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financial straits.
    Or get her into a worse mess. At least, in her mutton-fisted way, she now had control over her income. She used to dread Robert’s coming home to announce he’d ordered a dozen cases of claret, or bought a masterpiece from an unknown artist. The walls of her drawing room were jammed with such oeuvres, though better them than the huge sums tossed away at the tables. She could have tried to stop him, but she never did, any more than he attempted to manage her. That was their pact when they went their merry way to Gretna Green, a pair of children tossing away the shackles of convention. No more guardian, no more mother. They would always do exactly what they wished.
    â€œI wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to be wed again,” Julian said, “but a little amour would set you up. I am offering my services.”
    â€œHow flattering. I’ve always wanted to be the recipient of charity.” There was no desire in his blue eyes. “If I accept your offer, will you leave Cynthia alone?”
    He flashed his rare genuine smile, an unguarded one that revealed the generous man Caro knew lay buried beneath the ruthless cynic. Deeply buried. Sometimes it was hard to remember he existed. “Don’t bluff a bluffer, Caro. I might just take you up on your offer. Then where would you be?”
    â€œI won’t be your lover—not that you wish it—and I won’t let you hurt Cynthia. I’m warning you.”
    Julian raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re a frightening woman, Mother Caro. There’s nothing wrong with offering occasional respectable escort to the wife of one of my oldest friends when he is unable to do so.”
    â€œThe friend you haven’t spoken to civilly in at least five years. Leave Cynthia alone.”
    â€œI hear and obey.”
    He would, of course, do just what he wanted. But not before Caro had a chance to warn her inexperienced friend and give her some much-needed advice about dealing with attractive rakes.
    â€œWhy are you here, then? Not to dine with a group of young artists whose work you despise.”
    â€œI called because I heard an interesting rumor about the Farnese Venus. ”
    â€œI heard that rumor too. It’s nonsense of course.”
    â€œIf you still have it, I’ll buy it from you.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t have any money.”
    â€œI can always find money to buy a really great picture, and the Venus is one of the best small Italian masters I’ve ever seen.”
    Caro shrugged. “I don’t have it. I believe Robert sold it to Marcus.”
    â€œNow that’s something I haven’t heard before. I must see if I can locate our old comrade Lithgow. Last I heard, he was in Naples.”
    Excellent. That should fob Julian off for a few weeks. Before his unexpected inheritance, he’d been an art dealer with a well-deserved reputation for terrier-like tenacity in pursuit of an Old Master. If he really believed she still had the Titian, she wouldn’t put it past him to tear her house apart. She didn’t think he knew about the closet. Robert had always clung to the secret of its existence, and she’d never told a soul. Not even Oliver, thank God.
    M iss Anne Brotherton was perfectly happy. She could scarcely believe she’d managed to get away from Miss Agatha Smart, her pious companion, and Lord Morrissey, her equally officious guardian. Only the unlikely coincidence of Miss Smart’s sister’s last illness coming just as Morrissey was appointed to the viceroyalty of Ireland had enabled Anne to escape the echoing halls of Camber. Morrissey would never have let her visit Caro and the cozy house in Conduit Street. Anne hated to think what he’d do when informed of her present whereabouts by Mr. Thompson, his fellow trustee of the Brotherton fortune.
    She’d cross that bridge when Morrissey crossed the Irish Sea. Meanwhile, she had a