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her, arms outstretched like a wrestler coming at his opponent. Jewel smiled grimly at the sight; she had always been one to enjoy a good mill.
    “Come on then, buckos, and I’ll ’ave meself a piece of each of ya!” The cockiness of her words matched the gleam in her eyes. Not for nothing had she grown up in the slums of Whitechapel. She would give them a fight they’d not soon forget …
    “I assume that you can explain this, uh, comedy, Smathers?”
    The drawled words dropped like icicles from above. Their effect on the four men was galvanizing. They snapped instantaneously to attention, eyes wide with apprehension as they turned collectively to look up at a lean blond gentleman clad in impeccable black evening clothes.
    He stood near the top of the elegant staircase that curved down into the hall, one hand on the highly polished balustrade as he surveyed the scene below with cold detachment. But his apparent disinterest was not shared by the equally blonde beauty standing one step above him.
    “Really, Sebastian, just look at the hall! There’s water everywhere! Smathers…. Oh, lud, Sebastian, he has a-a-a trollop in here!”
    “I ain’t no trull!” Jewel interjected, belligerence flashing in her eyes as she glared at the pair on the stairs.
    “Sebastian, she spoke to me! A female of that stamp! Oh, lud, I fear I am going to faint!”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline. Even you could not faint merely because a common wench spoke to you.”
    The words, uttered in the iciest voice Jewel had ever heard, were withering. The blonde woman’s eyes flickered once, and then she folded her lips together and was silent. But as twin flags of color rose in her cheeks, she glared at all those in the hall who had witnessed her discomfiture and Jewel knew who would pay for her embarrassment.
    “Well, Smathers?” The blond gentleman regarded the little group below with cold distaste. The only apparent change in his expression was a slight lifting of his eyebrows. Jewel was surprised to see that the small gesture caused Smathers, the magnificent personage, to sweat.
    “I’m very sorry for the commotion, your lordship. This … female,” his eyes flamed for a second on Jewel, “forced her way in. I was just going to have the footmen throw her out.”
    “That seems to be the proper course of action,” the gentleman said. Apparently losing interest now that all was on its way to being resolved, he turned back to Caroline and offered her the support of his arm. “Continue with it.”
    “Yes, your lordship.” There was relief and grim satisfaction in Smathers’ voice, and vengeance in the look he turned on Jewel. He and the three footmen moved toward her purposefully.
    Jewel waited until they were close before shoving the chair toward them with all her might. Its carved feet screeched over the marble floor, caught on the edge of the carpet, and overturned with a crash. Smathers swore and grabbed for Jewel, but she had already darted between the two footmen, and was dodging behind a small table decorated with a ridiculously large blue and white vase filled with cream-colored roses.
    “Oh, lud, have a care for the vase! It’s a Meissen!” The screech came from Caroline, who had only managed to descend one stair on the gentleman’s arm. Her blue eyes, large with horror, were on the vase, which tottered dangerously on its stand. Jewel, seized by an inspiration, snatched up the vase and held it high over her head.
    “C’mon, then,” she said to her pursuers with relish. “An’ I’ll smash this thing to smithereens.”
    Smathers and the footmen stopped in their tracks, their eyes darting fearfully from the uplifted vase to Jewel’s determined face to the horrified one of the lady above.
    “Really, Sebastian, can’t you do something? This is dreadful! Suppose our guests arrive early, and chance to see this—this disgraceful display?”
    “Your guests, my dear—not ours. Nevertheless, you have a point. Gossip