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here three months a year."
    "You could hire archaeologists to excavate it for you."
    Henry laughed and shook his head. "I couldn't stand it if they found anything without me."
    "It's quite an impressive dig," Trevor commented. "Roman architecture isn't my field of expertise, of course, but this looks to be in remarkably fine shape."
    "Not bad, not bad. Some earthquake damage, but that's to be expected. Any of the valuable objects that may have been here are gone, of course. But several of the mosaics are perfectly intact." He began a dissertation on Roman archaeology, and explained some of the advanced technology he had discovered on this site, including indoor plumbing.
    He looked over at Trevor. "But perhaps I'm boring you with all this talk about Roman ruins. Egyptology is your field, isn't it?"
    "Yes. I've been living in Egypt for the past ten years."
    "But you've just become the Earl of Ashton, I believe?"
    "Yes."
    Henry nodded and gave him a shrewd, appraising glance. "I understand you have inherited something of a financial crisis along with the title."
    Trevor continued to gaze down at the valley below. "Edward talks too much. And I fail to see how that is any of your business, Mr. Van Alden."
    "It isn't," Henry answered good-naturedly. "And Edward didn't tell me anything that hasn't been the talk of London for weeks. I already knew that the late Lord Ashton left his estate bankrupt and that you are without means or credit."
    Trevor bit back the curse that rose to his lips. Good God, did everyone in England know about his financial situation? And were they all going to bring up the subject so tactlessly?
    As if reading his thoughts, Henry held up one hand in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to offend you, but as a businessman, I confess I am curious about something. If you had money, what would you do with it? Buy more land, I suppose?"
    Trevor thought about refusing to answer, but Henry Van Alden was a very wealthy man, and he knew that wealthy men often made useful contacts. He reluctantly swallowed his pride and shook his head. "Normally, land is a safe and wise investment. But not in these times. With fixed rents and crop prices falling, tenant farming is simply not profitable, and I don't think that is going to change in the near future."
    "So what would you do?"
    "Industry," he answered. "Mills and factories are the way of the future, and that's where the money is."
    Henry eyed him in surprise. "That's not a typical attitude for someone of your position. Most of your peers insist on living exclusively off their land rents, even though it is no longer a profitable source of income for many of them."
    "Most of my peers don't seem to have a great deal of sense," Trevor answered dryly. "My brother certainly didn't."
    Henry laughed. "Well, this is something I never thought I'd see—an aristocrat who doesn't think it beneath him to be involved in industry."
    Trevor turned his horse around to head back to the house. "I am a practical man, Mr. Van Alden."
    "Yes," Henry said thoughtfully. "I can see that."

3

    Later that morning, when Margaret entered the dining room for breakfast, the smell of kidneys and bacon assaulted her. She'd never cared much for kidneys, and this morning the smell was particularly revolting. She paused in the doorway and pressed a hand to her rebellious stomach.
    Cornelia was seated at the table beside her husband, Lord Kettering. He gave Margaret a smile that seemed understanding and rather sympathetic, and she managed a faint smile in return. She'd always liked Edward. He might be a viscount, but he wasn't stodgy.
    Across the table sat the Duchess of Arbuthnot, who studied her with a displeased frown. "Margaret, my dear, you don't look at all well."
    "I'm fine, Lady Arbuthnot," she whispered, "just fine." She turned toward the sideboard, but not before she saw the duchess exchange a glance with
    Lady Lytton, who shook her head with clear disapproval. Margaret realized she had just made