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Octavia, exuding triumph. “I’ve even beaten Carlton House to it.”
    “To what?”
    “Why, Count Adam Zaleski, of course.”
    “The gentleman who plays the pianoforte?”
    “That is to understate his brilliance, for I’m told that he’s a joy, a wizard, a positive genius—added to which he’s said to be the most handsome creature imaginable. And he’s playing first at my ball.”
    “That is indeed a coup.”
    “I’m very pleased with myself, for it required some very subtle skullduggery on my part, to say nothing of bribing his valet to put my communication before his master first.”
    “You don’t change, do you?”
    “I sincerely hope not.”
    “You are fortunate that Seaham can afford your extrav agances.”
    Octavia sniffed. “Seaham has little choice in the matter, for if he kicked up about it, I’d make no end of noise about his Cyprians.”
    “That’s blackmail.”
    “He deserves it, for he forsook the marriage bed within months of the wedding. Not that I minded, for, to be sure, he is a clumsy fellow—as his Cyprians would tell him if they didn’t admire his purse so greatly. Actually, I wrong his latest amour by calling her a Cyprian, for although she is indeed an impure, she is an aristocratic one.”
    “Who is she?”
    “Lady Adelina Carver.”
    “The Earl of Canby’s daughter?”
    Octavia sniffed again. “The morals of a she-cat, just like her mother. Well, an actress as Countess of Canby, what else can one expect of the offspring of such a union? She’s flitted from lover to lover like a bee seeking honey, and the latest noble name on the list happens to be Seaham’s. Not that he’d stand a chance with her if the one she really wants would come up trumps. She’s only inter ested in Harry Ponsonby, you know, and has been for over a year now, but although he visits her frequently, she can’t get him to the altar.”
    “And so Seaham’s guilty conscience supports your extravagant entertaining?”
    “It does indeed, and serve him right. Although, I must confess that recently I may have gone a little far, even for me.”
    “In what way?”
    “Well, I have arranged a boating party on the lake at Stoneleigh Park, and one simply cannot go to anyone else but Gunter’s for the luncheon hampers, but my dear , they are two hundred guineas each this year. I’ve ordered one hundred and fifty, naturally, but I don’t think Seaham will be very amused, especially when there is also the cost of the champagne, transporting the golden barge, decorating the island for the feast, hiring the orchestra—to say nothing of the costumes and so on for Charles Allister’s masque—”
    Alabeth could almost sympathize with the Duke. “Oh, Octavia….”
    “I know, but really, if one is going to do something, one must do it well, mustn’t one?”
    “It seems one must.”
    “And when dear Charles told me about his masque, I simply had to include it.”
    “What is it, an improving tract for spendthrift wives?”
    “Hardly, my dear, for Charles Allister has more money than sense, and he is extravagant by nature.”
    “And how is he?”
    “Flourishing, but still too nice for the wretches of London society, and that’s a fact. Truly, he’s a catch for some enterprising wench, for he’s a darling.” Octavia paused. “I agree with your dear Father, Charles Allister is perfect for Jillian.”
    “I don’t know that I’d wish Jillian, in her present mood, on Old Nick himself, let alone poor Charles.”
    “Hmm, well, she’ll come around in the end, you see if she doesn’t. Anyway, I simply must go, for I’ve a hundred and one things to do before luncheon.”
    “Are you starting a new fashion for calling at breakfast time?”
    “There aren’t enough hours in the day, Alabeth, so I’m simply being sensible. Oh, by the way, you and Jillian simply must come to the British Museum. I’ve managed to get a special dispensation for the party to include ladies— for, as you know, we are