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elegant
finery for his evening off. Varying shades of pistachio were being
put to the test tonight. But no, a hint of yellow and white peeked
above and below the satin coat proving that yellow polka dots could
compete admirably with vivid green.
    "Oh, Mr. Mornington, ladies, sir," said
Farquhar, bowing as low as his stiff shirt points would allow. "I
say, sorry to intrude."
    "Farquhar," William said with an edge.
    "Oh yes, of course. Mustn't interrupt the
fine ladies and gentlemen. Where is that sorry dog of mine? Oh,
there you are sweetheart." Jack Farquhar spied his pug and came
around. "There, there, you mustn't make such a fuss when deprived
of the new bit of hide"—the valet glared at William—" someone forgot to bring you."
    William passed the dog and mauled shoe to his
valet.
    "I will require a word with you later,
Farquhar."
    " Oui, monseigneur ." The valet adopted
his most formal stance and clicked his heels while bowing.
    Farquhar departed while cooing silly nothings
in his pet's ear, but not before everyone noticed him slipping
William's shoe back to Mrs. Tickle for the pug's further enjoyment.
The door closed shut.
    "I'm all amazement by the long leash you
allow your man," Mornington said, recovering from shock.
    "Yes, well, I suppose I tolerate it because
he allows my leash to be equally long." William would never forget
the number of times he had been unable to pay Farquhar during the
last year and the man's unquestioning loyalty and bravery.
    William turned to see Miss Somerset on the
verge of bursting with laughter. Tears filled her eyes and a
delicate napkin covered her mouth.
    "You find this amusing, Miss Somerset."
    "How could one not?" she said, not trying to
hide her delight.
    Well, at least Farquhar had accomplished what
he had not. She was finally at ease and looking as if she was
enjoying herself. And it was a sight to behold, merriment in her
eyes and a charmingly pretty smile.
    William turned to see the ever-present
reverent expressions on Mornington's silly sisters. It was not
every day he encountered a female unwilling to preen and flirt with
him. Miss Somerset obviously mistook him for a harmless dandy.
    It was insulting.
    It was delightfully amusing.
    It presented an irresistible challenge and
sparked a devilish idea for bringing about an end to his fiscal
woes, with the added benefit of providing amusement to his stay in
this backwater village on the edge of nowhere.
     

     
    The early morning of the following day,
Sophie retraced the path of the evening before. There was certainly
no harm in spending a half-hour's time in an upstairs chamber of
Hinton Arms, accompanied by her maid, Mademoiselle Karine. The
tailor would not dare ask her to undress. He would simply measure
her waist and the length to the floor, and she would ask him to
estimate the roundness of her lower limbs.
    The imposing thirteenth century stone manor
house, adorned with elegant chimneys and carved parapets, came into
view. A newly constructed Palladian bridge with clusters of
jonquils surrounding the bases provided an elegant passageway over
a narrow section of lake, which fronted the house. Sophie smiled as
she thought what Aunt Rutledge's opinion would be of the idea of
Sophie having a pair of pantaloons made to go fishing. London felt
wonderfully far away, indeed.
    Of one thing she was certain. She had nothing
to fear from Lord William, especially this early in the morning. He
was a do-nothing bit of frippery who would surely have tonnish , slug-a-bed tendencies. Truly, the man cared for
nothing more than lavish displays of colorful silks, rivaling the
rainbow. And his curious man, Mr. Farquhar, was a strange popinjay
of awe-inspiring proportions.
    The Misses Mornington had claimed he was Lord
William's valet, but certainly this could not be so. What man of
the serving class would be allowed such freedom of dress and
behavior? Lord William seemed to be on the most intimate of terms
with his employee.
    Yet there was