"You will be," Augusta hotly declared.

Portia clucked her tongue. "Augusta, how would that occur precisely?"

"I'm not certain, but I can assure you all will be fine."

"How can you say that? With your refusing to accept reality, you sound a tad deranged."

"You would too if you'd suffered how I have suffered this past week." She glared, her animosity wafting out. "By what gall is Mr. Drummond proposing to you?"

"He's taking everything from Miles and that includes me."

"Are you breaking your commitment to Miles? Is that what you came to tell me?"

"No, I haven't cried off, but what am I to think, Augusta? Where is Miles? What are his plans? Is it still his intent to wed me?"

"Of course it is," Augusta vehemently replied, although she had no idea if that was true or not.

If the wedding went forward, where would it be held? Where would they reside after the ceremony? How would Miles support Portia? Augusta had no answers to any of those questions, and if Miles had been standing there, she'd have wrung his neck for being such an impertinent wastrel.

"Mr. Drummond will evict you tomorrow," Portia said.

"He can try."

"You don't believe he can force you to depart?"

"No."

"You haven't met him, Augusta. He's very commanding, and he acts as if he could be dangerous. I doubt you can thwart him."

"We'll see."

"What should I do about Miles and Mr. Drummond? Should I end it with Miles until his affairs are more settled? Would that be best?"

Augusta sputtered with affront. "You're considering Mr. Drummond?"

"Yes, Augusta. Pay attention, would you? He's rich, and he owns Kirkwood now. Why wouldn't I consider him? Especially with Miles having disappeared."

"I can categorically state that Miles expects you to continue as his fiancee."

"Where does that leave me, Augusta? I'm twenty years old. How long should I wait for Miles to fix this? Until I'm twenty-five? Until I'm thirty? What if he never fixes it?"

"I'm guessing he'll ride in tonight, and he'll have the solution we seek."

"You actually presume he'll arrive and save you?"

"Why wouldn't he? He's very clever. He won't relinquish Kirkwood without a fight."

"He's already lost it! Why can't you admit it?"

"I won't deem it lost until Miles tells me it is. In the interim"-she smiled a sly smile-"I have a scheme percolating while we watch for him to return."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Drummond is terribly intrigued by Georgina."

Portia frowned. "By Georgina?"

"Yes and I've encouraged her to foster his interest."

"Meaning what?"

"Since you're a maiden, I can't provide details, but trust me. She's agreed to pursue a path that will allow us to remain at Kirkwood."

"What path?"

"As I said, Portia, it wouldn't be appropriate to describe it to you."

Portia speculated over the comment, then huffed with indignation. "She would...would...debase herself to earn his favor? She's willing?"

"She's very loyal to the family, Portia, and I've reminded her how much she owes us. So yes, she's willing to accommodate me."

Portia shivered with dread. "Mr. Drummond is so...so...tall and impressive. Isn't she afraid?"

"If she is or isn't, it hardly matters. She's consented, and she'll follow through."

"What has he offered as a reward?"

"We get to stay."

"All of you get to stay?"

"Yes," Augusta lied.

Georgina had explained that Mr. Drummond intended for his mercy to extend to her and never to Sophia or Augusta, but Georgina was positive she could persuade him to relent. She claimed he wasn't the ogre people assumed him to be, and she truly thought she could bend him in the right direction.

Georgina was smart and shrewd, and Augusta had no doubt she'd succeed with Mr. Drummond. Augusta was staking her very future on it.

"If Georgina shames herself-" Portia started.

Augusta cut her off. "You're not to mention this to anyone, Portia. We can't have it bandied about the neighborhood."

"Yes, but it's so shocking. How will you keep it a secret?"

"You're the only one I've told. If gossip spreads, I'll know who spread it."

Portia glared, and Augusta glared back. Portia was very confident, very set on herself, but she was barely out of the schoolroom. She was no match for Augusta. She glanced away first.

"If Georgina disgraces herself with him," Portia tried again, "what about me? I can't become his bride if he's been dallying with her."

"Why couldn't you?"

"It would indicate he's a libertine."

"All men are. They have mistresses and tumble the servants."

"There are likely wives in the world who would tolerate such low behavior, but I never would. It would be too disrespectful to me."

Augusta rolled her eyes. Girls were so silly. "If you wed him you'll have to ignore it."

"I won't, and he's an idiot if he thinks I will."

"Then you should carefully ponder his proposal. Is that the sort of cad you wish to wed? It sounds as if he's very different from Miles."

"Yes, he is." Portia dithered for an age, then said, "Despite what I choose-whether I wind up with Miles or Mr. Drummond-Georgina can't live here after I move in. If she ruins herself for you, she'll have to go. You realize that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Does she realize it?"

"I don't believe so."

"If she's so loose in her character, I couldn't permit her to remain in proximity to my new husband. Once she's dishonored, there's no predicting how she might conduct herself."

"No, it wouldn't be appropriate and I wouldn't be comfortable having her around Sophia either."

"Oh, absolutely not. She shouldn't be around Sophia another second."

"We'll let Georgina work her wiles on Mr. Drummond, and we'll see what happens."

"All right."

"I'm betting her antics won't matter one way or the other."

"Why not?"

"Miles will be home soon. Probably later tonight. I can feel it in my bones."

"Should I tell Mr. Drummond I need to reflect on my answer?"

"Yes. In the meantime, Georgina will seduce and distract him, then Miles will return and we'll all be saved." Augusta leaned over and patted Portia's hand. "Don't sever your betrothal just yet, Portia. Give it a few days. Mr. Drummond will be gone before you know it."

"Here's hoping," Portia said.

"I'm not hoping. I'm convinced we'll be shed of him with no trouble at all."

"But Georgina will bear the brunt of us getting him to depart."

"Some conclusions can't be helped, Portia. Let's not worry about Georgina. Let's worry about ourselves and how we can come out of this with everything we want."

Damian at 16...

You have to stop fighting him."

"I'll never stop."

"He's going to kill you. He's simply looking for an excuse."

Damian was stretched out on his bunk, his torso a mass of gashes, the whip having cut particularly deep. Or perhaps it was merely that he'd been flogged so often that his skin was wearing out. He bruised easily now and usually the wounds from any prior beating hadn't healed before the next was inflicted.

He never fully recovered between punishments, and Lt. Butler was increasingly deranged. The more Damian stood up to him, the more Lt. Butler felt he had to make a point.

He and Butler were dancing a macabre dance, and Damian was tired of it. He didn't have much energy left for the battle. More and more, he was drifting into the spot in his mind where it was so peaceful and quiet. It was such a calm place that he wondered if he wasn't close to the gates of Heaven.

He always sensed a portal, and he'd try to walk toward it, but he couldn't ever find it. It wasn't his time just yet, but oh, how he wanted it to be!

"You know I don't care if he kills me," Damian said.

"I care!" Kit vehemently replied.

Damian shut his eyes. His injuries were infected, and he was feverish and struggling to tamp down his shivers so Kit wouldn't notice. Suddenly Kit was slapping his cheek.

"Damian!" he was saying. "Damian!"

Kit shook him and shook him until Damian had to pry open his eyes so he'd desist.

"What?" he groggily asked.

"You're burning up."

"It's not that bad, Kit. It will pass."

"No, it won't. I have to get some help."

"From who?"

Damian couldn't imagine who would dare to intervene. It would mean crossing swords with Lt. Butler, and the citizen-convicts in the burgeoning town went out of their way to avoid him.

Butler acted like a king, and the Boy's Colony for Incorrigibles was his own private domain where he implemented his awful procedures. He ran the camp like a military prison, and no one-not surgeon, sailor, or guard-was allowed to gainsay him. Who would assist Damian? Why would Kit suppose anyone would?

"I don't know who I'll find, but I'll get someone." Kit leaned down so he was right in Damian's face. "Stay awake. Promise me."