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anyone? However, I can’t be everywhere at once. I’ve agreed to seek my party’s nomination for the by-election coming up. My time will be taken up with election business. Then there are my newspapers to consider. I have to instruct my second-in-command on what needs to be done in my absence.”
    â€œIt sounds to me,” said Ash, “that you have too many irons in the fire.”
    â€œWhich is why I need your help.”
    â€œI’m listening.”
    Brand exhaled a long, slow breath. He said quietly, “I need someone to keep a close eye on Marion, at least until she gets settled in Longbury. Will you do it?”
    Ash grinned. “My pleasure, old friend, my pleasure.”

    After seeing Ash out, Brand returned to his parlor where his manservant was clearing up. Manley was a grizzled, hefty gentleman in his early fifties, a former trooper in a cavalry regiment, who had fallen on hard times. He was a genius with horses but had been let go by his last employer for insubordination. In fact, he’d been let go by several employers for insubordination. There was no doubt about it, Manley did not know his place, but he’d had the good fortune to find the one employer who admired him for it.
    Unfortunately, his talents were wasted because Brand did not keep a stable. He didn’t see the necessity for it, but hired whatever he needed at the livery stable off Pall Mall. All that was about to change.
    â€œManley,” he said, “we’ll be going to Longbury in the next week or two. I have a stable there lying empty. Tomorrow, you and I are going to Tattersall’s to look over the horseflesh and make a few purchases. I shall also require the services of coachmen, and the odd stableboy. I’d be obliged if you would take care of that for me. And Manley, only the best will do.”
    Apart from a slight working of his jaw, Manley showed no expression. “I think I can manage that, Mr. Hamilton,” he said.
    â€œGood. Oh, and I’ll need household servants, too.”
    â€œLeave it to me, sir.”
    That obsequious
sir
told Brand just how pleased Manley was about setting up the stable in Longbury.
    He turned away with a smile, but his smile faded when he noticed that the stuffing in one of the leather armchairs was poking through a seam. These chairs had once belonged to his grandfather. Ash would say that it was time to get rid of them, that they’d outlived their usefulness.
    He turned back. “And Manley,” he said, “I want you to find an upholsterer or a decorator or whatever. This place is downright shabby. I want everything refurbished, but don’t replace anything.”
    â€œYes, sir,” replied Manley.
    â€œAnd be careful with those glasses.” The glasses had also belonged to his grandfather.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    With a courteous “Good night,” Brand left the room.

Three days later found Marion in Cousin Fanny’s dazzling ballroom, sitting with the chaperons, as the orchestra tuned their instruments for the next dance. With a will of their own, her eyes kept straying to the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Brand Hamilton. He was in conversation with Cousin Reggie, and she knew they would be debating some finer point in the latest bill before Parliament. She’d done a little eavesdropping of her own these last few days, and as far as she could tell, Mr. Hamilton’s politics could be summed up as antimonarchy, antiestablishment, and just about anti-everything her father once championed.
    Yet everyone said that he would go far in politics if he chose to take up the challenge. Strange.
    Her reflections were interrupted when Lady Anne Boscobel’s chaperon leaned toward her and whispered, “The orchestra is striking up for a waltz. It would be quite improper for a young girl such as Lady Emily to dance the waltz.”
    â€œThank you for the warning, Miss Barnes.” Marion’s reply was