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the temperate can carry.’ ” Nick became silent for a moment. Then he eyed the valet. “You’re a bleeding mean old sod, Pertwee.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Why do you put up with me?”
    “I regard sir as a challenge.”
    “It’s ’cause you promised Jos you’d look after me, isn’t it?”
    “The marquess did ask me to take this position, but I wouldn’t remain if I didn’t consider the situation respectable, sir.”
    “Thanks, old chap.”
    “You’re welcome, sir.”
    Nick rose and grinned at the valet. “How long doyou think it takes to unload and store a red-granite sarcophagus?”
    “A what, sir?”
    “Never mind. Just hurry up and make me respectable. I’ve got work to do. And if I’m not quick, Lady Georgiana will have me out on my ear.”

4

    How she wished Jocelin were here, where she could tell him what she thought of his high-handedness. She had expected him to disapprove, even to try to stop her, but she’d never expected to be pounced upon by his outrageous friend. The impudence!
    Georgiana ducked under twenty yards of cream barege silk and waited while her maid, Rebecca, fastened the skirt at the back. She had been simmering near a boil for the last two hours while she’d supervised the unloading and storing of the sarcophagus. Now she wanted to get ready for tea early so that she could corner Threshfield and persuade him to oust Mr. Nicholas Ross. When she thought of this man—a near stranger—poking his nose into her personal affairs, she wanted to spit.
    Her mother would never have approved of such a lapse in decorum from her daughter. It was more than irksome that men like Mr. Ross could behave with unpardonable impudence and escape with little morethan a scandalized glance. But not a woman, not the daughter of a duke.
    But she shouldn’t lie to herself. She was angry at all men like Mr. Ross. Men whose appearance and charm allowed them to weasel their way into the affections of innocents. She had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t have had much patience with Mr. Ross had he been on his best behavior—not after her experience with Lord Silverstone.
    She had been introduced to Lord Silverstone during her first season, along with dozens of other suitable young men anxious to marry a duke’s daughter. He was the heir to a great title, and beautiful in a pale, round-chinned way so different from the rugged Mr. Ross. Nevertheless, she had been smitten with his artistic sensibilities, his refinement, his heavy-lidded and sad brown eyes.
    After one dance at a ball, Lord Silverstone had asked her father for her hand, and Georgiana had been astonished. All thoughts of independence fled her mind at the idea of becoming Silverstone’s wife. She had walked around in a fluffy daze while the duke had had a series of talks with Silverstone about the marriage settlement.
    The daze had lasted until her first real conversation with Silverstone. After one of the settlement discussions Silverstone had met her in the drawing room at Grosvenor Square. As she came into the room, she bent forward a little to reduce her height. Silverstone was shorter than she was. Conscious of her shortcomings, aware that Silverstone could marry any of a number of heiresses, she had been tongue-tied.
    She needn’t have worried about being able to say anything, because Silverstone embarked upon a lecture.He was quite sure she was aware of her duty as a wife, and he was gratified that he would be marrying a girl so well trained to undertake the responsibilities of a large household. Finally she’d gathered enough courage to mention her idea of a home for children.
    “Hardly a suitable occupation for a young bride,” Silverstone said. “No, there will be little time for that, what with the season and all. Establishing oneself as a major force in Society takes management, Georgiana.”
    “But I want—”
    “I can see we need to have a frank discussion,” he said. “I pride myself on my honesty, Georgiana.