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in his innocence, he owes you, Mrs. Stan-dish."
    Athena gasped and felt a momentary dizziness. She put out a hand to steady herself against the gleaming surface of the desk that stood between them, like some giant bulwark quite impossible to breach. Recovering her breath, she snatched her hand away and clasped it with the other tightly, returning the glittering stare that threatened to undo her.
    She drew a deep breath. "Provided I remove to London at my earliest convenience, I take it, my lord?" she said, bitterness at the ease with which this man had dashed all her hopes causing her voice to tremble.
    The earl smiled thinly.
    "Exactly, madam."
    ***
    "I believe your wits have gone begging, Sylvester!" Lady Sarah exclaimed two afternoons later when the earl sought her out in her sitting room upstairs and laid his plan before her. He had given a good deal of thought to the idea since his interview with the widow, and was more than a little put out at his aunt's energetic response.
    He stood at the window and from that vantage point could see the elaborate gardens laid out by his grandmother and added to by his mother, a lady noted for her interest in foreign specimens. The roses were in their full glory, he noted absent-mindedly. His grandmother, who had designed the extensive rose beds on either side of the brick path that led down from the terrace, through the garden to the artificial pool, would have been pleased with the results of her labors. The exotic Brazilian water lilies—Lady St. Aubyn's pride and joy—spread their erotic pink faces up to the warm sunshine while, even at this distance, Sylvester caught orange glimpses of the fat, lazy goldfish his grandfather had gone to considerable pains to import from China for her.
    The only flaw to this idyllic scene—at least to his jaundiced eye—was the lady seated on one of the stone benches placed conveniently beside the pool. She wore the lightest of muslin gowns in a shade of pink that competed with the water lilies, and her face was half-hidden by a wide-brimmed straw hat, embellished with a pink rose. An open book lay neglected on her lap, her attention seemingly focused on the antics of the goldfish nibbling at the fingers she trailed in the water to tease them.
    Had the earl been ignorant of the identity of the lady beside the pool, he might well have been charmed by the picture she presented in the natural setting. The sun glinted off the coppery curls that tumbled informally about her shoulders, and the long, slender limbs were clearly outlined in unconscious grace beneath the translucent muslin. As it was, all he felt was a vague uneasiness at the undeniable beauty of the female his son had vowed to make his wife.
    "I thought the notion of setting another female to snatch the prize away rather clever myself, Aunt," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the romantic scene in the garden.
    Lady Sarah snorted as she always did when provoked. "Mrs. Standish refused to take the bribe, did you say? Are you sure of that, Sylvester? Three thousand pounds must be a small fortune to her. I wonder why she did not rise to the bait."
    "The witch had the audacity to tell me I was an odious villain," he replied, a hint of reluctant amusement in his voice.
    "Well, and so you can be, Sylvester," his aunt replied without hesitation. "I do not doubt you appeared so to Mrs. Standish when you dared to offer her that much money to cast poor Perry off."
    "I had certainly thought to tempt her with that sum, but I might be willing to raise the stakes to five thousand, if I could be sure she would take it."
    "And you are not?" 
    Reluctantly, the earl tore his eyes away from the window. "No, I am not at all sure, Aunt. I imagine she is set upon becoming a viscountess. After all, Perry is worth far more that three thousand pounds. And although I have warned him that I will not increase his allowance, he is in a mood to be difficult. I fear he might marry the wench and the devil take the