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considered indelicate. Once or twice she caught Gracie glancing at her anxiously and would have liked to reassure her that she was minding her tongue. Then she realized that Gracie was actually concerned about Lady Fitzgerald. The urge to speak out redoubled, but Jane restrained herself.
    Gracie was sitting beside Mr. Selwyn. Jane had noticed them talking together during the first course. Now Gracie was attempting to converse with the lacklustre gentleman to whom they had not been introduced owing to Mr. Ramsbottom’s eruption into the drawing-room. The gentleman appeared to be as monosyllabic as Lord Wintringham.
    The earl was now well matched. His other neighbour was the lady who so closely resembled his aunt, and she made no effort to break his silence.
    Jane laughed at the conclusion of Lord Fitzgerald’s story and asked him a question which started him off on another. A remove of game pies and roast fowl came and went, and was succeeded by a third course of fruit pies, pastries, jellies, cheeses, and savouries. Mr. Ramsbottom pronounced his contempt for such fal-lals. Jane turned back to Lord Wintringham.
    He looked unutterably bored. She resolved to break his reserve or die trying.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    With mingled dismay and curiosity, Edmund observed the glint of determination in Miss Brooke’s blue eyes. What notion had the chit taken into her head now? So far, she had behaved with surprising propriety, even laughing at Fitz’s dullest stories.
    However captivating her laugh, Edmund had no intention of attempting to amuse her. She was useful as a foil against Lavinia, but he owed her no especial courtesy. On the contrary, in fact. He feared that by bringing her in to dinner he had set her up in her own conceit and he might be forced to give her a set-down.
    Nonetheless, he awaited her words with no little interest. Anything must be preferable to his cousin Amelia’s disdainful silence.
    “I must beg a favour, my lord,” Miss Brooke began, and he automatically stiffened in preparation for refusing whatever encroaching petition she uttered. “Would you mind telling me who everyone is? You see, I have been little in company and I have not the knack of remembering names. Besides, you were interrupted when you were so kindly introducing us to your guests.”
    “If you wish.” He felt a ridiculous sense of disappointment at so ordinary a request. “Next to me is my cousin, Lady Amelia Danforth. She is Lady Wintringham’s daughter.”
    “I guessed as much. They are very alike, are they not?” Miss Brooke had the wit to speak softly—and the effrontery to raise her nose in the air and peer down it superciliously. She had caught Amelia’s expression to the life, and Edmund could not prevent his lips twitching. What was worse, she saw it, damn her impudence.
    “Lady Amelia and my aunt are both uncommonly fastidious,” he said coldly. She was unabashed. “Next to my cousin is my brother-in-law, Mr. Henry Parmenter,” he continued. Parmenter bore an undeniable resemblance to a codfish—a boiled codfish, at that. Miss Brooke wisely made no attempt at mimicry.
    “Hmm,” was all she said, but she gave him a commiserating look.
    “Miss Gracechurch and Mr. Selwyn you know. Miss Neville is a distant cousin of mine who acts as companion to my aunt.”
    “She seems sadly woebegone.”
    Edmund had scarcely noticed his poor relation for a long time. Now he saw that she was indeed in low spirits, with lines of tiredness and anxiety on her plump, round face. The position of companion to Lady Wintringham was no sinecure. There had been some talk awhile since of Miss Neville’s going to keep house for a widowed brother, but her ladyship had declared that she could not manage without her. Should he have taken the trouble to ensure that his little cousin followed her own inclination?
    He resented Miss Brooke’s disturbing his conscience. “No doubt you would be woebegone if obliged to sit beside the Manchester