Valan arrived with Miss Matheson and Miss Stone at his cousin’s home and directed the servant to escort the ladies to the garden. He then went to the drawing room where he was told his cousin rested. Legs curled up beneath her skirts on a pale yellow divan, Peigi rested her chin on her arm, which was stretched out across the divan back. She turned her gaze from the window overlooking the east lawn.

“Valan, what a surprise.” She straightened and extended a hand.

He dutifully crossed the room, grasped her fingers and bowed over them. “You are looking well,” he said.

She sighed. “Well, I am not well.”

Valan sat on the far end of the divan. “Are you ill?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I am never sick. Nae, it is Richard. He is intolerable.”

“Ah, what has your husband done now?” Valan asked.

She pouted. “You needn’t act as if it is he who must tolerate me. I know how you men are.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, you protect one another.”

“If that is true, it is only because women are such formidable foes.”

“There you are,” she cried. “Why must men see women as foes?”

“I doubt I could explain it to your satisfaction,” he said.

“Because the notion is ridiculous,” she replied.

“You are probably right. In any case, I did not come here to discuss the male mind. I need your help.”

“My help?” Her brows rose. “I have never known you to ask anyone for help.”

“Be that as it may, I am doing so now. I am planning a party and would like you to help.”

“A party?” She frowned. “You never throw parties.”

“I admit, it has been some time.”

She regarded him. “What are you up to?”

“I am not ‘up to’ anything. I have simply taken a ward and am introducing her into society.”

“Her?” Peigi stiffened. “You are mistaken, sir, if you think I will be party to your affaire de coeur.”

“This is no affair,” he replied mildly.

“No one will be fooled by the pretense—least of all Richard. You know he will never allow me to associate with one of your light o’ loves. Besides, I know you too well.”

“Pray tell, what do you know?”

“I know that you do not do anything that doesn’t benefit you. Don’t be cross,” she quickly added. “We all have our faults and that is yours. I love you, nonetheless.”

“I am grateful. However, despite your…accurate assessment of my character, Miss Matheson is, indeed, my ward and nothing more.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“My dear, Peigi, have you ever noted amongst my, er, shortcomings, that I am a liar?”

Her brow furrowed. “Well, not exactly.”

He lifted a brow.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. But it’s not because you aren’t capable of it.”

He laughed. “If you are to condemn me for what I can do, instead of what I have done, you might as well sentence me to the gallows this instant.”

She shuddered. “Nothing so dramatic.”

He angled his head. “Thank you. Now, I expect you to accord Miss Matheson all the respect due my ward.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I warn you, Valan, I will not be made a fool. If I discover she is not who you say she is—”

“Your warnings are unwarranted, my dear. You may recall that I am quite strict when it comes to your reputation.”

“Well.” Peigi smoothed her skirt. “That is true.” She giggled. “Remember when you challenged poor Mr. Nicholson to a duel? I vow, I was sure you would kill him and be forced to flee to France—or worse, the Colonies.”

“I believe it is you who is now being dramatic,” he said.

“Not at all. That really was quite foolish of you. All over a kiss.”

“While I am not known for bending the truth, you are. We both know it was more than a kiss.”

Her eyes flashed. “Not so much to be worth a duel.”

“Make no mistake, that is due only to the fact that I challenged him.”

“You act as if I don’t have a brain,” she said.

He gave a low laugh. “You do, indeed, have a brain. That is what makes you so dangerous.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I see. Women are your foes because we have a brain.”

“If it were only your brains, we would be in no danger,” he said with another laugh.

She lifted her chin. “You cannot blame us for being beautiful.”

“Indeed, we can. But forget this silly debate. Come, I wish to show you my ward.”

“You brought her here?” Peigi demanded.

“Of course.” He sighed when her eyes narrowed. “Remember, Peigi, I will not compromise you. Please, have a look and you will see for yourself that she is nothing more than a child.” He rose and extended a hand toward her.

“I can never really be angry with you.” She laid a delicate hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

He led her from the drawing room and into a small study that overlooked the garden. To the far left, Miss Stone sat on the granite bench beside the rose bushes.

“Valan, she is twenty-five years old, if she’s a day—and she is so demure. I can well believe you are not dallying with her but—” She broke off when Miss Matheson came into view. “What—” She looked up at him. “Her?”

He nodded. “Her.”

Peigi returned her attention to the window. “She’s quite beautiful. You can’t expect me to believe—”

“I expect you to believe exactly what I’ve told you,” he cut in.

She cast him a startled glance, then watched Miss Matheson for another moment before turning away from the window. “Why do you need my help with the party? You have servants.”

“All fools,” he said. “They will destroy every piece of furniture I own, then burn the house down in a funerary pyre.”

“Lord, Valan, you’re in a mood. What is wrong?”

“I would like this ball to go off well,” he replied.

She studied him. “You are serious.”

“I am,” he replied. Still, she hesitated. Valan crossed to the bell pull near the door and rang for a servant.

“What are you doing?” Peigi asked.

“Introducing you to Miss Matheson.”

A young maid appeared a moment later and Valan bade her bring Miss Matheson and Miss Stone to the sitting room. He returned with his cousin to the room and, a moment later, the maid brought the two women.

Jeanine’s eyes met his and her face lit with a smile. “Did you see the roses, Grey? They are the most beautiful I have ever seen.”

“We are not at home, Jeanine,” he said. “You will address me as ‘sir’ or ‘my lord.’”

“But this is your cousin’s home. She is family.” Her eyes shifted to Peigi. “Is this her? Of course, you are her,” she went on before anyone could reply. Jeanine hurried across the room to the couch where Peigi sat. She gave a pretty curtsey then clapped her hands. “You are beautiful. Of course, I knew you would be. I wish I had blonde hair like yours. Mine is plain old brown. Your blue dress compliments your hair perfectly. Do you like Miss Stone’s dress? Oh dear, we haven’t introduced you to Miss Stone. How rude.” Jeanine looked at Valan

“I was waiting for you to finish, my dear.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is that your way of saying that I talk too much?” She grinned. “You may proceed, sir.”

He angled his head in thanks, then said, “Peigi, as you must have guessed, this is my ward Miss Jeanine Matheson, and this is her companion, Miss Stone.”

Miss Stone curtsied and murmured, “My lady.”

“Do you like Miss Stone’s dress?” Jeanine asked. “Mrs. Morgan made it for her. I did her hair, but I think you could do better.”

Peigi blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your hair is so beautifully done that I know you can help Miss Stone with hers. I am only tolerably good at styling a lady’s hair.”

“Of course, I know how to style a lady’s hair,” Peigi said, “But it is Matilda who styled mine.”

“But you directed her, I’m sure,” Jeanine said. “And you would accept nothing less than perfection.”

“That is true,” Peigi demurred.

Jeanine beamed. “Would you do her hair for the party? You are coming, of course?”

Peigi looked at Valan and he lifted a brow. “Well, my dear,” he said, “will you be attending?”