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back to normal."
    "Whoa, poppet. Don't go crammin' your fences. Things are never going to be the way they used to be. We're all older now, Sonia. We have to think about the future."
    "Yes, Papa." She knew to be quiet and listen when the squire was in such a serious mood. She took the seat across from him, her hands carefully folded in her lap.
    "A man gets lonely when his wife is gone, his children are grown." He held up his hand when she started to speak. "No, hear me out. If not today, someday you'll want a husband, babies, a home of your own, and this isn't it. And that's the way it should be, like chicks leaving the nest. George and Jennifer will do better on their own, too. She'll settle down as soon as the baby comes, you'll see. Then I'll have no one."
    "You'll always have those widows in the village."
    The squire dropped the pen he'd been holding. "Tarnation, you shouldn't know anything about any—And you sure as hell shouldn't mention 'em! Didn't anybody teach you anything?" He looked away from the knowing smile she flashed him. "That's neither here nor there. What I wanted to say was, I'm thinking of stepping into parson's mousetrap myself. With Miss Corwith. Leah."
    "That's just wonderful, Papa," she said, beaming. "I am so happy for you, truly. She's a lovely girl—uh, woman—and I think she will make you an excellent wife. And we already get along, so you'd never have to—"
    "I know you like Leah, and she likes you. I wouldn't have her else, and she says she won't have me unless you give your blessings. You do, don't you, Sunny?"
    Sonia giggled. "I thought the young man was supposed to ask the father's blessing. Of course I wish you every happiness!"
    "Good, good. We're going to have a quiet wedding right here as soon as the banns are read. I mean, no reason to wait, at our ages. Might even start a new family. Leah's not much older than Catherine, after all. But the fact is, Sunny, you'd always be mistress here. And Leah's so gentle and kind, she wouldn't even mind. But it's not fair to her."
    "I see, I think. I was planning on visiting Catherine anyway, so I'll just stay in Bath until Jennifer's baby is born and you and Leah are all settled in." She forced a laugh. "Perhaps I'll even nab some rich old duke there taking the waters, and make Grandmama happy."
    Squire didn't join her laughter. "Thing is, Sunny, I wrote your sister a few
weeks ago. Got a letter back today. She's finally increasing again and says
she's too sick to take you around or anything, and can't jeopardize the baby,
after so many disappointments. And, well, you never did get on with Backhurst. Catherine's just not up to that kind of brangling."
    "I never did see why she married that milksop," Sonia muttered, studying the design on the Aubusson carpet—and her options. She swallowed, took a deep breath. "Grandmama?"
    Her father nodded sadly. "Lady Atterbury."
     
    Among wolves, only the dominant female gets to mate.
Chapter Four
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    O f all the courtship rituals I have studied, the London Season sounds the most bizarre. My information comes from Muffy, the greatest feline impersonator of my experience, I have seen that cat portray a snowdrift, a dish towel, and a tea cozy. Such virtuosity!
    According to Muffy, whose observations I cannot discount since she was witness to two Corwith sisters' come-outs before Jennifer's, human persons' mating behavior seems contrary to nature.
    For one thing, the proper breeding age is arbitrarily set—by a committee, mind you—regardless of individual maturation. Then all of those selected (debutantes) to meet the most eligible males (catches) are herded together (the Marriage Mart) and dressed alike. In white, no less. The brightest colors, the most sparkly jewels, the finest plumage, are reserved for those who already have a mate! If a female loses her mate, she is forced to wear darkest black, even if she wishes to encourage another male.
    In many species, the males fight for the females.