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magistrate would probably have banished you from court, and Charlotte Longford would have received exactly the same sentence."
    Edward glared up at him. He sat up suddenly and drove his fingers through his hair as, apparently, his despair overtook him.
    Before such a pitiable countenence, Sir Claudius felt another wave of pity. "Edward, listen, I beg you," he said softly. "The walls are breached on occasion. Your dear mother breached them and quite successfully, but make no mistake, there's a large portion of influential England that has never forgiven her. Oh, the scandal is dead to be sure, but consider for a moment, if you will, what the public would do if your involvement in this sordid little affair were common knowledge? Do you think they would punish you?" he asked lightly, from the window. It was a rhetorical question, requiring no reply, and he received none. "Of course not." Sir Claudius smiled pleasurably. "You bear the onus of bastard, sufficient punishment in any man's eyes, particularly Tory eyes. No, they would turn their attention back to your dear mother. The Countess Dowager would again find herself confronting the fisherman's daughter, all her good works and exemplary life come to nothing."
    He paused for effect. Edward's face was a network of pain. Sir Claudius went on, exploiting the silent agony. "She still is like a beautiful child, warm and affectionate, and doubly .vulnerable now without the protection of Lord Eden. I counseled you silence then and now on her behalf." He paused again for effect, rather pleased with his impromptu speech. "There are worlds which separate us, Edward," he concluded quietly. "But on one point we stand as brothers, our mutual love for your dear mother and our desire that she should pass her remaining days in peace."
    Yes, it had a nice ring. Even the expression on Edward's face was rewarding, the pathetic downward angle of defeat. Perhaps once and for all he might rid himself of this foolish need for confession.
    He saw Edward lift his eyes slowly, hollow-circled from his sleepless night. "And what of Charlotte?" he asked quietly.
    Annoyed, Sir Claudius returned to his desk. "What of her? She'll survive. To be sure, it's barbaric punishment," he muttered, disconcerted. "But in a way she should be grateful. A burned hand is nothing compared to the public flogging which would have been her sentence a scant fifty years ago. She should be grateful to be living in such progressive times."
    Quite suddenly and without any warning whatsoever, Edward began

    to laugh. Sir Claudius stared at him, perplexed. Then equally abrupt, the laugh died. His face was completely changed, mocking, hard, clearly angry. Now Sir Claudius saw him leave the chair where he had sat slumped for most of the interview and lean sharply across the desk, "I wish to sell more land," he announced. "As soon as possible, as much as necessary. I have immediate need of five thousand pounds."
    Sir Claudius could only gape. So! This was the true purpose of the early morning meeting. "I must protest," he began, but that was as far as he got.
    "Your protestations mean nothing," Edward snapped. "I instruct you to sell, as much as necessary. You know my demands."
    Sir Claudius's voice became rasping under the duress of the moment. "You sold property only a month ago—"
    "And I intend to sell again, as often as I wish."
    "Your brother-"
    "My brother has nothing to do with it."
    "Your mother has suggested that—"
    "Nor has my mother anything to do with it. The property is mine. Legally, I have the right to do with it as I please."
    His voice and manner were firm, without margin. Sir Claudius retreated before such resolution. It was his quiet prediction that before the century had reached its halfway mark, the Eden family would tear itself apart, due to the foolishness of old Thomas Eden, who had left his estates to his bastard, his titles to the second, legitimate son, then conveniently had died.
    Now in the face of this