"The man knows everything."

"Am I interrupting you?" she asked warily.

"No, no, come in. The bailiff ain't here and I don't care to tackle the account books without him." He gave a careless wave at the shelf of heavy black tomes beneath the high, narrow window.

Nerissa's eyes widened. "You have to know what is in all those?"

"Lord, no. I'll need to wade through the past few years to see how things have been going on, so that I'll know what to look for in the current accounts. To tell the truth, I'm not looking forward to it above half, but it's all too easy for a lax landowner to be cheated."

"Will I have to understand them, too?" she asked in dismay. "Mrs Hibbert said something about accounts."

"The household accounts are your province. I'll take care of these-unless you suspect I shall cheat you?"

"Oh, Miles, of course I don't! I just came to tell you Tredgarth says there are no flowers because my grandfather considered growing them a waste of garden space and the gardeners' time."

"Old killjoy."

"And to say I hope you will relent and take me shopping in Porchester? I cannot ask Cousin Raymond to help me buy clothes. I don't want the sort of dowdy fashions a country parson would approve." She looked down with disfavour at her shabby blue-striped dress. "Or else he might try to persuade me to wear the sort of gaudy, improper gowns actresses favour, hoping to give the neighbours a disgust of me."

Miles grinned as he rolled up the map and tied it with a tape. "As I warned you yesterday, though you were half asleep at the time, I believe. I'm glad you are not taken in by his sudden friendliness."

"'One may smile, and smile, and be a villain,'" Nerissa quoted sagely. "I have been helping Mama and

Papa con their lines since I was first able to read, and one cannot learn half of Shakespeare's plays by heart without learning something of human nature."

As she spoke, she led the way from the office into the corridor. Miles heard a squawk of alarm, and

sprang forward.

Before he reached her side, she said, "I'm sorry if I startled you, Cousin Sophie. Were you looking for me?"

"Gracious, no, whyever should you think so?" gabbled Miss Sophie. Then she changed her mind. "That

is, yes, dear, I ... I want to ask you ... to ask you if ... er, um ... if you have arranged today's menu with

Cook," she finished in a burst of inspiration.

Nerissa answered her soothingly, but Miles frowned in puzzlement as he followed them along the corridor. Though Miss Sophie was notoriously scatterbrained, surely she could not have forgotten whether she was looking for Nerissa or not. He smelled a rat, and he was certain Euphemia Chidwell was responsible for its existence.

Raymond Reece was not the only one from whom Nerissa needed protection.

He was still frowning, trying to guess what dire plot Mrs Chidwell had in mind, when the butler came towards them.

"Mr Courtenay, sir, Mr Harwood requests a word with you in the library when convenient," he said.

"Oh no!" Nerissa exclaimed. "Not now. We shall never get away."

"I'll just go and tell him we are on our way out, while you put on your bonnet," said Miles, shepherding

the ladies onward into the front hall. "Snodgrass, order the landau brought round immediately."

The butler looked unwontedly flustered. "Beg pardon, sir, but Sir Neville and my lady set off in the landau not five minutes since, with Mrs Chidwell and Mr Aubrey."

"Then we cannot go to Porchester?" cried Nerissa, her voice sharp with disappointment.

Miles gave her a warning look. Snodgrass might know everything, but there was no need to make him a

present of the fact that Euphemia had set her sister to distract Nerissa while the rest made off with the carriage.

"Where have they gone?" he asked.

"I believe her ladyship intended to pay a few calls, sir."

"Thank you, Snodgrass, that will be all."

The moment the butler was out of sight-listening around the corner no doubt, thought Miles cynically- Nerissa said with chagrin, "I wish I might have gone with them to visit the neighbours."

"Much better to wait until you have new clothes," Miles consoled her.

"Yes indeed," Miss Sophie agreed.

"But as I'm not there to deny it, they will tell everyone I'm an actress."

Miss Sophie patted her arm. "Oh no, dear. Euphemia did suggest it, I confess, but Jane pointed out that to have so disreputable a relative must reflect upon us all. Effie had to admit that people will already be

looking askance because we are not to wear mourning. Really, dear Barnabas did become a little peculiar in old age."

A faint snort made itself heard. Snodgrass suppressing a cough, Miles guessed. "I fear Mrs Chidwell may

not be persuaded to hold her tongue," he cautioned Nerissa. "You'll forgive me, Miss Sophie, if I venture

to remark that your sister is not always entirely amenable to reason."

"Who should know better than I, dear boy," she said sadly, then added, brightening, "Why do you not take the travelling coach if you wish to go into Porchester today?"

"There is a coach, too?" Nerissa asked. "Then we can go after all."

"Ha!" This time the snort was Miles's own. "That ancient boneshaker! I asked the coachman about it yesterday. It was built before springs were invented; six horses are needed to shift it; and even then it

cannot be moved at more than six miles an hour. Always supposing we had six carriage horses, which we don't, we'd be so long on the road we'd have to turn and come back almost as soon as we arrived."

"Miles, your curricle! I nearly forgot it. We shall be there in no time."

He shook his head. "Not mine, alas. As soon as I discovered I wasn't going to be able to return it to its

owner myself, I sent a groom to drive it back to Town. He took a letter asking Gerald to retrieve my belongings from my rooms, before my landlord decides I've abandoned them."

"No curricle," Nerissa sighed. "Well, at least the groom can bring your goods back with him."

"There's little enough worth bringing, since Sir Barnabas has-doubtless by some oversight-permitted us to acquire new wardrobes."

"If we ever manage to reach Porchester."

"The gig!" Miss Sophie exclaimed, beaming.

"No room for a maid," Miles pointed out.

"Oh." The little lady was crestfallen.

"A maid?" said Nerissa. "I don't need a maid. Do let us take the gig, Miles."

"You cannot go without your abigail to chaperon you."

"Of course I can. I never had an abigail until yesterday."

"Now you have one, and you must take her," he decreed.

"I don't see..."

"Truly, you must, Nerissa," Miss Sophie confirmed anxiously. "Since you are going into town, and

particularly as you will be fitted for dresses, it would be most improper to have only a gentleman for company. If you like, dear, I shall go with you, too, whatever Effie may say."

"That is excessively kind of you, Cousin Sophie, but who knows when we shall be able to take the

landau?"

"I'll make quite sure it is at our disposal tomorrow," Miles assured her. "We'll take a footman as well. Miss Wingate of Addlescombe shall shop in style."

"Miss Wingate of Addlescombe! Oh dear, I have just thought-suppose Mama and Papa refuse to let me stay, after all?"

Mr Harwood came into the hall at that moment and heard Nerissa's words. "Is that likely, Miss Wingate?" he enquired, worried.

"It would not greatly surprise me, though I did not write to them the half of the horrid things Grandfather said in his Will. They were most unwilling to let me come in the first place, especially Papa, and besides, I am needed in the theatre," she explained, and added wistfully, "I daresay you cannot let me buy clothes until you are sure, sir."

The lawyer took off his spectacles and peered around with a furtive air. "On the contrary, my dear young lady," he whispered. "I suggest you order what you wish as soon as may be and have the bills sent directly to me. If we discover at a later date that your parents withhold their permission-well, who could have guessed that they might throw away a fortune for their daughter?"

"Bless you, Mr Harwood. You are a dear!"

He blushed at her fervour and started vigorously polishing his spectacles with a large white handkerchief. "I always wanted a daughter," he mumbled.

Miles heard an odd sort of choking splutter. It must be the eavesdropper, Snodgrass, coughing again, he decided, though it had seemed to come from the opposite direction. He'd have to have a word with the fellow!

In three swift strides he reached the passage to the servants' quarters. No one in sight.

"Miles!" Nerissa called after him. "We shall drive into Porchester tomorrow, shan't we? In case Mama and Papa write to bid me return to York?"

"Yes, we shall go," he promised. Let her have her pretty new clothes. If her parents then summoned her home, he would be relieved of a great responsibility-though just why he felt responsible for her was far from clear-and he'd stand to inherit the entire fortune.

So why did the possibility of her departure from Addlescombe depress him?