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him, to have those mysterious brooding eyes watching for faux pas, while he systematically stripped each layer away in his search for imperfections.
    Those eyes…a woman could either be intimidated or besotted by those gray eyes. Thank heavens, Lucy was neither.
    “Thank you, Maggie,” Elizabeth murmured as her companion, who seemed to come out of the ethers, took her by the hand and helped her to lower onto the very settee that only seconds ago Lucy had been imagining the duke sitting upon.
    “Will there be anything else, my lady?” the portly but kind companion inquired while Elizabeth settled herself and arranged her skirts. With a gentle pat on the cushion beside her, she called her dog up, and Lucy could not help but grin at the sight of the very pregnant Rosie struggling to get her hind legs up onto the settee. Once the spaniel was settled and curled up by Elizabeth, she and Isabella took the chairs opposite their host.
    “Thank you, Maggie. I believe we shan’t stand on ceremony and all the little rules to tea today.” She smiled, and her gray eyes began to shine with mirth. “I am quite certain that my companions will see to it that I do not take it into my head to play hostess and pour.”
    Maggie sent Elizabeth a scowl, while Lizzy patted the companion’s hand. “Truly, Maggie, I am fine. Take the afternoon with my blessing. Lady Lucy shall act as hostess today.”
    Surprised, Lucy straightened her spine just a fraction. She expected Isabella to have been given the honors. After all, she was married now—to an earl—and was the only married lady at the table.
    “Will that do, Lady Lucy?” Elizabeth asked.
    “I would be honored, of course.”
    “Well, if I might dispense a measure of advice, Lady Lucy, it would be to watch that one,” Maggie said while pointing to Elizabeth who sat grinning. “Far too stubborn for her own good. Right then, I shall be on my way, but I won’t leave the house. Call if you need me.”
    “She’s right, you know.” Elizabeth sighed as the salon door clicked quietly closed behind Maggie. Settling back onto the cushions, Elizabeth allowed her hand to rest affectionately on Rosie’s pregnant side. “I am far too stubborn. But I shall not repeat my performance of yesterday. I nearly scalded poor Sussex. My brother—” Her words were whispered as she smiled fondly. “What he won’t do to make his blind sister happy. Even make her believe she could play hostess and pour tea.”
    There was warmth and a true sense of affection in Isabella’s voice when she spoke. “His grace seems so very nice. I cannot tell you how welcoming he has been to me since marrying Black.”
    “He wasn’t always so indulgent,” Lizzy said. “He was rather spoiled and selfish as a child—quite mean, as well. In truth, I didn’t really like him, and he washorrid to Mama. Like me, she was afflicted with dwindling sight, and I think Sussex feared it might happen to him…he hid that fear by belittling her—a trait he learned from my father.”
    “How horrible, Lizzy. To see you both together, one would never know the troubles between you. The duke seems, well, quite the perfect model as a brother,” Isabella observed.
    “No, I agree. Sussex is an ideal brother. I don’t know what caused his change—one day he was insufferable, and then he fell ill and was removed from London to an estate that Papa rarely frequented in Wales. It was above a year, I think, before I saw him again—Papa wouldn’t allow me, you see. I was kept away for fear of my own health. When we next saw each other I was completely blind, but I could tell he had changed. His voice was softer, his pattern of speech slower, more defined. In all, he was quiet. Composed…given to contemplation and silence—so unlike his prior proclivities.”
    “I suppose he became a man in that time spent away from you,” Isabella offered. “Little brothers, I should think, have a terrible tendency to grow up into men.”
    Lizzy