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gray eyes on him.
    “You forget,” said his lordship gravely. “I have been out of shortcoats for some time now. I saw your father often at White’s. He, too, liked the gaming tables.”
    Louisa found tears gathering in her eyes and winked them back rapidly. It was no news to her that Papa had been a gamester, but she did not like to hear such things from a stranger.
    Suddenly she found that he had taken her gloved hand in his own. “I did not mean to distress you, really I did not. I meant only to indicate that I’m aware you may be in financial difficulties. And because of the debt of honor that my father owed Colonel Pickering, for that great kindness, I should be glad to assist you in any way possible.”
    This very considerate speech, which would have left any sane-minded woman eternally grateful, caused Louisa to sit up stiffly and reply in a voice that could not by the greatest stretch of the imagination be graced by that adjective. “That is most kind of you, milord, but I assure you, my Papa left us quite well provided for. I am capable of managing very well.”
    To this Atherton gave no reply, but Louisa was well aware that no look of belief registered in those dark eyes and the jutting of his strong chin indicated a man who was not likely to back down from anything.
    Therefore she was just a little surprised to hear him say, “I am sorry to have offended you. That was not my intent. And obviously this is not the place to discuss such matters.”
    To this Louisa could only nod in agreement.
    His lordship, seeing that they were entering London’s bustling streets, now inquired politely, “I shall need your direction for the driver.”
      “Of course.” Louisa, as she gave him the direction, noted with satisfaction the slight frown of puzzlement that furrowed his lordship’s brow. Arlington Street was not Grosvenor Square, perhaps, but it was a good address, a fashionable one even. Good enough for Lord and Lady Sefton. And Charles Fox, too.
    Before long the barouche was pulling up to the door. To Louisa’s critical eyes the outside of the house looked fine. The old red brick was mellowed richly. The windows, including the graceful fanlight over the door set between fluted Doric columns, sparkled in the sun. The front railings and the lantern holders had been newly cleaned.
    Yes, it was really a nice house, built, she had heard Papa say, for his family by Robert Adam the architect. It looked as nice as any house in the West End. On the outside.
    It was the inside that Louisa feared to have Atherton see. For his bright black eyes would miss no sun-rotted drape or use-frayed chair cover or outmoded sofa. She suppressed a sigh. Regardless of her feelings in the matter, she must ask the man in. Politeness decreed it.
    “Would you care to step inside with us for refreshment?” she asked. “I’m afraid Papa’s wine cellar is exhausted, but we might offer you a cool glass of lemonade.”
    “That is a capital offer,” said Atherton with a grin at young Harry. “The best offer I have had today.”
      “It is good lemonade, too, sir,” Harry returned. “Cook makes it with plenty of sugar.”
    “Just the way I like it,” said his lord-ship, swinging his long legs to the ground and assisting first Betsy and then Louisa to descend.
    As the children scampered on ahead, his lordship kept Louisa’s hand confined in his. “I collect you do not wish me to see inside your house,” he said dryly. “But, as I have a desire to do so, I shall impose on your politeness.”
    Louisa, looking into those dark eyes so close to her own, could find no words to reply to this rather blunt statement. She did try to withdraw her fingers from his, but he merely tightened his hold on them and made his way up the steps.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Drimble opened the door for them, the children having already hurried ahead to tell Winky about their wonderful visit. The old butler’s face reflected certain doubts, but Louisa