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time there had been a certain wistfulness about her that had tugged at his heart. He wanted to protect her but he did not think it was in his power to make her happy.
    Now things appeared to be changing for her, thanks to the mysterious Calista Langley. She was providing Eudora with the one thing he could not give her.
    He ought to be grateful that his sister was at long last emerging from her self-imposed martyrdom. Nevertheless, he was concerned. Calista Langley was an unknown quantity. His intuition told him that she had the power to disrupt his quiet, well-ordered, and extremely predictable life.
    He could not decide exactly how he felt about that but he was certain of one thing: he felt
something
—and the sensation was remarkably intense. Calista was the first woman in a very long time who had intrigued him more than the characters in his imagination.

6
    â€œI ’ LL BE GOING out tonight after dinner,” Andrew announced. “No point waiting up for me. I’m meeting some friends. I won’t be home until quite late.”
    His tone was laced with the familiar touch of defiance. Calista forked up a bite of stewed chicken while she considered how to deal with her brother’s announcement. The truth was there was very little she could do or say to stop him from going out on the town, and the last thing she wanted was a quarrel. You must choose your battles, she thought.
    Andrew was seated at the far end of the long dining table, hurrying to finish the meal so that he could leave the house to meet his friends. It might have been easier to talk in the more intimate confines of the morning room but Mrs. Sykes insisted on serving dinner in the gloomy, darkly paneled dining room.
    The housekeeper and her husband had lived and worked in Cranleigh Hall since taking up their first posts as maid and footman several decades earlier. They had grown old along with their grim, depressed employer,Roberta Langley. Roberta had left the mansion to her grandchildren but Calista privately considered that the Sykeses had a better claim on the moldering pile of wood and stone than she and Andrew did.
    She knew that she and her brother should be grateful to have such a distinguished roof over their heads. There was no denying that Cranleigh Hall had proved extremely useful as a business prop. Prospective clients were reassured and greatly impressed by the imposing residence and the elegant address in Cranleigh Square. But in Calista’s opinion, the great house would never be a warm and welcoming home to Andrew or to her.
    She had a number of concerns about Andrew’s new habit of staying out late into the night, but one of them was very personal and quite selfish. She did not want to be alone in the mansion. True, the Sykeses were always present, but they retired to their quarters promptly at nine o’clock, every night. Once they were abed, the loneliness that seemed to be infused into the very walls of the mansion emerged to haunt her.
    The anxiety that had been icing her nerves ever since someone had pushed the dreadful little tear-catcher through the letter box in the door two weeks ago had intensified thanks to the visit from Nestor Kettering that morning. For days she had felt as if her every move was being watched. And now she faced another night alone.
    She had to grow accustomed to the sensation, she told herself. Soon Andrew would announce that he wished to move into lodgings of his own. It was inevitable. Every young man needed to be free to discover his own path in life. She had no right to make him feel guilty for abandoning her.
    â€œWill you go to the theater?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant and politely interested.
    â€œMaybe.” Andrew wolfed down some green beans. “Probably play some cards afterward.”
    Calista tightened her grip on her fork and tried not to show her concern. Of all the myriad vices available to a young man in London, she most feared the gambling