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was about to excuse herself when a large, hulking figure garbed in Lady Ames’s distinctive blue and silver livery appeared in the doorway.
    Swan, Miranda’s personal footman, bore no resemblance to his graceful namesake. His neck was so thick that it was almost nonexistent. The planes of his face were flat and broad. The fabric of his expensive livery was stretched very snugly across the bulging muscles of his chest and thighs. His hands and feet made Emma think of a bear she had once seen at a fair.
    No wonder Chilton Crane had scrambled out of Miranda’s bedchamber last night after she had threatened to summon her footman, Emma thought.
    Still, there was an honest, earnest expression in Swan’s eyes that Emma found reassuring. Swan was no brute. He simply had the misfortune to look like one. From what she had observed, he was devoted to his mistress.
    “Beg pardon, sir,” Swan said in a voice that bore a striking resemblance to a rusty razor. “I have a message for you from my mistress. Lady Ames asked me to tell you that she will be happy to entertain your lady guests while you’re off at the races with the gentlemen.”
    “Excellent. I shan’t have to worry about the ladies growing bored while I’m away with the men, eh?”
    Swan cleared his throat. “I also have a message for you, Miss Greyson.”
    “Me?” Emma was dumbfounded. “From Lady Ames?”
    “Yes, ma’am. She instructed me to invite you to join her and the other ladies in the amusements she has planned this afternoon. She said she did not want you to wander off by yourself the way you did yesterday.”
    “Quite right,” Basil declared jovially. “As Lady Mayfield’s companion, you’re a guest here, same as the others, Miss Greyson. By all means, join Miranda and the ladies today.”
    It was the very last thing she wished to do, but she could not think of a polite way to refuse. “Thank you, Mr. Ware.” She summoned a small smile for Swan. “Please tell Lady Ames that I am very grateful for her consideration.”
    “My mistress is the kindest and most thoughtful of ladies.” There was something close to reverence in Swan’s harsh voice. “I am honored to serve her.”
    Oh dear, Emma thought. The poor man is in love with her.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T he tea was an unusual blend, Miranda had explained. It was mixed to her order by a merchant located just off Bond Street. She had brought enough with her to Ware Castle to allow the others to sample it.
    “I could hardly leave the tea to dear Basil, now could I?” Miranda had said when the first cups were poured for the ladies. “Men know nothing about that sort of thing.”
    Very slowly Emma put down her cup. She dared not move quickly. The sudden sensation of dizziness made her slightly nauseated. She would be mortified if she became ill right here in front of the fine ladies gathered in the circle around her.
    Fortunately, none of the others noticed her predicament. They were all engrossed with the new entertainment Miranda had suggested. A guessing game of some sort.
    Miranda glittered in her role as hostess for theafternoon. Her glossy black hair was upswept in the newest style. The vivid blue of her gown matched her eyes. She was not exceptionally beautiful, Emma thought, but she seemed to sparkle. Somehow, regardless of whatever was going on around her, Miranda man-aged to be the center of attention.
    Her faithful footman, Swan, watched her with an adoration that Emma found painful to behold.
    “Who can tell me what card I have turned facedown on the table?” Miranda asked brightly. “Suzanne? Will you try?”
    “An ace of clubs?” Suzanne, Lady Tredmere, hazarded.
    “No.” Miranda looked expectantly at the next lady in the circle. “Your turn, Stella.”
    “Let me think.” The tall, blonde woman pretended to deliberate for a few seconds. Then she laughed. “I haven’t the vaguest notion, Miranda. A three of diamonds, perhaps?”
    “I fear not.” Miranda’s smile had a