"Yes, my lady. Indeed."

Alexandra's shocked gaze flew to the floor below just as Jordan himself emerged from a salon, his tall frame clad in impeccably tailored dark blue trousers and a white shirt, casually open at the throat. With him was the unmistakable figure of George, the Prince Regent himself, decked out in rich peacock-bright satins and velvet, beaming up at Jordan while proclaiming in the royal plural, "It was a dark day for Us when you disappeared, Hawthorne. We command you to take better care of yourself in future. Your family has been plagued with too many tragic accidents. We shall expect you to take every precaution in future. Moreover," he decreed, "We should like you to attend to the business of producing heirs to properly secure the succession."

Jordan responded to that royal edict with nothing more than an amused grin, and then said something inaudible that made the prince throw back his head and guffaw.

Clapping Jordan on the shoulder, the prince apologized for having arrived unannounced this morning, then stepped aside just as Higgins glided into the foyer in time to open the door with a flourish. It took a moment for Alexandra to recover from the shock of seeing Britain's regent in the very same house with her and to see Jordan treating said monarch in a manner so casual it verged on amused geniality.

When the foyer was empty of all but the butler, Alexandra gave herself a hard mental shake and walked slowly down the stairs, struggling to find some sort of mental equilibrium. Firmly setting aside the awesome spectacle of the regent, she turned her thoughts to an even more awesome event—her forthcoming confrontation with Jordan.

"Good morning, Higgins," she said politely as she stepped into the foyer. "Where are Penrose and Filbert this morning?" she inquired, looking up and down the hall.

"His grace sent them down to the kitchens when he arrived this morning. He did not think they… ah… belonged here where they would… or could… that is…"

"He wanted them out of sight, is that it?" Alexandra said tautly. "So he banished them to the kitchens?"

"Quite."

Alexandra froze. "Did you happen to tell his grace that Penrose and Filbert were my fr—" She checked the automatic impulse to describe them as friends and said instead "servants."

"I mentioned that, yes."

With a superhuman effort, Alexandra fought down a disproportionate surge of rage. Obviously the two gentle old men were not capable of dealing with the Prince Regent, or even this increased barrage of callers, and she had no quarrel with Hawk in that regard. But to humiliate them in front of the rest of the staff by banishing them to the kitchens—instead of sending them to another part of the house to help out—that was grossly unjust and unkind. It was also, Alexandra suspected, an act of petty vindictiveness on Hawk's part.

"Kindly tell his grace that I wish to see him today," Alexandra said, careful not to take her anger out on Higgins. "As early as possible."

"His grace also wishes to see you—at one-thirty in his study."

Alexandra glanced at the stately clock in the hall. Her appointment with her husband was three hours and fifteen minutes from now. Three hours and fifteen minutes to wait until she could tell the man she had mistakenly married that she wished to remedy the mistake. In the meantime, she would see the duchess and Tony.

"Alex—" Tony called from the opposite end of the upper hall, just as Alexandra was lifting her hand to knock upon the duchess' door. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked as he walked toward her.

Alexandra smiled at him with sisterly affection. "I'm fine. I slept away the afternoon and night. And you?"

"I scarcely closed my eyes," Tony admitted, chuckling. "Have you seen this yet?" he asked as he handed her the newspaper.

Alexandra shook her head, her gaze scanning the page which was covered with news of Jordan's abduction and his escape, including a glowing report of his bravery contributed by a fellow prisoner, the American whom Jordan had rescued—at the repeated risk of his own life, according to the articles.

The door to the duchess' bedchamber swung open, and two footmen came out carrying a pair of heavy trunks on their shoulders. The duchess was standing in the middle of the room, directing three maids who were packing all her belongings into trunks and portmanteaux. Good morning, my dears," she called to Tony and Alexandra, motioning them inside. Dismissing her maids, she sank down into a chair and beamed her general approval at the disorderly room and the two young people who sat down across from her.

"Why are you packing?" Alexandra asked anxiously.

"Anthony and I are repairing to my town house," she said as if Alexandra should have expected that. "After all, you've no need of me to chaperone you with your own husband."

The words "your husband" made Alexandra's heart shriek in protest and her stomach twist into knots.

"You poor child," said the duchess, astutely observing Alexandra's sudden tension. "What a series of shocks you have suffered in your short life, culminating in the one yesterday. The house is under siege by every gossip in London. Still, the furor will soon die down. In a day or two, we shall resume our activities and engagements as if nothing has happened that is of concern to anyone—except to us. Society will naturally assume Anthony had intended to marry you out of a sense of duty to his 'deceased' cousin, and now that his cousin has returned, everything has worked out to our complete satisfaction."

Alexandra could not believe Society would think any such thing and she said so.

"They will, my dear," said the duchess with an expression of amused hauteur, "because I said exactly that to certain of my friends who came trotting over here while you were resting yesterday. Moreover, Anthony was quite desperately in love with Sally Farnsworth last year, which lends credibility to the idea that he was marrying you out of duty. My friends will whisper all that into the right ears, and word will spread as it always does."

"How can you be so certain?" Alexandra asked.

The duchess lifted her brows and smiled. "Because my friends have much to lose if they fail to direct the gossip as I asked them to do. You see, my dear, the old adage which says that it is 'whom you know that counts' is far off the mark. It is what you know about whom you know that truly makes the difference. And I know enough to make things very uncomfortable for most of my friends."

Tony laughed. "You are utterly unscrupulous, Grandmama."