The next day he was in the entry hall to greet her when she arrived at his home. Her surprise was evident.

“I thought the address you gave me would be for another property of yours that you let out, one that was presently vacant. If I had known you were offering the hospitality of your own home, I would have . . .”

“Declined?” he supplied with interest when she failed to finish. “Would you really?”

She blushed profusely. “I would have liked to.”

“Ah.” He smiled at her. “But we can’t always do as we like.”

No indeed, or he would carry her straight away to his bed. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, or perhaps it was merely the bright daylight in the hall that revealed more of her perfection. Petite, narrow of waist, finely garbed in a fur-trimmed coat over mauve velvet skirts. A small, narrow nose. Dark gold brows, more a slash than an arch. Unblemished skin except for a small mole on the corner of her chin. Tiny earlobes with teardrop pearls hanging from them. She was every inch a lady, merely lacking a title that said so.

The Ascots had not been poor, likely were still well off. They were gentry. There was even an earl somewhere in their ancestry. They were quite socially acceptable to the ton, even though George had gone into business, which was not so frowned upon these days as it used to be. Albert had tried to do the same . . .

The only reason that Vincent had found it so easy to ruin Ascot’s financial reputation was that he was not in the country at the moment to put an end to the rumors that had spread about his dire straits. His prolonged absence had set his creditors to panic.

She came with an entourage, two women in their late fifties who looked nearly identical, and a pile of blankets that his coachman had carried in for them.

“We have bedding,” Vincent thought to point out.

Larissa was still blushing over being there. Her blush brightened more as she explained, “That’s my brother, Thomas. He has a dreadful cold. He wanted to walk, but the illness has sapped his strength.”

The blankets wiggled. The son was sick? Why had none of the reports he had on the family mentioned that? Vincent was pricked by his elusive conscience, but only for a moment. He nodded at his housekeeper, who had been apprised of the impending guests. She in turn nodded at the coachman to follow her. The two elderly servants did as well.