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saw, as his eyes registered Atherton’s fine clothes and easy air, those doubts perceptibly faded.
    “Please see to some lemonade, Drimble,” said Louisa as the butler accepted his lordship’s curly-brimmed beaver and York tan riding gloves, her own shawl and bonnet.
    “Yes, miss,” replied Drimble dutifully.
    This done, Louisa led the way to the drawing room. Like so many London houses this one was long and narrow. The drawing room, in the back of the first floor, looked out on a shaded little court where bright flowers grew in gay profusion.
    “A pleasant room,” observed his lordship, but Louisa was not at all deceived. She well knew that those sharp black eyes were taking in every detail - from the faded and mended drapes on the windows to the frayed seats of the chairs and the number of tapers in the candlesticks. Thank God, said Louisa to herself, that everything that had to do with Lady Incognita was safely locked away in the writing desk upstairs. Nothing would escape this man’s eagle eyes.
    “Yes,” she replied. “I have kept it very much the way it was when Mama was alive. We used to sit here often.”
      His lordship strode to the window and looked out on the masses of flowers. “A pleasant prospect, too, though I fancy Repton had little to with that garden. Not enough orderliness there.”
    “Mama,” said Louisa, hoping he would not notice the tear in the drape that she had not yet had time to mend, “Mama liked to see the flowers all growing wild together. She said it reminded her of the country where she grew up.”
    Laying the sketchbook on a table, Louisa seated herself on a sofa and suppressed a sigh. The whole room looked incredibly shabby to her. Strange that she had never noticed it so much before.
    His lordship took a seat next to her and Louisa felt herself coloring up and wishing for Drimble to hurry up with the lemonade. She did not want to become the recipient of any more of his lordship’s pointed questions about her finances. As she was preparing herself for a fresh deluge of such questions, Atherton spoke. “Betsy seems to have a wide acquaintance with literature.”
    Louisa smiled faintly. “I am afraid that it is not quite as wide as I intended it to be when I gave Winky - Miss Winkstead, the governess - the money for the subscription to the Minerva Lending Library.”
      “I should not badger myself about it,” said his lordship. “A rich acquaintance with romances of horror, such as Betsy seems to have, is probably the prerequisite of most young misses these days.”
    Louisa shook her head. “These are not the sort of thing I would have her read.”
    “Do you not read romances?” asked his lordship, quizzing her dryly.
    “I have on occasion,” confessed Louisa. “But they may make a young girl believe that the world ... is not the way it is.”
    “Surely most young girls will not be that frightened of ghosts and such.”
    “It is not so much that,” said Louisa. “It is the heroes.” She stopped suddenly, wishing that she had been more circumspect. It was certainly ill-advised to be discussing such things with this man.
    “What is wrong with the heroes?” asked his lordship.
    “That is the trouble. They are all tall, dark, handsome, incomparable men.” she paused, not knowing how to go on.
    “Like the heroes of Lady Incognita. I presume you have read her romances. She is all the rage with the ton now,” said Atherton.
    Why was he looking at her so intensely? Louisa wondered. Could he possibly suspect? But no, her secret was safe. No one knew who Lady Incognita was, no one but Mr. Grimstead. And he wouldn’t tell.
      “I ... I have read some of her things,” faltered Louisa. “Though, since I have little contact with the ton, I was not aware that she had taken up with them.”
    This latter was not precisely true. For Mr. Grimstead on her last visit to him had smiled cheerfully and said, “Lady Incognita’s getting to have quite a following,