“The truth, Layla.”

“And I gather he had important things to do. He left for Brighton directly after speaking with your father.”

“ ‘Things to do,’ ” Edie repeated. “What sort of things?”

“Problems with the pound note. Don’t think about it too closely, darling,” Layla advised. Edie heard her opening the little tin box in which she kept her cheroots.

“What did he say, exactly?”

“Oh please, let’s talk about something more interesting! Kinross has one of the biggest estates in Scotland. You can only imagine, Edie. He arrived in two carriages, with eight grooms, all in livery; I saw it out the window. I expect you’ll live like a queen. Your father says he lives in a castle.”

“A castle?” Edie digested that. “But he couldn’t be bothered to take me for a drive before making me chatelaine of that castle? You’d think he’d be interested in waiting until we’d eaten a meal together. What if I slurped my soup or sucked on chicken bones? Do you suppose he has illegitimate children waiting at home?”

“I doubt it. More importantly, since his parents have both passed away, you won’t have to cope with a ferocious Scottish mama.”

“Then what could be more important than wooing his future wife?”

“You have to look at it from a man’s point of view, Edie.”

“Play the man and enlighten me.”

Layla’s voice dropped into a deeper register and she said, “I am the top catch on the marriage market. After I have selected an appropriate consort, I shall inform the young lady’s father of his good fortune.”

“It’s not entirely illogical.”

“Your father likes the duke very much.”

“That’s no recommendation. Do you suppose Kinross will deign to return to London before we marry?”

“He’ll travel from Brighton to the Earl of Chatteris’s wedding, so we’ll see him there.”

Edie groaned. “One of the Smythe-Smith girls, isn’t it?”

“Honoria. She’s quite lovely. I know you think she’s not a good musician—”

“There’s no thinking about it. She’s terrible.”

“That’s as may be, but she’s also extremely nice.”

“I don’t like house parties. I can never find the time to practice.”

“Your father said he expects you to behave like a proper lady now that you’ve made your debut, Edie. That means very little practicing when you’re not at home.”

Edie made a rude noise. She hadn’t been able to play her cello yesterday owing to her fever, not to mention preparations for the ball. She rarely practiced fewer than five hours in a given day, and she had no intention of altering her habits. “What if my marriage ends up like yours?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my marriage,” Layla said. Edie could hear her blowing a smoke ring out the window.

“You sleep in separate rooms.”

“Everyone in polite society sleeps in separate rooms.”

“You didn’t when you were first married,” Edie persisted. “I often saw Father kissing you, and once I saw him pick you up and throw you over his shoulder and practically run up the stairs.”

A silence ensued. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“Why not? I was a beast to you, but inside I was glad to see Father so happy. Giddy, almost.”

“Well, that’s marriage for you,” Layla said. “Giddy one moment, indifferent the next.”

“I can’t imagine Kinross being giddy, can you?”

“Could you have imagined your father giddy, if you hadn’t seen the evidence with your own eyes?”

“No.”

“Temporary madness,” Layla said sadly. “Jonas came to his senses and realized that I’m a light-headed fool, and that was that.”

“You are not a light-headed fool!”

“I had it from the horse’s mouth, just last night.”

“Father said that?” Edie pulled off the cloth, pushed herself up against the pillows, and squinted blearily at Layla. Her head was throbbing, but there was no mistaking the downcast expression on her stepmother’s face.

Layla stubbed out her cheroot and returned her pink glass holder to its tin box. “I shall ring for Mary so you can take off that corset and crawl into bed. Would you like a cool bath?”

“Yes,” Edie said. “But are you truly miserable, Layla?”

“It’s only a fit of the dismals,” she replied, coming over to perch on the side of the bed. “I shall miss you, and the thought makes me fidgety. Here, let me feel your head.”

“Now that I’m almost a married woman, will you tell me exactly where Father goes at night? What I’m getting at is, does he have a mistress?”

“I haven’t actually asked him.” Layla bit her bottom lip, and then she said: “I don’t want to know. Goodness, but your head is warm. We have to cool you down.” She reached over to pull the cord that summoned Mary.

Edie couldn’t seem to keep her mind focused on any particular subject. “What does Kinross look like—up close, I mean?”

“Ferociously masculine. Beautiful in that male way. Shoulders as broad as a plow horse’s, with muscled thighs. I’d like to see him in a kilt. Do you suppose he’ll wear one at your wedding?”

“Do you think he has a sense of humor?” And then Edie held her breath because, to her mind, that was the most important feature one could possess. Having been called beautiful all her life, she knew just how meaningless that attribute could be.

Silence.

“Oh no,” she moaned.

“It was a very formal occasion,” Layla offered. “I could scarcely tell him a joke about a Welshman and wait for his reaction.”

“I’m to marry a Scotsman the size of a bloody tree, with no sense of humor and an impulsive bent.”

Layla shrugged. “You’ll have to stop swearing, at least in his presence, darling.”

“Why?”

“He seemed a bit formal.”

Edie groaned. “I’m marrying my bloody father.”

“That makes two of us.”

Three

En route to the New Steine Hotel

Brighton

At the very moment his betrothed labeled him impulsive, Gowan was saying the same to himself. He had never done anything so reckless in his life. Never.

In fact, Gowan couldn’t remember doing anything impulsive, let alone jumping into one of the most important acquisitions of his life, without doing diligent research beforehand.

The truth was that he never made direct purchases of any kind. He had people to do that sort of thing. He didn’t care to shop. The only things he bought directly were his horses.

But—and it was a reassuring thought—he had bought most of his horseflesh without fuss. He saw the right mare, and recognized instantly where she would fit into his breeding program.

Obviously, that wasn’t a flattering way to think about his future wife, but it was true. He had taken one look at Lady Edith and knew immediately that he wanted her. And her children.

The idea of bedding her was entirely pleasing. For all her modesty in gaze and demeanor, her body was delightfully rounded. Other young ladies looked like skeletons swathed in a yard or two of fabric. Whole rows of skeletons, with their ringlets bouncing off the sharp edges of their bony shoulders.