He did, though, have the satisfaction of hearing from one of the recently hired, newly dismissed servants, who had not yet left the house-a man who clearly felt no loyalty whatsoever to his erstwhile employers. Clarence, it seemed, was taking home with him a purple, bulbous nose and two black eyes, which he had claimed-the servant had paused to look both skeptical and contemptuous though his questioner was a grim-looking gentleman-which he had claimed came from a gang of ruffian footpads. At least her ladyship had claimed it since Sir Clarence himself had not been saying much of anything.

Even that news, though, was only marginally satisfying to Jasper. Either Moreland or Merton or Con Huxtable had done what he ought to have done-except that he would have considered a bulbous nose and two black eyes a mere preliminary to a more complete drubbing.

Those same three men were doubtless still breathing fire and brimstone and plotting to do the like to him.

He returned home to change into clothes more suitable for a morning call and discovered Charlotte in tears in the library. Miss Daniels was not having a great deal of success consoling her. There was an open letter on the desk.

“What has happened?” he asked from the doorway.

What now?

“Jasper!” Charlotte looked up sharply and it was obvious to him from the redness of her eyes and face that she had been crying for some time. “Aunt Prunella is going to have me fetched to Kent. Great-Uncle Seth has said I must go there, that you are an unfit guardian for me. It is not true, is it? You have not d-debauched Miss Huxtable.”

Oh, Lord!

“Charlotte, my dear,” Miss Daniels said, looking excruciatingly embarrassed.

“It is not true,” Jasper said grimly, only thankful that he was not quite lying. “But that is the story Clarence put about last evening and that is what everyone believes today. Have you heard from Great-Uncle Seth himself?”

He glanced at the letter.

“N-no,” she said. “From Aunt P-Prunella.”

“Then it is probably wishful thinking on her part that he will agree with her,” he said. “I had better go and see him again, though. He will not like it above half and neither will I, but it must be done. Go and dry your eyes, Char, and wash your face. Tears are not going to solve anything and they threaten to transform you into a gargoyle.”

“Everything is ruined,” she said, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “Everyone will suddenly discover that they cannot come to my party after all or if they do come, I will not be there to receive them. Aunt Prunella will have dragged me off to Kent and I shall die. I shall simply die, Jasper.”

“The thing is, Char,” he said, “that you will not, and would not even if all that were to happen-which I do assure you it will not while I have life and breath in my body. But I have to go. Why I learned of all this only this morning when the whole world knew it last evening I will never know. Remind me never to stay home of an evening again. But I am off.”

“What must Miss Huxtable be suffering this morning?” she asked him. “I am being very selfish, am I not? What of her?”

As if he had not thought of that for himself!

“I am off,” he said firmly, and strode from the room-and from the house-without stopping to change his clothes after all. And his main purpose must be postponed for a short while.

He was admitted at Seth Wrayburn’s house. He would not have been at all surprised if the door had been barred against him, but it was not. He found the old gentleman in a towering rage, though.

“God damn it all to hell, Montford,” he said as soon as he saw him, “what the devil is this all about and why do I have to be dragged into it? If I had known the trouble it would be to see one chit of a girl safely to adulthood, I would have hauled that will off to court and flatly refused to be her guardian.”

“I do not blame you in the least for being annoyed,” Jasper said, strolling farther into the room. “Clarrie has been spreading vicious lies about town, seconded by Lady Forester, and they have left enough damage in their wake to clog a river. However-”

“Where there are lies,” Mr. Wrayburn said, “there is usually at least a modicum of truth, Montford. I suppose there was once a wager? Concerning young Merton’s sister? The most obscene, disgusting wager ever written into a betting book? And I suppose you did try your damnedest to win it?”

He glared at Jasper and waited for an answer.

“I am afraid so,” Jasper said. “But she repulsed me in no uncertain terms-sent me away with a flea in my ear. She is blameless in all this.”

“I hope,” the old gentleman said, “she gave you a good swift kick in the arse too, Montford-or somewhere where it would hurt even more. Give me one good reason why I should leave my ward under your care.”

“Because they are damned liars,” Jasper said. “And sending Charlotte to live with them is unthinkable.”

“Clarence is a fool,” Mr. Wrayburn said, “and Prunella is a crashing bore. I do not doubt they are both liars too, but then most people are. But they are respectable. You are not.”

“I will be setting this mess all right in the course of the day,” Jasper told him. “After I leave here, I will be paying Merton a call and then his sister. There is only one thing to do, and by God I will do it.”

“If she will have you,” Mr. Wrayburn said. “She will be a fool if she does.”

“I am not sure,” Jasper said grimly, “she has much choice.”

The old gentleman picked up a cane from beside his chair and pointed it at his visitor like a weapon.

“If you can smooth over this confounded scandal, Montford,” he said, “and I did say if. If you can do it, then I will inform Prunella that she may disturb my peace again only on a matter of undisputed life and death concerning her niece. If you cannot, then Prunella can have the girl and give her a decent firing off next year and find a decent husband for her, though I can assure you that he will not be Clarence. And under those circumstances I will hear from you only on a matter of undisputed life and death concerning your sister. I trust I have made myself clear? I trust that you will not be sauntering in here again, trying to look nonchalant, within the next day or two. I trust you are not planning to make a habit of calling upon me. If you do, you will start finding the door shut and locked and my butler deaf.”

“You will not be hearing from me,” Jasper said firmly. “Soon I will be at Cedarhurst-with Charlotte. And by next year I will have made appropriate arrangements for her come-out that will not in any way involve Lady Forester or inconvenience you.”

“God damn it all,” the old gentleman said, “I hope so. I sincerely hope so, Montford. I have no particularly avuncular feelings for Charlotte, but I would not wish any girl upon those two fools-unless there is no alternative. Good day to you.”

Jasper made his bow and left.

What must Miss Huxtable be suffering this morning?… What of her?

Charlotte’s words echoed in his head.

What, indeed?

He was, he supposed, going to find out pretty soon.

But another voice replaced Charlotte’s in his head, and try as he would he could not dislodge it as he walked. The words kept repeating themselves over and over-in the voice of Katherine Huxtable.

I want him to be very special. Heart of my heart, soul of my soul… I have never yet been able to persuade myself to settle for less.

He was about to attempt to persuade her to settle for considerably less.

To borrow a phrase from Seth Wrayburn-God damn it all to hell.


Katherine was in her bedchamber when Stephen came back home soon after noon. She was sorting through drawers. A maid would pack her things later-and Margaret’s. They were going home to Warren Hall tomorrow-back to peace and sanity. She could hardly wait.

She ought never to have come. She would certainly not come again. Not for a long, long time, anyway. The thought cheered her.

Margaret was sitting on the side of the bed, watching. They were not doing much talking. But there was comfort in being together.

Margaret too had said she wanted to go home, that she longed for it, pined for it, was only really happy when she was there, would never want to leave again once she was home.

The fact that it was Stephen’s home and that he was all but grown up and would surely take a wife and start a family within the next ten years at the longest was not spoken between them. Certain bridges were best crossed when one arrived at them.

Neither of them had yet written to Miss Wrayburn to excuse themselves from attending her house party in August. It would be done before they left tomorrow, though.

Stephen had gone with Elliott and Vanessa, doubtless to confer on what was to be done about the scandal. Katherine did not care what they decided. There really was nothing to be done. He was looking very pale when he appeared in the doorway of the bedchamber after tapping on the door and being bidden to come in.

Katherine smiled at him and continued to kneel on the floor, the contents of a lower drawer of the dressing table in piles about her.

“Monty-Montford found us rather than the other way around,” Stephen said. “He came to Elliott’s.”

Katherine sat back on her heels.

“I do not suppose he is amused by all this,” she said.

She hoped he was not. She had no illusions about him, but she did not believe he was a totally conscienceless rogue. She had had proof of that three years ago.