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curious to meet Lord Avedon. I wonder if he has any younger brothers....”
    Lucy gave her a knowing look. “For me to marry, you mean? Let my poor heart recover first,” she said, but in no serious way. Her heart, she knew, was already on the mend. It was her wounded pride that still rankled, and Bigelow’s attention was a balm to it
    Mrs. Percy immediately dropped the subject. “Lady Sara lives in Hampshire. I was just thinking, Lucy, as her husband is a clergyman, he very likely knows your uncle Norris.”
    “Possibly, but he cannot know Bishop Norris is any kin to me. Let us not mention it. Uncle knows we are visiting incognito and will not say anything to betray us.”
    Mrs. Percy rather regretted she could not bring such a prominent relative forward to impress Lady Sara but was soon diverted back to her garden.
    Bigelow dropped in that evening after taking dinner with Avedon. Chenely was his second home, and he kept a full set of clothes there. He had changed for dinner, and it was an extremely elegant gentleman who was shown into their parlor at eight-thirty in a black jacket and pantaloons.
    “You put us to the blush, sir!” Lucy exclaimed. “We did not change for dinner, as we were dining alone, and the servants are so busy today settling us in.”
    Bigelow bowed and said, in one of his more foolish utterances, “Clothes may make the man, but they are not necessary for a lady. That is to say—I mean—dash it, Mrs. Percy, you look charming, as usual.”
    He was shown a chair, and under the chaperon’s deft questioning, he was led to reveal all the circumstances of his family. Of the house of Avedon there remained only his mother, Lady Bigelow; Aunt Sally, the deacon’s wife; and Uncle Adrian, who had no brothers. This was sad news. No, the earl was not married. A crusty old devil that no one in her right mind would have, if they wanted the truth, and the worst nipcheese in the kingdom.
    Lucy envisaged an elderly miser with a hunched back and foul temper. He must be considerably older than Lady Sara.
    Lady Sara’s daughter, Prissy, was mentioned, along with the fact that she was a great butter-toothed blob of a girl, the dead image of her mama, only even uglier. She would be here with Aunt Sal now if she wasn’t needed at home to look after the family. Which was a blessing for him, if they wanted the truth, for Aunt Sal meant to saddle him with the girl. Keeping her out of sight was the best way to hatch a match, which might just give them some idea what an antidote she was.
    The name Cousin Morton arose often. He was Mama’s cousin, a bachelor in very good financial circumstances, and a great fellow. Lucy’s interest was piqued till she learned he resided some miles distant.
    All this was interesting to hear, but when it was all told, and he began to tell them the same things again, the ladies found their caller wearying. Subtle hints such as yawns proved ineffective in getting Bigelow to vacate his chair. When the ladies’ jaws began to ache from yawning, it was necessary for Mrs. Percy to declare herself fagged from the trip, and remind Lucy that she was still recuperating and should not stay up too late.
    This did get through to Bigelow, and he leapt to his feet as if he had been prodded with a hot poker. “I am the most selfish beast alive,” he apologized. “Just because I have been having the most wonderful evening of my life is no reason to keep you ladies up. I shall pop around tomorrow morning to see if there is anything I can do for you,” he warned.
    “Oh, no! You need not put yourself to the bother,” Lucy said swiftly.
    “It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Percy. There’s bound to be a leak or a loose window or a door unhinged. The place is falling apart.”
    “Now you tell us, after gouging us five hundred pounds!” she teased.
    “By Jove, I’ll ask my uncle to cut your rent.”
    Lucy did not think it wise to disturb the miser and said that was not necessary. As she led him to the