“No, I absolutely will not! You will return this…this bauble…to the rightful owner, and that is the last I will hear of it!”

James Campbell thrust the sparkling bit of jewelry back into the hands of Lucy who apparently had taken leave of her senses entirely. To think that after all these years she would be so afflicted, her not even in her dotage, though her head had greyed already, and there lay a fine tracery of lines about her eyes and mouth.

Lucy thrust the brooch right back. “I cannot. I have made a promise, and already taken the payment.”

“A promise you should not have made, and payment that ‘twas folly to take. You shall have to explain to your benefactress that my favors are not to be bought like that of some…”

“A Drury Lane Vestal? A Covent Garden Nun? A Bunter? A woman of the town?” Lucy offered, smiling up at him from her sewing as sweet as you please.

“Good lord, woman, where do you learn such…never mind. I blame your reading matter. Allowing you to join the lending library was a mistake. And be that as it may, I will not allow you to distract me so easily!” James paced the room, thrusting his hands into his hair, sending it in all directions. “I refuse to be any of those things!”

Lucy waved that off. “I have told you before, she is of good family. More importantly, she is not looking to marry but only wishes to meet you.”

“Enough to pay me a fortune to attend upon her?” James opened his palm to stare at the brooch again. “Those rubies alone are enough to…”

“To buy a ship,” Lucy finished for him, carefully knotting her thread. “To buy you another ship. And crew for a year.”

“I am surprised you have not already had it appraised,” James said sourly, lifting the rose to the light and watching the shadows within the depths.

Lucy blushed a little, setting down the sock she’d been darning into her lap. “Actually, I have.”

“You…” James sat heavily in the chair opposite hers. “You took it to an appraiser? Can you imagine the…that’s a unique piece…surely you would not have…”

Lucy sniffed and pulled the wooden darning egg out from the sock, turning the bit of clothing right side out to examine her work. “Of course not. I had Phillip take it to a man he knew. You know as well as I do that Phillip isn’t the sort to say anything to anyone if he considers it none of their business. Let the jeweler speculate.”

“You had Phillip…Dare I ask one other question that might be a thing that might have escaped your notice?” James asked, one hand pressed over his eyes to forestall a headache that seemed determined to blossom there.

“Of course.” Lucy slipped the wooden egg into the next sock from the pile. “And what would that be?”

“Has it occurred to any of you that I am perhaps not only the Duke of Durham, a name which some might say holds a certain authority but that I am also Master of his household?”

“Pish tosh, and I am the one who dandled you on my knee, while Phillip taught you to ride your first horse.”

He tipped his head back against the high back of the chair that he might stare at the ceiling. “I am by far too lax with the servants. If word should get out, I would be ruined.”

Lucy carefully threaded her needle again as she lost the yarn. “You are already ruined, which is why you must go to visit the Duke of York at your first opportunity, that you might be introduced properly to his daughter. You cannot call without having first been introduced.”

“No, of course not. I would need to be introduced. What kind of madhouse is this? No, do not answer me that.” He got up and looked again at the brooch in his hand. “And how much did you say this magical rose is worth?”

She told him. The number was quite high.

James swallowed hard. “And you say that to her this was a mere trifle? No, do not answer that. I will not be drawn into this madness. I shall visit the house first thing in the morning. Not—” he held up a hand to stop whatever was sure to fall from her mouth next, “—to garner an introduction to this daughter who seems set upon matrimony, but to return this bauble before we are all accused of collusion of the basest sort.”

“Collusion!” Lucy harrumphed and stabbed her needle through the sock with more force than necessary. “As though anyone here were capable of such a thing. I managed this escapade entirely on my own.”

“I will be sure to inform the constabulary when they show up,” James remarked rather dryly. “I fail to see how it was that you came to agree to this entire thing at all. I had thought you were of higher intellect than to fall for a maiden’s ridiculous schemes.”

“’Twas no scheme, as I am sure you will find if you only but go and see the good Lady. She sheltered me from the storm, and we had a…conversation,” she said, pausing a little uncomfortably there.

He noticed this hesitation and felt one eyebrow rise.

“A conversation,” she insisted, drawing the yarn through with perhaps more force than necessary. “If you would only visit, I think you would understand.”

“Understand,” he scoffed and rose, leaving her to her fire and her basket of mending. “We shall see. I will accept your challenge then. I will look upon this maiden whose visage is one of innocence, a girl with angelic demeanor that will impress upon me her very perfection of manner and bearing. One more like every other girl of the ton.”

“I think not,” Lucy said, without looking up, though he noticed a hint of a smile working at the corners of her mouth. “Meet her. The rest will come clear.”

“Humph.” He stared at the pin in his hand a long moment before thrusting it into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Utter nonsense.”