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things to me.”
    “But you love it when I do.”
    He leaned even closer, so that his leg touched hers through all the petticoats and fabric. He was taking an outrageous liberty, but he reveled in it. In his most wretched hours, when he was broke and alone, he fantasized about seducing her, about their eloping before John realized what had happened.
    Edward could easily convince her. She was an adolescent fool, a prime candidate for a furtive flirtation. If Edward ended up with her fortune, and John ended up jilted, it would serve him right.
    “Edward ...” she breathed, overwhelmed by his proximity.
    “I can’t help myself when I’m around you.”
    “You’re so wicked.”
    “I’m just what you want in a husband, just what you need. Don’t deny it. John will never be man enough for you. You’re all fire and sparkle, while he’s—”
    “Hush! You mustn’t speak ill of him. Not in his own home.”
    “You’re correct.” He forced a pained grimace, as if torn by emotion. “Pardon me.”
    He seized her hand and kissed it again, then—thank God!—footsteps sounded down the hall so he had an excuse to lurch away.
    “ Adieu , Violet,” he whispered.
    He acted as if the words had been wrenched from his very soul, and he circled her and started up the stairs, knowing she couldn’t see him smiling as he climbed.
    Like taking candy from a baby, he mused. When it came to men, she was gullible as a nun.
    He reached the landing, and he was delighted to find one of the twins beckoning him to follow her. From a distance, it was difficult to tell them apart, but he assumed it was Melanie.
    Without discussion, they proceeded to the next floor where her and her sister’s adjoining bedchambers were located.
    They arrived at her door, and he hesitated, aware that he shouldn’t go in, but as was typical of many decisions in his life, curiosity overrode prudence.
    If he was caught, there would be hell to pay. John would brook no indecent behavior toward two orphaned girls living under his protection.
    Any infraction would spur John to extract punishment, but what kind? The options were all unsettling, but Edward discounted them and forged on. He marched into her room, and as the door was shut and locked behind them, he reeled with anticipation.
    What could she want? Whatever it was, it would be thrilling, the precise cure for the tedium he loathed.
    “Did you need something, Melanie?”
    “I’m Miranda.”
    “Oh, of course you are,” he blithely agreed. “My mistake.”
    “Melanie is taking a bath.”
    Ho-ho! “Is she?”
    “She sent me to ask if you’d like to wash her back. Father used to all the time.”
    The lucky, incestuous bastard! “You don’t say.”
    “She’s missed his . . . assistance. She thought you might like to aid her in his stead.”
    “I’ve never been one to refuse a lady.” He grinned like a lunatic. “Lead on, lead on.”
    Though he knew it was insane, he’d participated in their mischief in the past and was eager to do so again.
    They often plied him with liquor, then engaged in ribald conversation. Once, they’d procured some opium, and he’d smoked it with them. On another occasion, they’d had him flirt with their companion. He’d lured her out for a swim in the pond in the middle of the night, but John stumbled on her—drinking and in her drawers—and he’d fired her on the spot.
    Edward’s successful involvement in the companion’s removal had earned him a second evening of opiates, but that was as far as their interactions had progressed. They’d never previously proposed anything remotely sexual, but if they were inclined to take their relationship to a new level, he was happy to oblige.
    Miranda escorted him to the dressing room, which was situated between the two bedchambers. The hip bath was filled to the rim. Melanie was in it, submerged in the water, her head balanced on the edge. Her dazzling silvery hair was piled in loose disarray, a few ringlets dangling