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could turn up anything about Gideon."
    Francesca looked over at the duke. "Then ... you are the one who found him?"
    Rochford shrugged. "I can scarcely claim credit for it. All I did was hire a Runner to investigate the matter. He found Gideon in London. He was going by the name Gideon Cooper, and he had made something of a fortune for himself. Had no idea who he really was."
    "He didn't remember anything?" Francesca asked in surprise.
    "Apparently not—other than his given name, of course. He was only four when he was taken. He can remember nothing before the time when he was a street urchin in London."
    "But someone must have taken him in, cared for him," Francesca protested. "Did they know nothing about how they came to have him? Where he came from?"
    "Nothing," Lady Odelia declared with disgust. "He says he never had any parents, that he grew up with a bunch of disreputable children in the stews of the East End. Imagine, the son of an earl, a boy with Lilles and Bankes blood flowing through his veins, living hand to mouth in some hovel, consorting with God-knows-what sort of riffraff!" She shook her head, the purple plumes that curled over her unfashionably high hairstyle bobbing wildly with her movements.
    "But how did you know that it was Gideon?" Francesca asked curiously. "If he could not even remember, and there is no one around who raised him ..."
    "Oh, it was he, all right," Lady Odelia's tone suggested that she was less than pleased about the fact. "He had the birthmark—a little raspberry-colored blotch beside his left shoulder blade. Gideon had exactly the same mark from the time he was born. Pansy and I both remembered it. Of course, it looks smaller on an adult, but there is no mistaking it. A bit like a lopsided diamond. And, of course, he has the look of the Bankses. The Lilles jaw and hair, as well."
    "I see," Francesca said somewhat untruthfully. The truth was that while Lady Odelia's story was certainly interesting, she did not really understand why the woman had told it to her. She hesitated, then said, "I am sure you are quite happy to have him back after all this time." She looked from Lady Odelia to the duke, but there was nothing in his carefully schooled face that offered any enlightenment to her. She turned back to the older woman. "I'm not sure ... that is ... well, why do you need my help—or anyone else's, for that matter—to find a suitable wife for Lord Radbourne? You know everyone. Indeed, you know them better than I."
    "It is not finding a
suitable
woman. It is finding someone who is
willing,"
Lady Pencully replied.
    Francesca stared. "But surely, with his title and property ..."
    "Lord Radbourne has not been out much in society. No doubt it has been remarked upon," Lady Odelia said, fixing Francesca with her penetrating gaze.
    "Well, um ..." Francesca tried to think of a suitable reply.
    The truth was, gossip had been rampant regarding the newly found earl's absence from Society's rounds. Though he had turned up several months ago, he had not appeared at any parties this Season. Rumors had run the gamut from his suffering from some hideous deformity to his being a criminal to his being utterly mad.
    "Don't knit your brow over how to tell me," Lady Odelia went on brusquely. "Believe me, I have heard all the stories. He isn't crook-backed or stunted or covered in boils. Nor is he stark-staring mad. But the truth is ... well, he is ... quite common."
    Lady Odelia uttered the words in a hushed voice, as though admitting the darkest of secrets, and she squared her shoulders as she gazed at Francesca, waiting for her retort.
    "Aunt Odelia, aren't you being a trifle hard on the man?" Rochford remonstrated. "I think Radbourne's done quite well for himself, particularly given the circumstances."
    "Yes, if you are talking about making money," Lady Odelia sniffed. "He has done a good deal of that." Clearly her great-nephew's financial success had not met with her approval.
    "Scarcely the mark of a