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took the opportunity to do the same. He didn’t remember the crinkles at the sides of her eyes before, but she had the same air of busy cheerfulness as always. She was like the candy coating on a comfit, sweet but surprisingly tough.
    Will’s mother hardly relinquished hold of her son when his twelve-year-old sister Katy rammed into him like a small locomotive. As Will kissed the top of her head, he noticed that she was a good deal taller than he remembered. “How are you, Katy? You look well.”
    “I am, now that you’re back!” She snatched up Will’s hand and inspected it. “Why, that’s not so bad,” she blurted out. “It’s not nearly as bad as I feared it would be.”
    “Katy!” her mother said. “What sort of way is that to welcome your brother?” The mere mention of the injury, it seemed, brought a sharp, strained tone to her voice. Yet Will saw her eyes darting toward his hand even as Katy released it, ascertaining for herself the extent of the damage.
    The butler, Babbage, closed the front door. A man of about sixty, he had thinning sandy-gray hair, spectacles and a neatly trimmed beard.
    “Where is Stuart?” Will asked his mother, then added, “And Father?”
    “Your father still had some business to attend to, and he needed Stuart’s help,” his mother replied.
    Will wasn’t surprised by his father’s absence. William Creighton, Senior, was not a sentimental man. Will did regret not to see his brother again.
    “They will be in Town in a few days,” his mother went on to say. “And of course, we had to visit you, even before we went to the house.”
    She peered around the room. “Your house is none too grand, but I fancy it shall be adequate. You could do with more things in here, though. It is quite bare.”
    Will thought of Genevieve Bell’s home in the country. It hadn’t been what he expected at all, not that he knew what he’d expected. Perhaps some exotic lair of gilded furniture and leopard-skin rugs, though that would have been out of place in a small country village.
    Instead, it had looked so simple, but clean and full of light. Her white curtains were pulled back to let the sunshine flood the room, as though she cared nothing at all about the fading of upholstery. A home that seemed to suit and reflect her perfectly.
    “Katy and I shall do a little shopping for you,” his mother resolved.
    “I’m sure neither of you would find that to be a hardship.” His mother and sister enjoyed browsing through the shops of London, asking to be shown this or that. “Though I may not even stay in Town for the whole Season.”
    “Oh, but you must,” Katy objected. “Mama says perhaps this Season you’ll meet the woman of your dreams!”
    Their mother laughed, sounding embarrassed. “I’m certain I did not put it quite that way.”
    “Do you think you might, William?”
    “Now, Katy, leave your poor brother alone. He has just gotten back to his native soil.”
    “But it’s ever so exciting to think of,” Katy said. “I wonder what Will’s true love would be like?”
    Again, for maybe the dozenth time that day, Will imagined Genevieve’s face. Not that she might be his true love; he no longer believed in such things. But he couldn’t deny that she captivated him.
    And why not? He’d never had an actual mistress before, and couldn’t help but congratulate himself on his choice.
    Not a usual choice. She was nothing like the perfumed, tittering demireps and opera dancers whose company Jack enjoyed. Pleasant enough girls, but they never seemed to be the sort of people with whom one could have a decent conversation.
    After meeting his new mistress, Will realized that one might actually enjoy intelligent talk and the most licentious of pleasures with the same person. Such a thing never even occurred to him before.
    And he’d no doubt that a great deal of pleasure was in store for him. He remembered the frank way she discussed carnal matters...and why should she not be frank?