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marble horseshoe steps leading up to the main doors and the
piano nobile
, the main floor.
    But it was the double doors below the steps that opened to admit her, the doors leading to the servants’ quarters. Mrs. Laycock, the housekeeper, would be pleased to receive Miss Hamilton in her private sitting room, a servant informed her with a half-bow before turning to lead the way.
    Mrs. Laycock looked rather like a duchess herself, Fleur thought, her slim figure clad simply yet elegantly in black, her silver hair dressed smartly on top of her head. Only the bunch of keys at her waist proclaimed her status as a servant.
    “Miss Hamilton?” she said, extending a hand to Fleur. “Welcome to Willoughby Hall. It must have been a long and tedious journey all the way from London. Mr. Houghton informed us that you would be arriving today. I am pleased thathis grace has seen fit to employ a governess for Lady Pamela. It is time she had more stimulation for the mind and more activity than an elderly nurse can provide.”
    Fleur set her hand in the housekeeper’s and received a firm handshake. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “I shall do my best to teach the child well.”
    “It will not be easy,” Mrs. Laycock said, motioning Fleur to a chair. “May I pour you some tea, Miss Hamilton? I can see you are weary. You will have the duchess to contend with.”
    Fleur looked her inquiry.
    “Armitage, her grace’s personal maid, has confided to me that the duchess is not pleased with his grace’s sending a governess without even consulting her,” the housekeeper said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Fleur.
    “Oh, dear,” Fleur said.
    “But you are not to worry,” Mrs. Laycock said. “It is the duke who is master here, and his grace has seen fit to look to the future of his daughter. Now, Miss Hamilton, tell me something about yourself. You and I will get along well together, I believe.”

P ETER HOUGHTON, SORTING THROUGH THE DUKE of Ridgeway’s post and setting aside invitations that he thought his master might wish to accept, knew that the duke was in a bad mood as soon as he entered the house and even before he came into the study. There was a certain tone to his voice, even when one could not hear the exact words, that betrayed his mood.
    And his grace was limping slightly, the secretary saw, getting to his feet as the duke entered the room and sinking back into his chair again when the latter waved an impatient hand. Normally his grace went to great pains not to limp.
    “Anything of importance?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the pile of mail.
    “An invitation to dine with his majesty,” Houghton said.
    “Prinny? Make my excuses,” the duke said.
    “It is a royal summons to dinner and cards,” the secretary said with a cough.
    “Yes, I understand,” the duke said. “Make my excuses. Is there anything from my wife?”
    “Nothing, your grace,” Houghton said, looking down at the pile.
    “We will be leaving for Willoughby,” his grace said curtly. “Let me see. I have promised to accompany the Denningtonsto the opera tomorrow evening in order to escort their niece. There is nothing else that cannot be canceled, is there? We will leave the day after tomorrow.”
    “Yes, your grace.” Peter Houghton smiled to himself as his employer strode from the room. It was two weeks to the day since the ladybird had been sent on her way by the stage. The duke had shown great fortitude in waiting that long before finding an excuse to go in pursuit.
    The Duke of Ridgeway took the stairs two at a time, as he usually did, despite the fact that his leg and side were aching. He rubbed absently at his left eye and cheek. It was the damp weather. The old wounds always acted up when the weather turned for the worse.
    Confound Sybil! She had consistently refused to accompany him to London since the time four years before when he had been forced to confront her and put an end to the wildest of her indiscretions.