Harry ground his teeth.

"I had--but apparently I should have made an appointment. The d.a.m.ned woman's gone off for a quiet soj '--to He ~ seen " Precisely. " Harry shrugged off his greatcoat.

"And, no, she hasn't changed her lifestyle. The d.a.m.ned female has no idea'

what she's blithely heading into." Dawlish's eyes grew round.

"Gawd help her." He took the coat from Harry.

"I sincerely doubt he can." Harry stripped off his gloves and threw them onto the table with the gillyflower, then turned to the stairs.

"Come on--stop standing there like a gawp.

We'll need the greys--she's got more than a two hours' start on us. "

As Harry pounded upstairs, Dawlish blinked, then shook himself.

"With you fired up and the greys in their usual mood,~we should be able to cut that in half easily." Harry didn't hear. He strode into his bedroom; it was the work of a few minutes to throw a selection of clothes into a bag.

Dawlish came in as he was shrugging into a bottle green coat; he had already changed his ivory inexpressibles for buckskin breeches.

"No need to kill y'rself," Dawlish advised, picking up the bag.

"We'll make it on her heels."

Frowning, Harry led the way out.

"We'll get there a full hour after her," he growled.

An hour in which she, a total innocent, would have to fend for herself in a house full of wolves, all of whom would a.s.sume she was willing prey.

Lucinda descended from her carriage before the steps of Asterley Place and looked around. The house bore a relatively recent facade, Ionic columns supporting the porch roof, cla.s.sic geometric lines delineating the long windows. It stood in a large park, directly before a long sloping lawn leading down to the sh.o.r.es of a lake.

Glimpses of gardens tantalised on both sides; the subtle scent of roses wafted over a brick wall. Wide stone steps led up to the porch; as footmen came running to a.s.sist with the baggage, Lucinda unhurriedly ascended to find her host, hostess and their major-domo waiting. "Welcome to Asterley Place, my dear Mrs .!

STEPHANIE LAURF. US.

Babbacombe. Can't say how delighted I am to see you here. " Lord Asterley, a gentleman of average height with a tendency to corpulence, severely restrained, bowed, then shook Lucinda's hand.

Lucinda smiled in return, recalling now that she had met his lordship during her earlier weeks in the capital.

"I must thank you for your invitation, my lord. It was most ...

opportune-and appreciated." She couldn't suppress the hope that welled within her; antic.i.p.ation lit her eyes and her smile.

Lord Asterley noticed--and was instantly smitten. "Indeed? Very pleased to hear it, m'dear." He patted her hand, then turned to the lady beside him.

"Allow me to present my sister, Lady Martindale. She acts as my hostess at these little gatherings, y'know." Lucinda turned and was engulfed in a warm smile.

Lady Martindale shook hands, a smile wreathing her pretty face.

"Please call me Marguerite. Everyone else who stays does." Her ladyship was some years Lucinda's senior, a buxom blonde, as transparently good-natured as her brother.

"I do hope you enjoy yourself whilst here--don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything the least amiss."

Lucinda could feel herself relaxing.

"Thank you."

"The others are gathering in the conservatory--once you've had a chance to refresh yourself, do please join them."

Marguerite gestured to the house, gathering Lucinda as she turned towards it.

"I dare say there are others you already know but we pride ourselves on informality here." She leaned closer to add,

"You may be sure there are none present who don't know precisely how to behave, so you need have no worries other than deciding with whom you wish to pa.s.s the time."

Lucinda returned her smile.

"Now then--we've put you in the Blue Room." Her ladyship glanced at Lucinda's cambric carriage dress.

"Clearly an inspired choice. Melthorpe here will show you the way and see your maid and baggage sent up. We dine at six."

Lucinda thanked her again, then followed in the major-domo's wake. He was a small man, shrunk within his dark clothes, his long nose and hunched shoulders giving him a crow-like appearance.

As they gained the top of the wide main staircase, Lucinda caught his eye.

He gestured along one corridor; she followed as he started down it. And inwardly frowned. Why on earth should Melthorpe regard her so severely? He stopped before a door at the end of the corridor, opening it and standing back so she could precede him; Lucinda took a closer look at his face as she pa.s.sed.

f Casting a professionally a.s.sessing glance around the room, she approved it with a nod.

"Thank you, Melthorpe. If you would send my maid up immediately?"

"As you wish, ma'am."

She watched as, with a frigid air that barely avoided incivility, Melthorpe bowed and withdrew. Lucinda frowned at the door as it shut behind him.

There was little possibility she had misread his manner--she had too many years' experience of servants and underlings.

The man had looked at her, treated her, as if. It was a moment before she could correctly place his behaviour. When she did, she was dumbstruck.

The door opened and Agatha appeared, a footman with Lucinda's case immediately behind. Lucinda watched as her maid, dourly severe as only she could be, instructed the footman to place the case by the dressing table then closed the door behind him. "Well!" Agatha turned to face her.

Lucinda noted the speculation in Agatha's old eyes, but did not respond.

From experience, she knew she would get more information if she let Agatha deliver it in her own fashion. And she was suddenly very curious about Asterley Place.

StripPing off her gloves, she threw them on the bed-- a wide four-poster with a ta.s.selled canopy. Her bonnet followed. Then she spread her skirts and considered them.

"Hmm--too crushed. I'll change into my new tea gown, just until dinner."

Agatha humphed as she bent to the case buckles.