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Claire ought to have more faith.”
    “We have plenty of faith, but we both know you well enough to realize how . . .” She paused, clearly in search of a word that wouldn’t offend. “ . . . preoccupied you sometimes become with your work.”
    “Forgetful, you mean. Well, not today. Otherwise, you told me that I was in danger of becoming dull.”
    Ava smiled. “You could never be dull . You’re a Byron! But you do seem to spend a very great deal of time locked inside that workshop of yours. You need to be out among people. You need to mingle more.”
    He sent her a penetrating look, a prickle of warning running down his back. “As hostesses, it’s your and Claire’s job to mingle. I’m just here to eat and drink, speak to a select few people, then go home.”
    “And I know just the people with whom you should speak.”
    “ Mama, ” he said, the prickle sending up a definite alarm this time. “What are you up to? You’re not trying to matchmake, are you?”
    Ava looked offended. “Of course not. And I’m not up to anything. You know me better than that.”
    He nodded, relaxing slightly.
    “But an old acquaintance of mine, Lord Saxon, does happen to be here. He’s a widower, and he has brought his daughter with him. It’s her very first Season, and she’s a rather shy girl, in spite of her pretty face.”
    “Mother—” He scowled.
    “—You don’t have to pay court to her. Just engage her in a little conversation, perhaps offer to escort her into nuncheon.”
    “I’m not escorting her anywhere, and nuncheon is out of the question.”
    “Just make her acquaintance then. And be nice.”
    “I’m always nice,” he said on a rumbling growl.
    Ava sent him another look. “Nicer than that.”
    He swallowed a sigh of resignation. “Fine. I’ll be good. Lead on, and don’t blame me afterward if she wishes we’d never met.”
    S ebastianne collapsed into the wide chair in the housekeeper’s room— her room she supposed now that she had officially assumed her new duties. The chamber was small, yet tidy, an interesting combination of office and sitting area that was located in the basement. Here she could prepare marketing lists of goods and foodstuffs, reconcile the household accounts and speak to any staff who needed a word in private. The room was also the place where the senior staff—Mr. Stowe, Mrs. Tremble and Mr. Waxman—should he decide to join them—removed each day to enjoy their dessert, coffee and a glass of sherry once the servants’ dinner was finished.
    After her tour with Mr. Stowe, she’d assumed she might be able to sneak in a few minutes here and there to search for the cipher. With Lord Drake out of the house for the afternoon and evening, it seemed an excellent opportunity. But to her great frustration, she couldn’t find a moment to spare amid the myriad tasks that settled upon her shoulders. First, there were Parker and Cobbs to be satisfied, the housemaids hovering with clear expectation that she would want to inspect their work. Aware that this task was indeed part of her job, she walked through each room, checking for cleanliness and order. All the rooms, that is, except Lord Drake’s workroom.
    “We’re not to go in there without his lordship’s express permission and never when he’s out of the house,” Parker volunteered in a confidential tone. “Says we disarrange things even though they’re all a jumble to start. But he has a system, he says, and it’s not to be meddled with.”
    Cobbs nodded her agreement with solemn assurance.
    “Yelled at me something frightful one time when I first started,” Parker continued. “All’s I did was straighten a pile of his papers, and you’d think I’d tossed ’em all on the hot grate the way he carried on. Says I cost him an entire week’s work, but I don’t see as how I could have.”
    Sebastianne did, though, thinking of her father’s seemingly hap-dash way of organizing his own space. He too had a system