“Well, do I pass muster?” he asked, settling himself beside her and pouring them both a glass of the dark beer. “You were positively drinking me in, my dear.”

“You are nothing like your brother,” she answered, somewhat taken aback.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I have what is known as a thespian bent.” He touched his glass to hers. “Slainté, as they say here. Good health.” He took a long draught and smacked his lips theatrically. “I always know I’m in Ireland when I taste that.”

Margaret took a sip, nodding approvingly. “It is rather good.”

“You’re something of an expert, are you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, but I’ve had the occasional glass in Dublin.”

Lewis leaned back on his elbow, smiling over at her. “Have you, now? My mama told me that you were ‘a bit out of the ordinary way,’ and since that is how I view myself, I reckoned we would be bound to like each other.”

Elizabeth, Lady Londonderry, was one of her mother’s closest friends, which was why Margaret was here with Julia. She had lost her first husband, Viscount Powerscourt, when her three boys were very young. Though it was said that her second marriage was a love match, it, too, ended tragically when her husband, the Marquess of Londonderry was confined to a lunatic asylum, effectively making a widow of her for the second time. Like Victoria’s mama-in-law, Lady Cecil, Marchioness of Lothian, and Mama herself, Lady Londonderry had converted to the Roman Catholic religion in middle age. She was an established beauty and a woman of fearsome intellect, and Margaret had always found her rather intimidating.

“What else has Lady Londonderry said about me?” she asked Lewis, frowning.

“You must not worry that she has been spreading gossip. My mother is most discreet. She said only that you have a most decided mind of your own. Since I pride myself on sharing that trait, too . . .” Lewis made an expansive gesture. “She also told me last year, when I was first considering a visit, to leave you be.”

“And you have done so for almost a year, but now your curiosity has got the better of you, is that it?”

He shrugged. “If you must know, I needed a change of air.”

“There is nothing like the fresh Irish air for healing the spirit,” Margaret said, half teasing. “I myself am testament to that.” She waited for Lewis to elucidate, but he was frowning down at his hands, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Whatever the reason for your visit,” she said, “I am glad you are here.”

She earned herself a relieved smile for this. His reluctance to confide made her warm to him. He was not as shallow as she had first thought. She finished her porter, shaking her head when he made to top up her glass. “I like it, but more than one makes me feel sick.”