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Alexander gave Rupert a poisonous glance, knowing that his valet enjoyed his flamboyant clothing a little too much. “There will be stealthy work to be done, as well,” he said in an undertone. “Bring the black, and my favorite boots, too.”

“You could just stay home, or leave it to another.”

Alexander impaled him with a look for the very suggestion. “My chase. My kill.”

“I know.” Rupert smiled then bowed. He raised his voice. “I shall see the portmanteau packed immediately, Your Grace, and be prepared to leave at dawn.”

“Excellent, Haskell.”

The other man left the library, admitting a cool draft that made Alexander think of cold carriages, draughty taverns and stone castles in Cornwall cold enough to freeze a man’s marrow. If he had a wife, he’d have warmth in his bed, to be sure.

But if he had a wife, he’d have a wealth of other problems.

Like having a wife. It was one thing to be less than completely honest with Anthea, but he doubted he could hide the truth of his profession from a wife.

And that meant he would have to completely trust the woman he married. Given his experience with feminine deception, Alexander thought that unlikely to occur soon.

Still, Anthea’s proposed wager was her first sign of interest in marriage in years. He removed the seed and rolled it between his finger and thumb, considering.

It could not hurt to try again. He didn’t imagine for a moment that the old stories were true, but Anthea would expect him to make a report upon his return. Perhaps if he tried, even if the seed failed, that would be sufficient to coax her back to London for the season.

It was more than worth a try.

That prospect put a smile on his lips. He lifted his quill and dipped it into the ink, thinking of how best to use their established code.

My dear Aunt Penelope—

What a delight to arrive home and find your letter already awaiting me here. It appears the post does not dally as I do! And such news! You make me yearn again for London. I regret that I will not be back in Town soon, for my doctor, the excellent Dr. MacEwan, has insisted that I take the sea air in Cornwall this month. He recommends ten thousand deep breaths a day—ten thousand!—and I heartily doubt that will leave me sufficient time to pen you a single line...

CHAPTER1

“I wish we could go faster,”Daphne complained, looking out the carriage window yet again. “Why are the horses so slow? We should have reached the next tavern by now!”

Her younger sister, Eurydice, who was so oblivious to the marvels of the fashionable world that Daphne sometimes doubted they were truly siblings, looked up from her book. “Getting to Castle Keyvnor sooner won’t get us to London sooner. May ismonthsaway.”

“But we’ll be in London for the new year,” Daphne replied, impatient to begin the adventure of her coming-out season. Her sister didn’t know that Daphne had made a wish on Stir-Up Sunday, a wish that by Christmas a year from now, she would be married to a rich duke. The further they rode from North Barrows, the greater the likelihood of there being a duke in the vicinity.

London would be thick with them.

“I can happily delay the expense of our upcoming venture,” her grandmother said with some acidity. Octavia Goodenham, the dowager Viscountess of North Barrows, raised a hand when Daphne’s alarm must have shown. “You’ll have your season, my dear, then Eurydice will have hers as well. A promise made is a promise kept.”

Nelson, their grandmother’s maid, nodded and smiled primly at the supreme good sense of her employer. Jenny, the maid for the girls, watched and listened as always she did. The five women were packed into the carriage, for the weather was a foul mix of rain and wet snow, andGrandmamanrefused to let Nelson or Jenny ride outside. Daphne sat beside her grandmother on the bench that faced forward, while Eurydice was opposite her. Nelson had the window opposite Daphne’s grandmother, and Jenny was wedged between Eurydice and Nelson. The young maid was sniffling and shivered at intervals, which was why she’d been given the warmer place in the middle.

“I would rather go to the Continent and save you the expense of a season,Grandmaman,” Eurydice said. “For there are fine museums there, and I would prefer to visit them than find a husband.”

“A husband will do you more good in the end than a glimpse of a statue,” their grandmother retorted. “If he is chosen well.”

“I will have a duke,Grandmaman,” Daphne said. To wed well, preferably to a wealthy duke, had been her ambition since the death of their parents. She ignored how Eurydice snorted. Her sister thought it was a vain and silly goal, but Daphne had sound reasons for her scheme. Eurydice didn’t remember very much of events after they had news of their parents’ death, but Daphne still had nightmares about those days of uncertainty. “You need not fear formyfuture.”

Nor would she have to worry about Eurydice’s future. Daphne would take care of her sister forever.

“You might be right,” the dowager replied. “You are pretty enough to tempt a man’s eye, that is for certain.”

“If Daphne becomes that rich, then I won’t have to marry at all,” Eurydice said, as if she had guessed Daphne’s secret scheme. “I could become a governess, like Sophia.” She referred to Sophia Brisbane who had left their service after winning the affections of Lucien de Roye at Castle Keyvnor just months before.

Their grandmother straightened and fixed Eurydice with a glare. “You. Will. Do. No. Such. Thing.”

“But, surely it matters whatIdesire...”