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good girl, she was," Mrs. Stone said loyally. "He ravished her, I tell ye. She was an
    innocent lamb who knew nothing at all of the ways of the flesh and he took advantage of her. And they
    was engaged, after all. She trusted him to do the right thing afterward when she found out about… about
    the babe."
    "She believed, no doubt, that no true gentleman would cry off an engagement," Harriet said thoughtfully.
    "Well, a true gentleman would not have cried off," Aunt Effie observed tartly. "The thing is, a woman
    cannot always be certain of a gentleman's sense of honor in such situations. Which is why she must take
    care not to risk being compromised in the first place. When we get you to London, Felicity, you will do
    well to remember this dreadful tale."
    "Yes, Aunt Effie."
    Felicity rolled her eyes at Harriet. Harriet concealed a rueful smile. This was not the first time she and her
    sister had endured this particular lecture from their well-intentioned aunt.
    Effie saw herself as the final arbiter of correct social behavior in the household. She had firmly
    established herself as guide and guardian in such matters, although Harriet frequently reminded her there
    was nothing of note to guard them against here in Upper Biddleton.
    "Like I said, St. Justin ain't no gentleman. He's a cruel, heartless, lecherous beast." Mrs. Stone wiped her
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    eyes with the back of her bony red hand. "The earl's oldest son was killed shortly afore Miss Deirdre
    realized she was pregnant. He went riding near the cliffs not far from here and they say his horse threw
    him. Went over the edge and plunged into the sea. Broke his neck, he did. An accident, or so they said.
    But folks had their doubts later when they saw how the new viscount treated Miss Deirdre."
    "How awful." Felicity was still wide-eyed.
    "As soon as Gideon Westbrook knew he was going to get the title, he broke off the engagement to Miss
    Deirdre."
    "No. Did he really?" Felicity exclaimed.
    Mrs. Stone nodded mournfully. "Abandoned her straightaway, he did, even though he knew she was
    carrying his babe. Told her that now that he was Viscount St. Justin and would someday be the Earl of
    Hardcastle, he could do better than a poor rector's daughter."
    "Good grief." Harriet recalled the calculating intelligence in Gideon's tawny gaze. Now that she
    considered the matter, she had to admit it was difficult to see him as one who would be swayed by the
    gentler emotions, at least not if he had other goals in mind. There was something quite unyielding about
    the man. She shivered. "You say he knew Deirdre was with child?"
    "Yes, damn his soul. He knew it." Mrs. Stone's hands clenched and unclenched. "I sat up with her the
    night she realized she was carrying the babe. I held her while she cried all night, and in the morning she
    went to see him. And when she came back from the great house, I knew by the look on her face that he
    had cast her aside." The tears welled up in Mrs. Stone's eyes and trickled down her broad cheeks.
    "What happened next?" Felicity asked in a stunned little voice.
    "Miss Deirdre went into the study, took her father's pistol down from the wall, and shot herself. 'Twas
    the Reverend Rushton, poor man, who found her."
    "That poor, ill-fated child," Aunt Effie whispered. "If only she had been more cautious. If only she had
    had a care for her reputation and not put her trust in a gentleman. You will remember this story when you
    get to London, won't you, Felicity, dear?"
    "Yes, Aunt Effie. I'm not likely to forget it." Felicity appeared genuinely impressed by the harrowing tale.
    "My God," Harriet murmured. "It is all so unbelievable." She glanced into the fossil-littered study and
    swallowed hard as she remembered the way St. Justin had leaned over her desk and put his powerful
    hand under her chin. "Mrs. Stone, are you absolutely certain of your facts?"
    "Absolutely. If yer papa was still