Gabby had a splendid wounded look, when she chose to employ it. “I view you as my personal friend, Quill. My only friend in England,” she added. “If you are not to tell me how to behave, who will?”

“Peter,” Quill replied decisively. “Peter is extremely good at this sort of thing.” And for the first time, he felt quite happy at the image of Peter returning from Bath.

Gabby had risen from his desk and was wandering about his library, so Quill drew up a sheet of parchment and scrawled a note to Peter on the spot.

Future wife is now adequately attired in Carême. She demands to be entertained in society. Please return at once, or I shall be forced to introduce her myself.

The note had precisely the effect that Quill expected. The idea of someone other than himself undertaking the delicate task of introducing Gabby to the London ton sent a shiver down Peter’s backbone. Moreover, the idea of his elder brother—so careless and indelicate in his ways—performing that task was like to make his hair stand on end.

Viscountess Dewland fully participated in her son’s feelings. “My darling, you must return to London at once,” she urged him. “Quill is the best of sons, but he has no finesse. Your father is in good fettle.”

Peter nodded. Within a week, he was posting back to London. It was just as well, he thought to himself in the corner of the coach. His knee-high boots had gained an appalling scratch on the inner left sole. New ones were a necessity, and only Hoby made boots with a proper sense of fashion. Nothing, but nothing, in Bath had been worth purchasing.

Chapter 9

LUCIEN COULD NOT BRING himself to make impertinent inquiries about the lovely Thorpe sisters, but he had no such hesitation about Emily’s male spy, Mr. Hislop. And everything he heard confirmed his worst suspicions. Mr. Hislop was a lecherous young sprig, known to be in the petticoat line.

So, against his better judgment, Lucien presented himself at the door of Mrs. Ewing’s small house on Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock precisely. He intended to deal with Mr. Hislop while making it perfectly clear that his only interest in Mrs. Ewing was avuncular. He had spent a good deal of time brooding over the concept of becoming a paterfamilias to both Emily and Phoebe. It was all he was good for, with his widowed heart and old body.

When Sally answered the door, she curtsied and said that Mrs. Ewing was not receiving callers. But Sally was no match for the lure of a shilling.