Tears filled her eyes once again, but they were held in check by the huge smile that graced her lips.

“That’s enough of that!” Gower said, his face red. “We are here on official bank business. I have no wish to see—”

“Goodness!” Ophelia said from where she sat perched on the window seat. “You won’t believe this!”

“What?” Sophia asked. “What’s happened?”

“There’s a carriage and eight in the drive! Two of them! And they both have crests on the doors and footmen and—”

Jane stood in the door. “If you are going to announce the guests, then I’ll go back upstairs and change the linens.”

“Who is it?” Stephen asked, looking completely confused.

Mr. Silverstone cleared his throat. “Perhaps Mr. Picknard, Mr. Gower, and I should leave so that—”

“No,” Chase said, pushing himself upright. He pulled Harriet with him and settled her on the settee beside him. “Sorry, sweet, but we’ve guests.”

Harriet snuggled in beside Chase, her heart humming. But before she could speak, a shadow darkened the doorway.

A man walked into the room. He was tall—only slightly more than Chase—but he exuded a raw power that made even Mr. Silverstone stand more at attention. He was soberly dressed, yet in the height of fashion, a blue sapphire nestled in the center of his cravat.

His gaze cut across the room and found Chase instantly. Harriet was suddenly struck with the resemblance. Black hair and clear blue eyes, an aristocratic nose, a natural air of hauteur…

Chase struggled to his feet, swaying slightly as he did so. “Marcus!”

The man came forward immediately and grasped Chase’s arm. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

Chase grinned. “You always said I needed a business venture, so I took up sheep shearing.”

“It looks like incredibly dirty and dangerous work. You’d better sit before you fall.”

Chase sat back down, immediately returning Harriet to his side.

Harriet caught Marcus’s considering gaze, her cheeks heating. To her surprise, he offered her a slight, calm smile before turning back to Chase. “I’m sorry I’m late. It took us some time to discover your whereabouts.”

“We?” Chase asked.

The doorway was immediately filled, this time with a younger man, though he was clearly marked by his black hair and laughing blue eyes. “There you are, you scoundrel.”

“Devon!” Chase grinned. “Marcus has you running fetch and carry, does he?”

“Lud, no. That’s why Anthony is here.”

“You brought our half brother?”

“Oh yes. He’s in the carriage now, with your present.”

“Present?”

“An early birthday gift.” Devon looked around the room, skimming over the bankers and coming to rest on Sophia. “Well! What have we here?”

Sophia’s cheeks flooded with color and she dimpled adorably.

Chase’s smile dimmed. “She’s sixteen, Devon.”

“Oh. What a pity.” Devon shrugged. “I wish I wasn’t a man of scruples.”

“Chase,” Marcus said softly, “perhaps you could do the introductions?”

“With pleasure. This,” he hugged Harriet tighter, “is Miss Harriet Ward. Harriet, m’love, these are my brothers, the Marquis of Treymount and Devon St. John.”