Livia and her sister, Aline, had been in awe of their older brother, whose constant striving for excellence led him to get the highest marks in school, to break all records in his chosen sports, and to judge himself far more harshly than anyone else ever could. Marcus was a man who could break a horse, dance a quadrille, give a lecture on mathematical theory, bandage a wound, and fix a carriage wheel. None of his vast array of accomplishments, however, had ever earned a word of praise from their father.

In retrospect, Livia realized that it must have been the old earl’s intent to drive every lingering touch of softness or compassion out of his only son. And it had seemed for a while that he had succeeded. However, upon the old earl’s death five years ago, Marcus had proved himself to be a very different man from the one he had been reared to be. Livia and Aline had discovered that their older brother was never too busy to listen to them, and that no matter how insignificant their problems seemed, he was always ready to help. He was sympathetic, affectionate, and understanding—miraculous, really, when once realized that for most of his life, none of those qualities had ever been shown to him.

That being said, Marcus was also a bit domineering. Well…very domineering. When it came to those he loved, Marcus showed no compunction about manipulating them into doing what he thought was best. This was not one of his more charming attributes. And if Livia were to dwell on his faults, she would also have to admit that Marcus had an annoying belief in his own infallibility.

Smiling fondly at her charismatic brother, Livia wondered how it was that she could adore him so when he bore the physical stamp of their father so strongly. Marcus had the same harsh-hewn features, broad forehead, and wide, thin-lipped mouth. He had the same thick, raven-black hair; the same bold, broad nose; and the same stubbornly jutting chin. The combination was striking rather than handsome…but it was a face that attracted female gazes easily. Unlike their father’s, Marcus’s alert dark eyes were often filled with glinting laughter, and he possessed a rare smile that flashed startling white in his swarthy face.

Leaning back in his chair at Livia’s approach, Marcus laced his fingers together and rested them on the hard surface of his stomach. In deference to the unseasonable warmth of the early September afternoon, Marcus had removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular brown forearms lightly dusted with black hair. He was of medium height and extraordinarily fit, with the powerful physique of an avid sportsman.

Eager to hear more about the aforementioned behaviors of the ill-bred Miss Bowman, Livia leaned back against the edge of the desk, facing Marcus. “I wonder what Miss Bowman did to offend you so?” she mused aloud. “Do tell, Marcus. If not, my imagination will surely conjure up something far more scandalous than poor Miss Bowman is capable of.”

“Poor Miss Bowman?” Marcus snorted. “Don’t ask, Livia. I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

Like most men, Marcus didn’t seem to understand that nothing torched the flames of a woman’s curiosity more violently than a subject that one was not at liberty to discuss. “Out with it, Marcus,” she commanded. “Or I shall make you suffer in unspeakable ways.”

One of his brows lifted in a sardonic arch. “Since the Bowmans have already arrived, that threat is redundant.”

“I’ll make a guess, then. Did you catch Miss Bowman with someone? Was she allowing some gentleman to kiss her…or worse?”

Marcus responded with a derisive half smile. “Hardly. One look at her, and any man in his right mind would run screaming in the opposite direction.”

Beginning to feel that her brother was being rather too harsh on Lillian Bowman, Livia frowned. “She’s a very pretty girl, Marcus.”

“A pretty facade isn’t enough to make up for the flaws in her character.”

“Which are?”

Marcus made a faint scoffing sound, as if Miss Bowman’s faults were too obvious to require enumeration. “She’s manipulative.”

“So are you, dear,” Livia murmured.

He ignored that. “She’s domineering.”

“As are you.”

“She’s arrogant.”

“Also you,” Livia said brightly.

Marcus glowered at her. “I thought we were discussing Miss Bowman’s faults, not mine.”

“But you seem to have so much in common,” Livia protested, rather too innocently. She watched as he set the pen down, aligning it with the other articles on his desk. “Regarding her inappropriate behavior—are you saying that you did not catch her in a compromising situation?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I only said that she wasn’t with a gentleman.”

“Marcus, I don’t have time for this,” Livia said impatiently. “I must go welcome the Bowmans—and so must you—but before we leave this study, I demand that you tell me what scandalous thing she was doing!”

“It’s too ridiculous to say.”

“Was she riding a horse astride? Smoking a cigar? Swimming na**d in a pond?”

“Not quite.” Moodily Marcus picked up a stereoscope that was poised on the corner of the desk—a birthday gift that had been sent from their sister, Aline, who was now living with her husband in New York. The stereoscope was a brand-new invention, fashioned of maple wood and glass. When a stereo card—a double photograph—was clipped on the extension behind the lens, the picture appeared as a three-dimensional image. The depth and detail of the stereo photographs were startling …the twigs of a tree seemed likely to scratch the viewer’s nose, and a mountain chasm yawned open with such realism that it seemed you might fall to your death at any moment. Lifting the stereoscope to his eyes, Marcus examined the view of the Colosseum in Rome with undue concentration.