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like he did.”
    â€œI think he was trying to help us.” She turned to her maid in distress. “You know, to lure them off!”
    â€œI think so, too,” William admitted with a grim look. “Even foxed like that, a gentleman knows what he must do to help a lady.”
    â€œGod!” Daphne whispered, sickened to think she might have got a man murdered today. Equally disturbing was the thought of what might have happened to them if he had not come stumbling out of that brothel when he did.
    â€œNow, miss, ye must have faith,” her footman offered stoutly when he saw her stricken face. “I know what our old mum would say—the angels looks after fools and drunks and children.”
    She gave him a look of gratitude, then she shook her head. “Still, I cannot help wondering who he was.”
    â€œMaybe he’ll be at the Edgecombe ball,” Wilhelmina spoke up with a simple shrug.
    Daphne suddenly stared at her.
    â€œAye, if he is highborn, why not?” her brother agreed.
    Daphne absorbed this in wonder, but even as the notion filled her with wild thrill, she had no idea how she would react if she spotted that handsome maniac in the ballroom.
    The thought was so unsettling that she put it aside. “I implore you both to forgive me,” she said with a chastened glance from one twin to the other. “I had no right to risk your safety, no matter how noble the cause.”
    â€œAh, ’tis no matter, miss. All’s well that ends well,” William said as the gig glided to a halt before the Starlings’ large stone villa.
    â€œThank you. You both are so good to me. Um…” Daphne hesitated, turning back to them with a sudden afterthought. “There is no need to mention this, er, unfortunate incident to Lord or Lady Starling, is there?”
    The twins exchanged a firm but uneasy glance.
    â€œNo, miss,” her maid replied. “But we will not go back there.” The stubborn looks on both their faces told her they meant business.
    Not overly surprised at this rebellion considering all she had asked of them already, Daphne dropped her gaze. “Fair enough.” She’d have to figure something out for next week.
    They all went inside, and were immediately engulfed in all the usual clamor of home: the pounding of the pianoforte as Sarah banged away dutifully at the keys, while Anna went romping down the corridor amid raucous laughter, tormenting the cat.
    Daphne’s stepsisters, the two young, coddled, boisterous Amazons, ages fourteen and twelve, were the products of the once-widowed Penelope’s previous marriage to a navy captain.
    â€œAnna, where’s Papa?” she called after the younger girl, now dangling poor Whiskers.
    â€œUpstairs!”
    Daphne nodded, then paused, glanced in the parlor on her way, where footman Davis’s labors were evident in the newly rearranged furniture. Her eyes widened suddenly as she saw Mama’s old pianoforte now positioned on the wrong wall. Sarah stopped playing and looked over. “I hate this song! It’s too hard! What are you staring at?”
    â€œYour mother moved the piano,” she said softly.
    â€œWhat do you care? You never play it anymore.” Sarah huffed and changed to an easier piece, then resumed her banging.
    Daphne shook her head and moved on. Maybe she’d have been better off marrying Albert, if it meant getting out of this madhouse. She parted ways with the Willies in the entrance hall as they all went about their business.
    Still shaken up by their brush with danger, Daphne longed for a moment of her father’s company. He always made her feel calmer, and she wanted to let him know she was back. He was not in his cluttered library, so she sought him upstairs, moving lightly as she took off her bonnet and gloves.
    As she neared the master chamber on the upper floor, however, she slowed her pace with a sinking feeling, already hearing