“My lady?”

She blinked and looked around as the butler twitched dustcloths off delicate rose-colored furniture.

“What display would that be?”

Oh lord, would she never learn to think without involving her mouth in the process?

“’Tis nothing. You were saying?”

“This is yer sittin’ room, m’lady.”

She looked around and flinched visibly. “It is pink, Crouch?”

The pirate surveyed the room, hand and hook resting on his hips.

“Aye, that it is. A right nasty shade of pink too, I’m thinkin’.”

“I am agreeing with you, Crouch.”

“’Twas ’er ladyship’s favorite color. ’Er late ladyship, that is, yer being ’er new ladyship an’ all.”

Gillian took a deep breath and smiled at her stepson, who was staring with openmouthed fascination at a rather indecent painting involving an enthusiastic group of satyrs, nymphs, and cherubs. She took him firmly by the shoulders, then pushed him out the door after the butler, ordering him to wash up from the dusty ride before going downstairs.

Twenty minutes later the silent boy stepped into a small room lit by several stands of candles and a cheerful fire.

“Hungry, Nick?” Gillian waved a hunk of yellow cheese at him and pointed toward the end of the mahogany desk, where a light repast had been placed. She sat behind the desk, sorting through the post that had arrived that day, looking for a clue as to Noble’s whereabouts. “I’m hoping your father returns for dinner, but until then, I thought we might refresh ourselves. What have we here?” From beneath a stack of account papers peeped an edge of expensive-looking lilac paper. Gillian pulled it out and examined it, wrinkling her nose as she did so.

“Hmmm. Perfumed.”

Nick looked up from his bread and cheese at the disgusted tone in her voice. Gillian examined the direction on the front of the letter closely, sighed, then waved the letter back and forth gently as she nibbled on her lower lip.

“It is unethical to read a letter that is not addressed to you, Nick.”

Nick shrugged noncommittally and stuffed a large piece of cheese in his mouth.

“Close your mouth when you chew, dear, you’re spewing bits of cheese on your father’s desk. No, it is unethical and quite probably illegal as well.”

Gillian considered the two purple seals on the back of the letter. They had clearly been slit, indicating that Noble had read this letter. She glanced over at her stepson.

“You would not want your private correspondence being available to just anyone, now would you?”

Nick thought for a moment, then shook his head and washed down a big hunk of bread with a swallow of milky tea. Gillian watched the fascinating process, momentarily reminded of a large South American snake she had seen the year before.

Shaking away the image, she tapped her finger on the letter. “However, there are times when one has to breach protocol, such as in the case of an emergency. For instance, what if someone near to you—oh, let us just pull a person out of thin air and use your father for this example—if you knew that your father was in peril, and that you could save him if only you knew his whereabouts, and that those whereabouts might be ascertained if you were to read a letter addressed to him in a very definitely feminine hand on paper so scented with lilac that it could drop a horse at thirty paces; why then, you would be fully justified in reading that letter, wouldn’t you? Even though you would not consider such an action under normal circumstances?”