“A letter has arrived from your father.” Mama entered the breakfast room, where Helen, Diana, and Toby sat at the table with the appetizing smells of eggs, bacon, and kippers from the hot dishes wafting from the sideboard.

Helen stopped buttering toast. “Is Papa on his way home?”

“I believe so. His letter was dated a month ago when he was soon to board the ship for England. He had just returned to Alexandria after visiting the Temple of Hathor at Dendera. He has confirmed a theory and remains confident his research is sound.”

“Does he say what the theory is?” Having spread marmalade on her toast, Helen took a bite.

“He doesn’t, dear. There’s only so much room for your father’s large cursive on the page, and he seemed to be in a rush. He sends his love and is eager to hug his loved ones again.”

“How very like Papa,” Diana said with a laugh. “To send us exciting news and not tell us what it is.”

“We shall learn of it all in good time, Diana.” Mama paused as Fiske entered the room to provide hot water.

Helen doubted they’d learn much more from Papa. When he was at home, he closeted himself in his library and didn’t always see fit to tell them what took up so much of his time. But she longed to see him again. He had been gone for over two months, and their home just didn’t feel right without him. “How is Bart today, Mama, and Jinx?”

Mama shook her head, her eyes sad. “I had not wished to discuss this with you until after breakfast. Jinx has recovered and returned to his duties in the kitchen. But our footman is very ill indeed. The doctor called again early this morning. Brace yourselves, my dears, Bartholomew is not expected to live for much longer.”

“Oh, Mama!” Diana and Helen cried in unison.

“Poor Bart.” Toby’s voice wobbled with distress. He pushed away his half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs. “I went to see him yesterday, but was told he was sleeping.”

“I shall visit him this morning,” Mama said. “I hope to ask him what his last wishes might be. I’ll consult Father’s secretary when he arrives. Mr. Thorburn will need to deal with this matter in your father’s absence.”

“Can we say goodbye?” Helen asked with a sad wrench.

“If you really wish to, although it will be distressing, and I’m sure Bartholomew won’t expect it.”

“We want to, Mama,” Toby said.

“Very well. The doctor assures me he is not infectious.”

Helen glanced at her brother and sister while wiping away a tear. Bart had been a part of their household for years. He had always impressed her with his ability to perform his duties perfectly with only one arm.

 

***

Lizzie brought the sweet fragrance of sunlit gardens into the library with her arms full of aromatic flowers. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was a sparkle he had not seen for some years in her eye. “How agreeable to find you at home, Jason. These are for my sitting room. I mean to borrow that pretty blue and white vase on the mantelpiece.”

Jason rang for the footman as she unloaded the bunch onto a table. “Stay and talk to me,” he said, seizing the opportunity to speak to her.

When the footman appeared, she gave him the vase and filled his arms with the pink and white blooms. “Please tell Sally to fill the vase with water, arrange the flowers, and set them in my sitting room, thank you, Henry.

“They’re so gorgeous I couldn’t resist buying them from a flower seller,” she said after the footman departed.

“Indeed. I do hope Henry doesn’t drop that urn. I believe it’s Sèvres.”

Jason disliked having to question her. But question her, he must. Greywood had left her very wealthy. Lizzie had been barely out of the schoolroom when she married in her first Season. She was of a trusting nature. Well, he was not. “You look very pleased with something, my dear. I doubt it’s the flowers alone.”

“Not entirely. A gentleman and I have had a pleasant promenade in the park.”

Jason shifted his shoulders. “Yes, Sally told me. I saw his calling card.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

Jason placed his compendium of Wordsworth poetry he read in his quiet moments on the side table. He was doubtful there’d be too many of those for a while as he turned in the wingchair to better view Lizzie on the sofa. “Who is this Baron Bianchi?”

“He has an estate in Florence. An ancient baronetcy. The baron is visiting London for a few months.”

“Why has he come to England?”

She smoothed her gray skirts and fixed him with a determined gaze. “Does he need a reason?”

“A man generally does,” Jason said gently.

“He is here on business.” She shrugged. “I knew you would be suspicious!”

“I believe it to be prudent. Until the facts are before me.”

She eyed him with a calculating expression. “You would not feel that way if he was an English gentleman.”

“I’d be no less so. It’s my duty to care for your interests, Lizzie.” Greywood had wished it, although Jason didn’t want to remind her of it. He rose and went to the drinks tray on the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “A glass of Madeira? Or would you prefer me to ring for tea?”

“Madeira. I feel in need of some fortifying.”

Jason laughed as he handed her the glass. “Do you think your older brother an ogre?”

She smiled. “Certainly not. A bit stuffy perhaps.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I shall ignore that, as I suspect it’s meant to distract me from my purpose.” His grin slid away. “But why you feel the need for fortification does worry me a little.”

She sighed. “Promise me you will meet him.”

“I fully intend to.”

“Then I shall invite him to dinner.”

“Excellent notion.” He returned to his chair and crossed his legs. “However, there’s no reason why you can’t tell me more about him in the interim.”

She sipped from her glass. “Bianchi is about your age, has never married, and, like me, is interested in Italian Renaissance art. He is handsome and good company. Will that suit?”

“It’s a beginning. Why has he never married?”

“One might ask you the same question.”

Jason shook his head. “We are discussing this new swain of yours.” He would be deeply pleased to see the change in his sister, if only he could be sure the man merited it.

“He told me he planned to marry, but his fiancée died. It broke his heart.” She gave a heavy sigh. “So you see, we have much in common.”

A common interest in art and a broken heart seemed a tad too convenient. Jason suspected the situation could become challenging. He returned her smile and took a deep gulp of brandy. This would need to be settled before he was called back to the Queen’s Walk on Kinsey’s return. “Send Henry with a message. Invite the baron to dinner this evening.”

“I’m sure he will be grateful. This is his first trip to England and he knows very few people here. But it will put poor Cook in a flap.”

He laughed. “Cook complains that I don’t entertain enough. I’ll send her notice, but I’m sure she is in the process of creating a feast for Charlie.”

Lizzie giggled. “You may be right.”

When Lizzie left the library, Jason glanced at the book beside him. He made no attempt to pick it up, knowing his attempt to read would be useless. It was bittersweet to watch Lizzie awaken to life. If only he could be sure of the man responsible for it.

Charlie wandered into Jason’s dressing room some hours later while his batman come valet was adjusting his cravat.

“Damned if I can tie it the way you do, Hicks.”

“It’s your Adam’s apple, my lord. It tends to spoil the arrangement.”

“What would you have me do about it? Cut it off?”

Hicks chuckled. No, my lord, it’s only when you tie the cravat yourself.”

“A sneakier means with which to safeguard your position as my valet, I’ve never heard,” Jason said with a roar of laughter.

Hicks fought a grin as he took up the clothes brush.

“Why so glum, Charlie?” Jason asked, eyeing him in the mirror.

“That cockfight turned out to be a poor show, hardly worth the effort.” Charlie threw himself onto a chair. “Probably rigged.”

And he lost his money, Jason surmised. A salient lesson, he hoped. “You need to hurry to change for dinner. We have a guest.”

“Who is it?”

“A gentleman Lizzie has invited. A Baron Bianchi.”

“Oh? Actually, I’ve invited two guests myself.”

Jason frowned. “Have you notified Cook?”

“Yes, just been down to the kitchen. She’s prepared enough to feed a troop.”

“I’m sure she has,” Jason said dryly. “Who are your guests?”

“Miss Groton, the lady I escorted from Oxford. She is staying with her aunt. The aunt is accompanying her.”

“Is Miss Groton the sort of woman you would introduce to your sister?”

Charlie looked affronted. “Of course. There is nothing about her demeanor to offend.”

Jason arched an eyebrow. “Then we shall have quite an interesting dinner party.” He did up the cloth buttons of his single-breasted waistcoat embroidered with gold thread then nodded to his valet. “Thank you, Hicks. After you’ve assisted Charlie, you may have your dinner.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Hicks hurried out the door.

Jason pulled down his cuffs. “Now. While you dress, you can explain about Miss Groton.”

Following his brother along the passage, Jason was congratulating himself on remaining calm under the constant barrage of surprises his siblings inflicted on him when Charlie paused at the door.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest, Jas. I told Miss Groton you could help her out of her predicament.”

“I can hardly wait to learn of it,” Jason said wearily.

“I think I’ll wear my new Apollo gold waistcoat tonight. It won’t clash with yours,” Charlie said, entering his bedroom.

“Tell me one thing,” Jason said following him. “Where is this Basil Wentworth who got you into this scrape? And why isn’t he assisting Miss Groton?”

“He’s returned home to his family in Yorkshire. His father isn’t plump in the pocket, and so I volunteered to deal with the problem.”

“Shall you wear the navy wool coat with the velvet collar, sir? It complements the gold waistcoat,” Hicks inquired, the coat over his arm.

“Perfect choice, Hicks. Well done.” Charlie stripped off his coat. “I suppose I should shave.” He ran a hand over his relatively smooth chin.

“No time for that.” Jason straddled the ribbon-back wooden chair. He leaned his arm on the top, watching his brother. He wondered what lay behind this latest incident that Charlie didn’t wish to tell him. “Please continue.”

“It’s just that Miss Groton”—Charlie’s voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt up over his head— “has been the recipient of some cruel treatment,” he finished as he reemerged.

“There’s a basin of hot water and soap on the dresser, sir,” Hicks said, producing a towel.

Jason waited impatiently while his brother washed.

“What is this harsh treatment poor Miss Groton has endured?” Jason finally asked, after his frustration rose to the level of hunting for worms to fish in the river as a lad.

“Her father was a shopkeeper in Oxford, but when he died, she had no one to turn to. When the business was foreclosed, she found herself out on the street.” Charlie tossed down the towel and disappeared again as Hicks threw a fresh linen shirt over his head. “She didn’t have so much as a groat in her pocket and had to make her way to her Aunt Bessie in Cheapside, so Basil promised she could spend the night in his digs then get the stage the next day. But it didn’t turn out that way, as you know.”

“It’s about the only thing I do know,” Jason said.

“There’s a chap who runs a gambling house in Oxford. He’s the devil’s spawn! Has an interest in a club here in London as well. He’s demanding Miss Groton pay her father’s gambling debts. She hasn’t the ready to pay him. The fellow’s a sharper, Jas.”

“That’s the extent of it?”

“Not entirely.” Charlie slipped on the gold waistcoat Hicks held out to him. “He’s here in London at his club. If she can’t meet Pomfret’s demands, he’ll have her work for him until it’s paid off.”

“I gather it’s not as a maid?”

“No. That’s just it.” Charlie cleared his throat. “She’s quite pretty. And sweet, Jas, as you’ll see.”

Jason already saw a lot. He rose from the chair and moved it back against the wall. He had formed the deep suspicion that this young lady was not what Charlie believed she was. Still, he didn’t like to see her held to ransom by crooks, if what she said was true. He would certainly need to be on his toes tonight. “I’ll see you in the drawing room in an hour. Don’t be late.”

“But you haven’t said if—”

Jason held up his hand as he stalked out the door.