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dancer."
    "She is a" The pitched whisper came again. "A Cyprian ."
    The earl intervened, laying a hand over his wife's. '"That is quite enough. You will make yourself overwrought."
    "I am overwrought. Your son sees to it, my lord. He has neither your sense nor your compassion to have it be otherwise."
    Sighing under his breath, South lowered himself into a chair, politely sipped his tea, and let his mother slowly cease to spin. He loved her dearly, but ofttimes she reminded him of a tightly wound, brightly colored child's top. He had loved that toy, too.
    The countess did not linger overlong on the problem of the opera dancer. She went to the heart of the matter, a concern for which she could depend upon the full support of her husband. "It is time you marry, South. There can be no getting around it. I was speaking to Celia only yesterday about this very thing."
    South noted his mother conveniently did not mention two things of import. One, that she spoke to Celia every day about this very thing, and two, that Celia was Celia Worth Hampton, the Dowager Countess of Northam. Only a few short breaths earlier, his mother had spoken of North as one of his friends "of a certain reputation." Now that same friend was no doubt about to be lauded for having had the good judgment to enter into a matrimonial state. There would also be no reference to that event as a most ramshackle affair.
    South remembered with some fondness that his spinning top had had the same dizzying affect on him.
    Lillian Rheems Forrester continued in this vein for several minutes, making the most of her son's good-natured forbearance. When she finally finished, she regarded her firstborn with satisfaction, certain she had mined every nugget and could not have but persuaded him with the logic of her arguments and the soundness of her advice.
    Over the rim of his teacup, his eyes hooded to hide their glazed expression, Southerton nodded serenely. "I shall apply myself immediately to the matter of securing a wife."
    The countess threw up her hands. "Speak to him, my lord," she said to her husband. "I find myself out of all patience. He only means to humor me."
    Redding bit the inside of his lip. "Right you are, m'dear. South, you will cease to humor your mother."
    "Yes, sir."
    The earl looked askance at his wife. "See, it is done."
    Lillian's dark-gray eyes darted between the two male loves of her life, and she surrendered. "Oh, very well. You shall each defend the other. It is always thus even when you pretend it is otherwise." Her gaze alighted briefly on her grandson, and she saw Emma's embrace tighten protectively, albeit with great care. Hah! There was the future of the Forresters.
    South almost laughed out loud when he saw his mother's attention shift to the next generation. He might have felt sorry for Niles if he hadn't been so certain of Emma's ability to protect her son. As for Emma, it was her loose tongue that had dealt him this harangue in the first place. He had no misplaced sympathy for her.
    "Since no one has any interest in my version of the events of last evening," South said, "I should like to hear how it came to your earsand in so short a time. I am only recently risen from my bed."
    Emma volunteered that she heard it first from her own husband at breakfast. He had had it from Lord Hastings during his early morning ride in the park. She could not account for the provenance of the tale, but she heard a similar story from Lady Rowena Douglass, who had come calling that morning. The earl and countess remained silent about their source, as if there was some doubt in South's mind.
    "The critics say she is quite a remarkable presence on stage," Emma said. "Is that your opinion as well, South?"
    "Yes, that's a fair estimation."
    Emma sighed. "I do so want to see her. I did before, you know, and Welsley had agreed to take me. Now, with you at the center of this bit of business, he says it will have to wait. Just when everyone else will be clamoring to