“Yes. That’s the chap.”

“Good lord, he isn’t even a blood relation! He was married to some distant aunt, or half-sister of somebody or other, so far removed that Papa didn’t even recognize them in our family Bible!”

Fred returned his teacup to the tea tray. He leaned forward in his seat. “Your cheeks are flushed. Shall I ring for Bessie?”

“No!”

Ignoring her protest, he rose and went to the bell pull by the fireplace. After giving it a sharp tug, he came to stand beside her chair.

Maggie fairly trembled with suppressed rage. The bloody nerve of Fred. Using her ill health as a means to win an argument. “I don’t need Bessie,” she said stiffly. “I am not unwell. I’m merely angry that you—”

“Enough of this now. I shouldn’t have indulged you so. There’s reason such topics are kept from women. I’ve told you there’s no need for you to worry. That should be more than sufficient. I wouldn’t have given permission for you come to London if—” He broke off his lecture as the doors to the drawing room opened and Jane entered. His eyes narrowed. “Miss Trumble.”

“Mr. Burton-Smythe.” Jane crossed the room to Maggie, seeming to register her overwrought state in one comprehensive glance.

Fred moved to intercept her. “A word, if you please. I am informed that—”

“Yes, yes, I daresay.” Jane brushed past him to the tea tray. She swiftly poured out a cup, stirring in a generous helping of sugar. “Here you are, dear.” She handed it to Maggie. “A few sips of this.”

“I’m fine, Jane. Truly.”

“Drink,” Jane commanded. At that, she turned on Fred, drawing herself up to her full, and not inconsiderable, height. “This is my house, and Miss Honeywell is my guest. I’ll not allow you to browbeat her into a faint or a fever. You know she’s not been well since—”

“I’m perfectly aware,” Fred said through gritted teeth. “I can only wonder that you, being so solicitous of Miss Honeywell’s health, should have thought it a wise idea to burden her with a lot of baseless town gossip.”

“It is not baseless!” Jane snapped back. “Everyone knows you challenged Lord St. Clare. And as Miss Honeywell’s closest friend, I consider it my duty to give her fair warning when the man who controls her fortune is embarking on a course of action that will end with him getting his head blown off his shoulders.”

Fred gave Jane a look of withering scorn before turning his attention back to Maggie. “Put it out of your head, Margaret. And from now on, restrict yourself to more feminine concerns.”

Jane wasn’t so easily dismissed. “Feminine concerns? Like supper parties and the theater and shopping for new gowns, do you mean?”

“Precisely.”

“And how shall Miss Honeywell pay for these new gowns.”