Emily swallowed and opened her mouth to answer, but Hislop held up his hand. “I will give you time to consider,” and he leered at her again, eyes lingering on her chest. “I will leave you with this thought: You need me, Mrs. Ewing. For example, no one but the most fashionable will be invited to the Countess of Strathmore’s ball. You need me and”—he giggled naughtily—“I need you.”

Emily pressed her hand hard to her roiling stomach as the door closed behind Mr. Hislop. Finally she lowered herself into a chair and concentrated, hard, on not crying. She didn’t even jump when the door to her study burst open and Phoebe came running in.

“Mama, Mama! Sally and I went to visit Kasi Rao, and Mrs. Malabright was packing everything!”

“Packing?” Emily tried to shape her face into lines of sympathy.

“They are leaving. Mrs. Malabright said that you must tell Miss Gabby, because she doesn’t dare write a letter. She said that men want to take Kasi back to India.”

“What?”

Phoebe nodded, her blue eyes round with fear. “They would make him go out in public, Mama. Around strangers. Kasi cannot talk to strangers!”

Emily took a deep breath. “Goodness, how surprising. Where is Mrs. Malabright taking Kasi Rao?”

“To her brother’s wife, who lives in Devon,” Phoebe said. “She told only me, Mama, and you are to tell Miss Gabby just as soon as she returns to London.”

“Mrs. Malabright was right to put her trust in you, darling,” Emily said, closing her arms around Phoebe’s round little body.

She would do anything—anything—to save Phoebe from the scorn of polite society. And if that meant that she had to say farewell to the seductive Lucien, so be it. And good-bye to the informative Hislop as well.

Phoebe looked up at her anxiously. “No one could take me away from you, could they, Mama?”

“Never!” Emily said fiercely. “You are my very own little girl.” She swallowed more tears. “Time to wash before supper! Quick as a bunny, Phoebe.”

GABBY ’ S HEART WAS POUNDING so hard that she could hear it in her ears. She wasn’t ready. It wasn’t nighttime. She didn’t wish to disrobe in an open room, with candles burning. But it was her duty, she told herself. Her father had made it quite clear that her husband’s wishes were to be her law.

“You said we would wait until we returned to London.”

“No,” Quill replied. “Can’t do it.”

There was a pause as he made his way down the long row of pearl buttons.

“The bell is going to ring for dinner. Your mother will think it quite odd if we don’t join her.”

“She’s eating in her room.”

“Well, then, Lady Sylvia will be affronted. You are her host.”