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home.”
                  Horace looked the man up and down.
                  “My orders are to prevent you from spending any time alone with your niece.”
                  “Preposterous,” he grumbled. “This is my own house.”
                  Easton didn’t respond.
                  Horace stepped into the corridor, “You, there,” he pointed to a man carrying a trunk, “remove this man.”
                  The man with the trunk looked from Trent to Easton, “But, sir, he is my employer.”
                  Horace turned red, “Have all my staff gone missing?”
                  Mrs. Kern appeared by his side, “How can I help you, sir?”
                  Jillian had to smile at the thought of the diminutive lady overtaking the men who now traipsed through the house.
                  She slipped by her uncle, unnoticed. He was still running about in search of someone to come to his aid when she bid his staff goodbye and climbed into the carriage.
                  Slade was not at his sister’s house when Jillian arrived, but she did not expect him to be.
                  “Lady Amelia,” Easton looked to the woman, “this is Miss Trent, your brother’s betrothed.”
                  “Miss Trent, Lady Amelia Geary.”
                  Lady Amelia smiled and nodded, “Please join us in the parlor.”
                  “I was surprised,” she began as soon as they took their seats, “with the contents of my brother’s letter.”
                  Jillian hoped the surprise was not too distasteful, “I am afraid the whole day has been quite astonishing to me as well.”
                  Lady Amelia pressed her lips into a smiled, “Slade is not typically a rash man. He tends to think things over – sometimes for too long.”
                  Jillian wished she could assure the woman that there were extenuating circumstances, but to do so would open up all involved to censure.
                  “I do not know what my husband will think when he arrives home.”
                  Jillian had no answer for that.
                  “You seem to have injured your face, Miss Trent. How did it happen? Are you a horsewoman?”
                  Jillian knew a fall off a charging animal could explain the myriad of bruises, but she would not lie about it.
                  “I used to ride often,” she changed the subject instead. “Sometimes more than once a day.  There is great freedom in being on an animal that moves so swiftly.”
                  “I’m terrified of them,” Lady Amelia responded. “Much to Slade and Anthony’s disappointment.”
                  It hadn’t occurred to Jillian before, but now she wondered if there was a possibility that she would be allowed to ride again. Uncle Horace had not wanted to replace the mare she lost when she was fifteen, and none of the other horses were suitable for riding.
                  “Slade said you were going to stay with us for three to seven days,” the lady began a new subject. “will you be going back to your uncle’s house then?”
                  Jillian shook her head, “I do not believe I will.”
                  Lady Amelia frowned, “Is there a problem there?”
                  “I believe Lord Ashley prefers I remain where he can watch me."
                  “For your entire engagement?” Jillian noticed that her betrothed’s sister was becoming increasingly more agitated.
                  “Lady Amelia,” she determined to tell the truth as much as it depended on her, “I am afraid there are things I am not at liberty to discuss. Perhaps I should talk to Lord Ashley, and he can