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merchant,” he snapped.
    “Not at all. Mr. Ramsbottom’s manners leave something to be desired, admittedly, but he is not by any means difficult to converse with.”
    Her quizzical expression brought a tide of heat to his cheeks. He had not been put to the blush in years and it did nothing to improve his temper. He had no desire to continue the conversation, but if he fell silent now, he would be proving her point.
    “My sister, Mrs. Parmenter, is next.” Wife of the codfish. He dared her to comment. “Then the Honourable Eustace Tuttle. He and his wife are old friends of my aunt.” Toad-eaters who bolstered her high opinion of herself and were often to be found living in clover at the Abbey, hanging upon his sleeve—to mix several metaphors. “Lady Wintringham you recall, I trust. Then one of the two young men you brought with you, I forget his name.”
    “I cannot see from here without peering. Tall and apologetic or short and chirpy?”
    Again his lips twitched involuntarily. “Tall and apologetic, ma’am.”
    “The Honourable Aloysius Reid. You see, we had aristocratic company on the Mail, though Mr. Reid rode outside so I had no opportunity to become better acquainted.”
    “I see.” He wondered if she was on the catch for a noble husband to save her from the miserable life of a governess. So bold a female would have little trouble entrapping a meek youth like Reid. Edmund disliked the thought intensely. He would keep an eye on the two while they were under his roof, he promised himself.
    “And beside Mr. Reid?” she queried.
    “Mrs. Tuttle, my aunt’s friend, and beside her, Lady Amelia’s husband, Lord Danforth.” A good enough fellow if one expected no more of a man than to keep his acres in order, ride bruisingly to hounds, and drink himself into a stupor after dinner. Still, Cousin Amelia seemed satisfied to lord it over her rural neighbours.
    “The gentleman who looks like a country squ...as if he enjoys country pursuits?”
    Miss Brooke had a devilish penetrating eye to go with her unbridled tongue! “The Danforths spend most of their time in the country,” he admitted grudgingly.
    “Do you often go up to Town, my lord?” she asked. Though the question was casual, he gained the impression that she was more than a trifle anxious about his answer.
    “I do not care for the Season’s entertainments. I go up occasionally to speak in the House of Lords and to attend the theatre and the opera.” And for auctions of rare books, but a provincial miss would scarcely be interested in those.
    Rather than pepper him with questions about the theatre and the opera, Miss Brooke returned with an unexpected air of relief to the subject of his present guests. “Since Lord Fitzgerald is beside me, and his lady beside him, Miss Chatterton and Mr. Hancock must be in between?”
    “Yes, and they are flirting abominably.” The moment the words passed his lips, Edmund wished them unsaid. He was descending to her level and Lavinia’s coquetry was none of her business. Nor did he consider it his business. If the girl hoped to make him jealous she was going to catch cold.
    Miss Brooke giggled. “I cannot say I am surprised. I believe Mr. Hancock to be a confirmed flirt.”
    “Indeed,” he said with quelling hauteur.
    “I beg your pardon, I should not make light of it, only I did not suppose you enamoured of Miss Chatterton?”
    Ignoring her enquiring tone, Edmund took refuge in silence.
    Jane accepted his retreat philosophically. Not only had she succeeded far beyond her expectations in drawing him out, she had nearly made him smile, and she had discovered that he did not attend Society parties. He was something of a recluse, she suspected, not surprisingly since he refused to put himself to the trouble of making himself agreeable.
    Of course, she was glad there was little risk of meeting My Lord Winter in London. Still, once or twice she had caught hints that beneath that icily handsome mask lurked a