AVAILABLE FILE FORMATS: HTML for the standard computer, PDF for Adobe Reader, Rocket for the Rocket and REB1100, MS Reader for the PC and Pocket PC, FUB for eBookMan, Mobipocket for Palm Pilot, Pocket PC, and eBookMan, and KML for hiebook

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

Mackenzie Lancaster stood by the drawing room window looking over the manicured lawns of the Surrey estate where he had spent his early years. The flowering trees were beginning to bloom and the grass was light green with new spring shoots. He heard the door open and turned to see an elegant woman sweep into the room. Her green eyes flashed as she moved toward him.

"A pleasure to meet you my lady. I am Mackenzie Lancaster, the stepson of your late husband."

"Yes, Mr. Lancaster, I know who you are. So nice to meet you after all these years," she said in a chilling tone.

Mackenzie took her hand and bowed over it.

"My husband, your stepfather, has been gone these past nine months; I'm surprised this is the first I have heard from you." Her voice held a hint of sarcasm.

"I do a lot of traveling and then write articles about it. Though travel is not easy, the ton has flocked to Europe since the end of the war and people are anxious to read about places to visit.

"I was traveling in Italy on assignment when it happened. I did not hear about it until I returned to England last month. I am afraid I am very bad at staying in touch with those back home, and nobody thought to write and tell me." It was his turn to put a bit of ice into his tone.

Rose sniffed. "Frankly, Mr. Lancaster it never occurred to me. I was not under the impression that you were close to my late husband."

Mackenzie let out a mirthless chuckle, "Very true, we never spoke after my mother died. I gather that on her deathbed, my mother made him promise to pay for my education, but we never had any contact. Perhaps my stepfather mentioned that I was a writer." And then, he thought better of it and frowned, "No, I don't suppose he even knew that."

"I know in the very early years of our marriage he did hope you would come home from school at least once. It was obvious that he felt great sadness. I suspect he may have been rather hurt."

Mackenzie snorted, "Somehow I doubt it. I was twelve when my mother married him and in the few years I lived with him, I assure you, barely a civil word passed between us." His face brightened. "So what did he leave me?"

"That's a rather callous attitude. Are you not the least bit upset?"

"I told you--we did not get on."

She shook her head. "I have no idea what he left you. We have not been able to find the combination to his safe at Tremont House, and we are sure the will is in there."

"What?" Mackenzie almost shouted but managed to lower his voice. "He has been gone since last August!"

She shook her head. "Do you know the title and estate are entailed to his nephew Jarrett?"

"I suspected as much, but there was a small estate belonging to my mother and some money that was part of her marriage contract. I was sure that would come to me."

"I wish I could tell you something. I imagine he did leave the property and money to you, but without the will, we cannot be sure."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know why the authorities haven't insisted that it be opened. I suspect Jarrett has used influence as well as money to keep everyone away."

"Is this why you are staying in the dower cottage? Has Jarrett taken up residence in the big house?" he asked in a sympathetic tone.

"N-not yet; he is coming today." Rose couldn't keep a note of bitterness out of her voice. "His sister, an old friend of mine, will be coming also, and staying here."

"Well, I will insist that a safe cracker is hired to get into the safe at Tremont House. I want what is coming to me," Mackenzie said with determination.

"Oh, please do not upset him," Rose said wringing her hands, all her haughtiness suddenly gone. "He is so unpredictable and I am only allowed to stay here by his good grace, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Oh, nothing."

He bowed his head slightly, looking almost shy, and then flashed a smile in her direction. "I was...uh...hoping you would allow me to stay for a few days. There are some local sights around here that I would like to see and write about."

"Local sights around here?" she asked, looking suspicious.

"Yes, there are a few. In Guildford, one can find one of the steepest and most picturesque high streets in England. It also has some fine Tudor buildings as well as St. Mary's church built in eleven hundred eighty. Please say I may stay."

His big brown eyes were at their roundest and his smile was full of supplication. Rose found it impossible to resist. "Well..." she began, and then hesitated.

"Surely you are not concerned about propriety," he quickly added. "You just told me that your friend is coming to stay. Surely that will satisfy polite society."

Rose shook her head. "No, I am not concerned about that. You have just taken me by surprise. Could you not have written to me first?" she said, her voice betraying her irritation.

"I am sorry, your ladyship. The idea just came to me last night, and I set off early this morning."

"I see," she said nodding and chewing on her lower lip. "It is just that I live a very quiet life and am already expecting my friend."

"I promise not to get in your way."

She shook her head. "It isn't really that. It's just that your presence is bound to overset Jarrett whether you try to or not. I would not want him to think I was taking your side." After she said it, she paused for a moment and then rolled her eyes and said, "Oh! Bother it! You can stay for a few days."

Mackenzie's entire face lit up with a dazzling grin.

"I will call Sanders and he will take you to a guest room. We keep country hours here and will dine at six of the clock. Good day, Mr. Lancaster." Rose nodded and started for the door.

"Stay a moment." Mackenzie held up a hand. "Did you say your friend was Jarrett's sister? Is that some kind of unfortunate coincidence?"

"No, Faith and I went to school together. That was how I first met your stepfather."

"Ah," he said nodding his head. "I suppose it's easy enough for old reprobates to meet sweet young things when they have money," Mackenzie mumbled under his breath.

"Mr. Lancaster! I am about to rescind my invitation."

Mackenzie held out his hands, palms up. "No, I am sorry. I am really grateful and promise not to make any more disparaging remarks."

The corners of Rose's mouth crept upward. "All right, Mr. Lancaster, you may stay."

The butler, Sanders, led Mackenzie up the gleaming oak staircase to a bedchamber at the front corner of the house. A maid was there changing the bed and had the windows wide open. The scent from the rose garden beneath the window filled the room.

The chamber had a masculine feel with dark green velvet drapes and a matching counterpane and bed curtains. The furniture was built from sturdy oak.

"I 'member ye from when I was a girl," the maid said as she fluffed the pillows. "I be the daughter of ta cook."

Mackenzie stared at the girl for a moment. "Is that you Gracie?"

"That I be, Master Mackenzie." She hesitated for a moment, and then decided to speak up. "I guess I can tell ye now, that though I were only ten when ye left, I had a bit o' a soft spot for ye."

Mackenzie looked at the heart-shaped face, button nose and bow shaped mouth that made her look like a doll. The round, brown eyes said that she had just given voice to a private thought. Mackenzie smiled and nodded. "Thank you for that."

The noise of a carriage crunching along the gravel drive drew Mackenzie to the window. "There is a coach and four coming up the carriage-way drive. I can see a crest on the door, but can't make it out."

"Must be the new earl and his sister, Miss Caldwell. We's bin 'specting them," she said, her voice holding just a touch of censure.

"Oh, this should be interesting," he said with a sniff. "I am surprised he has taken this long to take up residence." Mackenzie's voice was edged with bitterness.

"I've 'eard he spends most of his time at his townhouse in Lunnon."

"Typical," Mackenzie muttered. "Is his sister staying here, or up at the main house?"

"She's staying' 'ere. I awready got 'er room ready," Gracie said, sounding as if she alone were responsible for running the entire household. She heaved a heavy sigh.

* * *

After her meeting with Mackenzie, Rose sat in the small sunroom, trying to embroider, but was unable to contain her annoyance and her stitches were a mess. Imagine the man just showing up here--no word--nothing.

Her two Siamese cats, Juno and Hera, sat on the green brocade settee next to her. Juno continually swatted at her thread while Hera looked on with all the disdain a cat could muster. "I can see I will not get much done with you here," Rose said patting the cat affectionately and putting her embroidery back in her workbasket.

Sanders tapped on the door and announced, "Lord Tremont and his sister, Miss Caldwell have arrived and are awaiting your presence in the drawing room, your ladyship."

"Thank you, Sanders." Rose stood, straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair and pasted a welcoming smile on her face. She was happy to have the company of her dear friend, but much less pleased at the thought of seeing her brother. Rose marched through the door with resolution and Hera and Juno jumped down to follow their beloved mistress.

She entered the drawing room with her two cats prancing behind. Her friend, Faith Caldwell sat on the gold and cream striped settee, hands primly folded in her lap.

As soon as the ladies saw each other, Faith stood and they flew into each other's arms. It had been many months since they had seen each other. They had been very difficult months, since Rose had lost her husband, and Jarrett had taken over the ownership of her home.

Jarrett stood at the end of the room, peering down his long, thin nose at a fine painting of the North Downs that hung over the fireplace. It showed the variety of landscape to be found around Guildford.

"Good day, your lordship." Rose sketched the barest suggestion of a curtsey. "That is a fine painting, is it not?"

He looks more like a scarecrow every time I see him, thought Rose. Those long skinny hands must reach to his knees. A shiver passed through her.

Rose's arms encircled her small, slight friend easily. At five foot two, Faith was five inches shorter than Rose, and rather frail. Rose led her friend back to the settee and settled next to her.

"It is so good to see you again," Faith said in her breathy voice as she gave Rose an extra hug.

"This is the first opportunity I have had to see you since your husband's sad demise. I have been in Scotland with my aunt."

"Yes, it has been quite a year," Rose said in a hollow voice. "My future has suddenly become rather tenuous." She shot a nasty look toward Jarrett.

Jarrett cleared his throat. "I have brought my sister to you as requested. I will go on to the big house and return to join you for dinner. I trust I am invited."

"Oh, yes, of course. I also have an unexpected guest. Mackenzie Lancaster has recently returned from Italy. He asked if he might stay for a few days."

"Lancaster? He is here?" Jarrett's eyes grew wide. "Surely you are not going to allow him to stay here. What of propriety?"

A look of disgust crossed Rose's face. "I hardly think either your good sister, a spinster, or myself, a widow, are likely to be fodder for the scandal-mongers."

She quickly changed the subject before she became overset. "I imagine you must have known Mr. Lancaster when you were young."

"Yes, yes," he said waving his hand as if to dismiss the memory. "But I was already twenty. He was but a child of twelve. As I remember, he was a rather dour lad."

That's not surprising; anyone would be dour around you, she thought. But her smiling face did not betray her thoughts.

At that moment, Mackenzie arrived. "Good afternoon, I saw the carriage from my window and Gracie told me you were expected, so I came to say hello."

"Mr. Lancaster, Jarrett tells me you knew each other when you were young," Rose said.

"Yes, we met once or twice in our early years." He went to Faith, bowed over her hand and said, "It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years."

"It is a pleasure to see you also. I see the years have been good to you," Faith said.

Rose wondered about that statement. She had been very surprised to see his dark brown hair shot through with lots of gray, even though she knew he was only five and twenty. Still, he did have beautiful big brown eyes with flecks of gold that peered from a classically handsome face. He had chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw line.

He turned to Jarrett; the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes suddenly became flinty. "I understand you are the new Earl of Tremont," he said as he bowed.

"Yes indeed, and everything is mine," Jarrett answered with a smile that looked more like a sneer.

A look of disgust crossed Mackenzie's face. "I would not be quite so sure about that. I understand that no one has seen the will."

"Well, that may be true, but until the will is found everything is mine."

It felt like the temperature of the room had plummeted and Rose thought, I didn't realize there would be so much tension when these two met. She knew that she must try not to anger Jarrett; maybe allowing Mackenzie to stay was a mistake.

Rose was about to embark upon some small talk to lighten the atmosphere when Jarrett said, "I will take my leave now and be back later. What time is dinner served?"

"Six of the clock," she answered.

After Jarrett left, Rose turned to Mackenzie. "I hope I will not come to regret my invitation, Mr. Lancaster. I have told you that I must not overset Jarrett."

"Fear not, your ladyship, I will endeavor to keep my tongue between my teeth."

"Thank you," she answered in a curt tone. "If you will excuse us now, I want to help Miss Caldwell get settled. We will see you at dinner."

Rose tucked her arm through Faith's and led her away.

The chamber Gracie had prepared for Faith was a sun-filled room decorated in cream and dusty rose. The walls were hung in a cream silk dotted with small pink roses. A dusty pink counterpane covered the bed and matching velvet drapes hung at the window. Faith looked around and smiled. "I take it the rose is still your favorite flower."

"Oh, yes, but I am not responsible for the décor of this room. I understand that the previous dowager redecorated this entire house in the late nineties. I am happy to say roses played a big part; she must have loved them as I do."

Faith sat down on the window seat. "Well, I think it is lovely."

Rose sat next to her friend, and said, "Now tell me how it has been with you since last we were together."

Faith sucked on one finger as she thought. "As you know, when I am at home in London, I spend much of my time doing charity work. The needs of the poor are never-ending."

"You are so good to work so tirelessly to help people. I wish I could be of as much use, but I am not really comfortable with strangers," Rose said, sounding a little wistful. "I like to be alone."

"That need not stop you. I am sure there is something that you could do. I will give it some thought and I am sure I will come up with something."

"That is good of you; I would truly like to help. Tell me about Scotland."

"As I said, my aunt asked me to join her there. You may well imagine that any excuse to get away from my overbearing mother and odious brother is more than welcome. I spent the winter there, but won't do it again. It was so damp! I was chilled for months!" She hugged herself and shivered theatrically.

"What about you?" Faith asked. "Your circumstances have certainly changed since last we were together."

Rose let out a deep sigh. "Last August when the old earl died is like a distant memory. The nine years I was married to him seem like another life now. You know I was not desperately in love with him, but father was anxious to be rid of me; it was beginning to look as if I would never marry. And a title was too good to refuse. Tremont and I were friends and my life was peaceful and secure."

"True, I never thought it was a love match. I suppose sometimes it is enough to be friends."

Rose sighed. "I think that is more than some find in the parson's mousetrap. Do you remember when I met the earl at Caldwell House? Your brother was showing an interest in me, and I was anxious to get as far away from him as possible. Marriage seemed like the best way to do it. Also, my father had no title and to have a daughter marry an earl was a step up the social ladder."

"I did not know about Jarrett, but now that you mention it, I do remember him hanging around a lot. Yes, I can imagine your desire to escape Jarrett's attentions."

"I miss Tremont and to find that I had become homeless was a most crushing blow. I wasn't expecting that."

"But, you knew of the entail, did you not?"

"Yes, of course, I knew; but Tremont always told me I would be taken care of, and perhaps I have been. Who knows?"

Faith shook her head. "I heard about the will, or I guess I should say the lack of a will."

"It galls me to be at the mercy of that toad of a brother of yours."

Faith snickered. "I wonder if anyone, other than my mother, actually likes him."

"Enough of this depressing subject; let's talk of something nice. Tell me what you know about my surprise houseguest."

Faith furrowed her brow and tugged on her lower lip. "Not much, I only met him twice when I was young. He was a very unhappy, distant boy, but I remember thinking he must have had a fun side buried below the surface; sometimes I would see a playful glint in his eye."

"And now?"

"I told you, I was in Scotland until just recently and even when I am in town, I lead a very quiet life."

"Well, I do not imagine he is a member of the ton and you would probably not meet him socially anyway."

"No, I do not suppose he is, but it does not signify; I would not meet him if he were. Mother still drags me out to ton functions occasionally, but I can usually manage to avoid them."

"I can tell you, I have read a few of his articles in The Traveler. They're interesting and quite funny. He has a sharp sense of humor; he obviously is no longer the dour boy he once was."

"I dare say. Let's hope we get him to display his funny side at dinner tonight."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Rose entered the small bookroom with the menus for the next few days in her hand. She planned to check them over and perhaps add a few courses. With the addition of Mackenzie, she wanted to be sure there would be enough variety. She also wanted to be sure there would be cherries jubilee that night for pudding. She had just remembered that it was Jarrett's favorite and had alerted the cook, but it was always a good idea to double check. I must try to turn him up sweet. "Ha! As if that was possible," she muttered as she opened the book room door.

She stopped in her tracks at the threshold when she saw her normally neat desk strewn with books and papers. Mackenzie sat behind the desk in no waistcoat, or jacket, his sleeves rolled up, and his discarded neck cloth hanging over the arm of the chair.

"Mr. Lancaster, what are you doing here?" Her voice was strident and she could feel the heat of anger warm her cheeks.

Ignoring her obvious annoyance, he looked up and flashed one of his charming grins. "I am sorry if I have overset you, your ladyship. I wanted to make some notes about Guildford before I go into town tomorrow. There wasn't a desk in my room, so I asked and was directed here."

As he spoke, he looked around at the small, cozy room with leather-bound volumes lining the walls. Sun from the window spilled across the damask covered brown wing chair that sat near it; it was the perfect spot to while away the hours between the covers of one of the many books. "I must say it's so pleasant in here, I just allowed myself to relax," he said, rolling down his cuffs and shrugging into his waistcoat and jacket as he spoke.

"If you want to use the desk, I can take this to my room" he said. "I prefer to work at a desk, but have made do with books spread over my bed countless times over the years."

"No, Mr. Lancaster, that won't be necessary," Rose said, trying to get over her irritation. "I have a desk in the morning room. I never use it; it is rather small and ornate, but it will serve my purpose." She turned to go.

"Don't rush off. Stay awhile and tell me a bit about Guildford. Perhaps you might tell me an interesting anecdote that I can use in my article. I find that gives readers something extra to which they can relate."

Rose raised her chin, and said, "I am sorry, Mr. Lancaster, I really do want to take care of these. I will see you at dinner. Good day."

Chapter Two

Shortly before six o'clock, the diners began to assemble in the drawing room. Rose watched her friend take the exact spot, on the striped settee she had occupied earlier that day. She wore a gown of cream colored silk with gold trim that exactly matched the settee on which she sat. She tended to blend in with it, and one had to look twice to see her.

Rose stood at the window watching the early evening sunlight cast long shadows across the park. She wore a gown of the dullest black wool that managed to make her skin and even her glorious auburn hair, look quite drab. Her hair was drawn back tightly and she wore a plain black muslin cap. Rose was confidant that she looked rather unappealing.

Thoughts of the initial meeting between Jarrett and Mackenzie played through her mind, and she hoped she would be able to keep the dinner pleasant. Jarrett was such a sour old thing and Mackenzie was a complete unknown. Well, not totally unknown, she corrected herself, but what little she knew of him did not bode well for a peaceful dinner.

She had hoped that on the day her friend arrived, they could enjoy a quiet dinner and a comfortable coze. Now it appeared that there was to be a tension-filled dinner with two gentlemen guests, neither of whom she was terribly fond.

The door opened and Sanders stepped in to announce the new Lord Tremont. Jarrett walked into the room in his usual ungainly fashion, head bobbing. He was only three and thirty but his baldpate and sallow, lined face, made him appear to be much older. He was dressed in a turquoise coat and bright yellow breeches. Rose thought he looked like a deranged peacock. He turned his beady, brown eyes on Rose and said in his nasal voice. "Good evening, my lady, you look even lovelier than this afternoon."

Rose began to roll her eyes, but stopped herself. She knew she looked anything but lovely and wondered what he wanted from her. Rose was very much afraid that she knew.

"Good evening, your lordship," she said with a tight smile. "I trust you found everything to be in order."

"Yes, indeed. The steward I have hired to run the estate is doing a very good job."

Rose swallowed a tart reply. The old earl had had very modern ideas about the capabilities of women. He had been a mentor to her and taught her all about the running of the estate. In his last years, when he had been so ill, she had done it all herself. To be replaced by a hired steward had been most insulting.

Jarrett nodded to his sister and crossed the room to join her on the settee. Before he sat, he pulled a perfumed handkerchief from his sleeve and waved it over the seat.

Rose managed to watch with a blank expression, but thought, what a fop!

Once again the door opened and this time, Mackenzie Lancaster sauntered in. This was a man who was comfortable in his body. Mackenzie walked in a smooth glide; he was fluid in his motion. He was dressed casually in brown pantaloons, a simple blue waistcoat, and comfortable-looking gold coat. His snowy cravat was tied in a simple knot. The gold coat emphasized the golden flecks in his almond-shaped brown eyes.

He reached Rose in a few strides, took her hand, and bowed over it. "My lady." His breath made the back of her hand tingle and she drew it back. She inhaled sharply, having forgotten in the few short hours since she had last seen him, how very good-looking he was.

He moved on to Faith, and greeted her in a similar fashion. "Your servant, Miss Caldwell," he said with a bow.

Then he turned to Jarrett and his expression became an icy stare. "Tremont," he mumbled.

"Lancaster," Jarrett said passing his gaze from Mackenzie's unusual gray hair to his shining Hessians.

"Boots are hardly dinner wear," Jarrett said with his nose in the air.

Mackenzie shrugged. "I suppose that is true, but it's all I have. Besides, I like boots," he said, turning to Rose with a grin. His white teeth gleamed in his tanned face.

Sanders announced dinner and as the hostess, Rose took the arm of the highest-ranking gentleman, Jarrett. She only cringed slightly when she rested her hand on his arm. Mackenzie and Faith fell in behind them, as they proceeded to the dining room. The room was on the same floor and they had only to follow a short corridor.

Once there, the wide double doors stood open to reveal a medium-sized room awash with light from the many sconces lining the walls, a crystal chandelier and a small fire. Sanders and a footman, Harris, stood by the tall mahogany sideboard surrounded by the mouth-watering smells of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

As Mackenzie took his seat, he took a deep breath, and patted his stomach. "Everything smells wonderful."

Jarrett took the seat at the head of the table, with one of the ladies on each side. Mackenzie found himself next to Faith. The butler poured the wine for Jarrett to taste, while the footman served. Jarrett exaggerated swishing the wine around his mouth, trying to impress upon everyone what a connoisseur he was.

Then Jarrett made much of flapping his napkin around, while Faith shifted her glance nervously from side to side, watching everyone. Rose sat on the edge of her straight-backed Chippendale chair, trying not to display her disgust at Jarrett's antics.

Though Mackenzie was the youngest of the group, he was the most relaxed. He didn't like Jarrett, which was obvious from the set of his mouth as he watched the man waving his napkin. But his hands rested calmly in his lap and his shoulders sat comfortably within the confines of his gold superfine. He was far more concerned with comfort than wearing the skin-tight coats fashion dictated.

When all were served and the servants gone, Jarrett looked down his long, thin nose at Mackenzie and asked in a curt voice, "What brings you to Surrey?"

Before Mackenzie could answer, Rose interjected, "Mr. Lancaster writes travel articles. He wants to write about the sites around here."

"Really?" drawled Jarrett. "I didn't know there were any sights around here. I suppose writing must be interesting if one must work for a living, though I imagine any sort of work can be rather tiresome."

A scowl twisted Mackenzie's face. "Actually, my work is quite interesting and rewarding. I would far rather do that than live the existence of an idle fop."

Jarrett let out a brief snort. "I never thought to see you again; thought you were gone forever."

Mackenzie shook his head, the corners of his mouth slid upward, and he let out the smallest of chuckles. "Sorry to disappoint you; I have returned and I want to see the will my stepfather left. If it is necessary, I will get some kind of warrant to have that safe at Tremont House forced open."

"You can't do that!" Jarrett said, slapping his hand on the table hard enough to make the silverware jump.

"I can try," Mackenzie answered, one eyebrow quirking upward.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," Rose said trying to calm them. "I'm sure we can come to some agreement and eventually we will find the combination."

Mackenzie turned his brown gaze on her and said in a low tone, "I have no intention of waiting for that special day to arrive eventually. I want this matter settled as soon as possible." He brought his hand down with a thump for emphasis.

Rose took an audible swallow and tried once again to turn the conversation to a less volatile topic. "Faith tells me she has been in Scotland. Is it very like Mr. Scott describes it, Faith?"

"No, it is damp," she answered in clipped words. "Beautiful, but damp."

"So, you keep saying; the dampness seems to be a recurring complaint from you," Rose said.

"Yes, I know," Faith said with a sigh. "I am afraid it is my strongest memory of Scotland; everything else is hazy."

It was obvious that Faith had little else to say, so Rose frantically searched her mind for another bland subject. "Tell us, Mr. Lancaster, how long were you in Italy?"

"I was there for six months. It's really quite beautiful."

Jarrett snorted. "Full of foreigners," he mumbled.

The others at the table sat wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"Actually, I do have one amusing story about my journey home. I traveled by boat instead of over land; I thought it would be a bit of an adventure. We were at the end of the journey, and had just come into the channel to dock at Southampton, when a sudden squall took hold of the ship and tossed it around like a toy.

"I am lucky in that I have never felt the least bit ill, but just about all the passengers were quite green. I have never seen anything like it!"

"Mr. Lancaster," Jarrett interrupted, "I hardly feel seasickness is a proper subject for dinner conversation."

Rose caught Faith's eye and shook her head ever so slightly.

"I have read a few of your articles, Mr. Lancaster. I found them to be very enjoyable," Faith said.

"Really, you read The Traveler?"

"Yes, I have never actually been to the continent because I have not really found a like-minded companion, but I live in hope."

Rose frowned. "I wish I could volunteer, but just the thought of crowded trains and crowded guest houses makes me feel ill."

"Tell me Rose, what part of England are you from?" Mackenzie asked.

"I'm from Brixham. It is a small town on the coast."

"When I was a child, we lived on a small estate in Paignton. I believe Brixham is the next town. Have you ever heard of Paignton?" Mackenzie asked.

"Yes, indeed! That is the next town. What an interesting coincidence," Rose answered.

"I am hoping that estate will be returned to me soon," he said turning to glare at Jarrett.

Jarrett merely sniffed and concentrated on the last of his dinner.

Toward the end of the meal Sanders and Harris returned to clear the table and serve the pudding, and when they entered, Juno and Hera followed them. The cats circled the chairs of the diners, rubbing up against them and purring. Rose, Faith, and Mackenzie all took the few scraps left on their plates to feed the begging animals. Mackenzie held the scraps in the air and made a game of having the cats jump for them.

When Juno rubbed against Jarrett's leg, he reached down and swatted the cat. An angry Juno hissed and bit the offending hand before Jarrett could snatch it back.

"Devil a bit!" he yelled and grabbed a napkin to staunch the flow of blood. "Beastly animals," he muttered in a low, angry voice. "How can you allow them in the dining room?"

Rose had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing. "I do not understand it; she has never bitten anyone. And, may I remind you that there are ladies present," she said with an arch of one eyebrow. "Faith and I do not care to listen to strong language."

"She bit in self defense: I saw Jarrett hit her," Faith announced.

"You hit her?" Rose asked wide-eyed with amazement. "Why?"

"She was pestering me," Jarrett answered, peering down his nose contemptuously. "That is not the point. The point is that these cats should not be allowed in here!"

Rose reached for Juno, and Mackenzie called to Hera so they could remove them. "Thank you," she said with a weak smile, "but Hera would never let a stranger pick her up."

Mackenzie smiled and said, "Watch." He called the cat. Hera went right to him and began to purr and rub against his leg. He scooped her up.

"I cannot believe it!" Rose exclaimed, her eyes like saucers.

Mackenzie smiled. "I seem to have a golden touch with animals; they love me. It has caused me a few moments of embarrassment, though. Once, at a party, a dog kept slobbering over my hand and would not let me leave. The owner had to come and take the dog away."

Rose and Mackenzie took the cats to the door and sent them out into the corridor, while Jarrett dabbed at the blood oozing from the punctures on his hand. He acted as though it were much more serious than a small nip. Rose expected him to dramatically cover his eyes with his hand, and faint dead away.

"I am going to return to the main house to have this cared for properly. I hope there is someone there capable of seeing to this."

"Oh yes," Rose offered. "You will find the cook most helpful. The woman is a wonder; I have seen her cure all kinds of problems."

"I hope that next time I visit, you will keep your animals well away from me, Rose. They are a menace," Jarrett said with narrowed eyes. He bid them all a chilly adieu, and left.

When the door closed behind Jarrett, Mackenzie let out a little chuckle, Faith giggled and Rose started to laugh. Mackenzie's chuckle turned into a loud guffaw, and they all laughed uproariously.

Rose was wiping a tear from her eye, when she caught herself and suddenly remembered that she wasn't sure she liked this man, and her laughter died on her lips. Once again she became stiff and cold.

Still chuckling, Mackenzie rose and said, "You ladies are ready to retire to the drawing room, are you not? I would far rather accompany you to the drawing room than be left here on my own. Shall we?" He offered an arm to each lady. Faith smiled warmly as she took his arm, but Rose was a bit reluctant.

Once they reached the drawing room, Rose and Faith crossed to the striped settee and once again Faith seemed to melt into the fabric.

"Well, what do you ladies say to some three-handed Piquet?" asked Mackenzie in his winning way.

Rose answered for both of them before Faith had a chance to speak. "I am very sorry, Mr. Lancaster, neither of us play cards. I prefer to read and Faith is never far from her sewing basket, are you dear?"

"No, never far," Faith muttered.

Unlike the formal drawing rooms in Town, this room was casual, with a few potted plants, comfortable looking over-stuffed furniture and magazines strewn across the low table in front of the settee. A table under one window held a small selection of books, a few board games, and a deck of cards. "If you never play, then why do you have these games and cards here?" Mackenzie asked looking puzzled.

"Those belonged to my late mother-in-law. She had a keen taste for competition, and my husband spent countless hours with her here playing all manner of silly card games."

Mackenzie quirked an eyebrow. "Silly, you say."

"Yes...well...I thought they were silly, indeed. Imagine a matron and her grown son getting worked up over some pieces of cardboard!" she sputtered.

Mackenzie laughed. "Don't let the members of Whites ever hear such scandalous sentiments."

"That would be impossible! I would--" She stopped suddenly and noticed the laughter in his eyes. "You are quizzing me, Mr. Lancaster. For shame." She almost chuckled.

"I remember the old earl's mother," Mackenzie said in a voice touched with wistful memory. "I spent a bit of time here with her myself. That is one of the few good memories I have of this place. It was such a relief to go off to school."

As Mackenzie spoke, Rose kept fluffing pillows and leaning over to adjust the position of a figurine in the shape of a cat, on the end table.

She picked a book of essays off the table, and opened it with a snap. Faith dug into her workbasket and drew out a design of blooming lavender destined to be a pillow filled with the herb. She had read it was a good cure for headaches.

Mackenzie shook his head and plopped down in a gold and cream wing chair that matched the settee. He picked up a copy of La Belle Assembly, and although he had very little interest in women's fashions, it was the only magazine there.

Though Rose tried to concentrate on her reading, she could feel Mackenzie's gaze upon her.

She peered over the top of her reading spectacles and spoke to him in a stern voice. "Yes, Mr. Lancaster?"

"I was just looking around," he said.

"I expect you are a very social person, and find it rather dull here," Rose said.

"On the contrary. I am not finding this dull in the least. One could never describe this evening as dull. I keep remembering the look on Jarrett's face when Juno bit him." His laughter bubbled to the surface.

"I suppose the countryside is still rather new, but I am sure you would come to find it tedious. I am lucky in that I do not like being around other people all the time, and enjoy quiet solitude." She said this with a toss of her head, as if she were proud of it.

"I understand. I too am not always around others. I do spend quite some time by myself when I write."

"Indeed," Rose said and returned her gaze to her book with a slight nod.

He winced and said, "I think I will make an early night of it. Good night, ladies."

* * *

Mackenzie reached his room to find the stale air had been replaced by freshness. A bouquet of red and yellow tulips stood on the bedside table and an open window admitted the cool spring air. The room was all greens and browns--soothing. Green and brown striped wallpaper covered the walls. A light green counterpane covered the bed with dark green velvet drapes and scatter pillows giving the room a cozy feeling.

Mackenzie sat in the rocker in front of the fire and pulled off his boots. Quite a day, he thought. He wouldn't have thought that a dried-up old man like Tremont could have won such a ripe peach as Rose. What am I thinking? People with money and rank always get what they want. He began to scowl.

Rose is a bit nervous and stiff, but I imagine that would pass away quickly enough if that awful Jarrett were out of the way. He thought of her clear, smooth skin that looked like velvet, and he suddenly yearned to run a finger over her cheek.

He had no doubt that the little she had heard about him had been quite negative. I'll be here a few days; I'm sure I can change her mind. Mackenzie had an ample supply of self-confidence.

Mackenzie shrugged out of his jacket and untied his cravat. He went to the window to pull the drapes closed, and found that he was looking out at a full moon filling the park with silvery light and shadows. He remembered a rose garden at the back of the house and knew it would be beautiful bathed in moonlight. He pulled his boots back on, grabbed his jacket, and set off down the hall.

* * *

After Mackenzie left the drawing room, Rose returned her attention to her book, but she couldn't keep her mind on the page. After reading the same paragraph three times, she closed the book and gazed off into space.

Faith saw the movement from the corner of her eye, and raised her head. "Is something troubling you?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, I was...I was thinking about dinner. Your brother did seem particularly disturbed by Mr. Lancaster's presence and Mr. Lancaster actually seemed to enjoy antagonizing him."

"You noticed it too? I thought perhaps I was imagining it. But, it was rather entertaining, was it not?" Faith said with a sly smile.

"Faith, you forget yourself. I am only allowed to have the dower house on your brother's sufferance," Rose said, her voice suddenly stern.

"But that could all change if you found the will."

Rose twisted her hands. "Yes, or we could learn that there are no provisions for me, and my hand will be forced."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, never mind. This whole thing has just overset me. First, it was the lost will, and then, there was your odious brother's behavior. Now Mr. Lancaster has appeared on the scene. I can't feel comfortable with him, knowing how he hurt Tremont."

"Perhaps you don't really know the whole story. Mr. Lancaster doesn't seem like a mean person."

Rose sighed. "You are probably right. Shall I ring for tea? I'm ready for a dish and then I'm off to my room."

"I'm ready, ring."

They had their tea and then headed toward their bedchambers. As the ladies climbed the staircase, they stopped at a window at the landing, and gazed out at the moonlit night.

"Ooh, I love this kind of night, warm and bright. I am going to take a turn around the rose garden. Would you care to come along?" Rose asked.

Faith shook her head. "No thank you. I am practically falling asleep where I stand; it has been a very long day."

"Of course," Rose said, giving her friend a quick hug. "You go off to your bed. Sleep well. Good night." Rose turned and headed back down the stairs.

A short time later, she had grabbed a warm shawl on her way out the door, and stepped into a night that almost seemed magical. The rose garden just outside the back door was awash in moonlight, and the air was filled with the scent of roses. Rose inhaled deeply, and with the suggestion of a smile on her face, started down the gravel path.

She was wandering along slowly when she rounded a corner, and ran right into Mackenzie.

She staggered backward, and he grabbed her arms to steady her. "What...oh! Mr. Lancaster! You gave me such a fright," she said, clutching at her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I noticed what a beautiful night it was, and couldn't resist a walk. And you, my lady?" he asked raising one brow.

"Same reason." She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders as if she felt a chill, but it was not the night air that sent shivers along her arms.

Mackenzie still gripped her arms and drew her closer. He moved one hand to the back of her head and danced his fingers along the back of her neck. Then, he drew one finger along her jaw line and she emitted a quiet gasp.

She knew he was going to kiss her and her mind screamed get away from this man! She could hardly believe his boldness. Yet, she found that she couldn't move or speak as if in some kind of trance. She merely closed her eyes and sighed with submission.

He covered her mouth with his and kissed her as she had never been kissed. There was nothing but the two of them, the moonlight, and the magical night. She was a little afraid, but...ooh, the warmth of his embrace, the taste of him.

Reluctantly, she gently pushed against his chest. "Mr. Lancaster," she whispered, "let me go. What has come over you?"

"Oh come now, my lady, your kiss was full of passion and those soft moans were coming from you, were they not?"

"I really do not know to what you are referring, sir. I must bid you good-night." Confused, she slowly turned, and set off toward the house, like a sleepwalker.

Chapter Three

The next morning Rose sat by herself in the cheery morning room, which faced the east and was filled with morning sunshine. Her mind was still in a jumble from the previous evening. She had spent a restless night with very little sleep. Memories of his smiling face, his gentle touch, and his devastating kiss had haunted her the night through.

She was sipping coffee and held a piece of toast aloft, as Mackenzie bounced into the room. As Rose observed his entrance, her eyebrow quirked upward. "You are very enthusiastic for so early in the morning," she observed, thinking that he didn't look like he had had any trouble sleeping at all.

"Best time of the day! I plan to start touring the area this morning." Mackenzie stopped at the large oak sideboard, poured himself a cup of coffee and filled a plate with scrambled eggs, sausages, and grilled tomatoes. He filled his lungs with the rich aroma and said, "This smells heavenly."

"I am sure it does; I just find it all a bit much this early in the day," she said.

Mackenzie carried the over-filled plate and cup of coffee to the table, set everything down and dropped into the chair.

She peered with squinted eyes over the rim of her cup. "I am afraid I have never felt that enthusiastic about the morning."

Mackenzie dug into his pile of food. His fork paused in midair, he stopped and said, "Well, I suppose there are good arguments in favor of getting up late and staying up most of the night, but I just can't think of any right at the moment."

Rose knew from experience, she could never explain the peace and solitude that were hers when everyone else in the house was asleep. She was sure that he was thinking about the meeting in the rose garden as much as she was, but it seemed they were both reluctant to bring it up. It was like a great elephant sitting in the corner of the room--difficult to ignore.

Instead she said, "Well, I do hope you will find lots of interesting things about which to write in Guildford." As she finished the sentence, she chided herself, could I be anymore inane?

"I am sure I will."

At that moment, Faith came into the room. "Good morning. It is such a beautiful day and I slept so well," she said, stretching her arms. "I feel like I have been asleep for a few days. Ah, the country air!" She moved to the sideboard filled a plate, poured a dish of tea and sat down.

Rose looked askance at her friend's full plate. "You obviously agree with Mr. Lancaster when it comes to a large breakfast."

Faith glanced at his plate, and chuckled. "I guess I do."

"Did you enjoy your walk in the moonlight, Rose?" she asked.

Rose shot a quick look at Mackenzie and saw that he was looking at her with a sly smile. She quickly looked down at her plate, and answered, "Y-yes, it was quite lovely."

"By the way," he said, his lips curling in a smile, "I must tell you, I thought your cat did very well last night. It is most entertaining to remember the stricken look on Jarrett's face when Juno bit him."

Rose shook her head. She tried to maintain a straight face, but felt the ends of her mouth curl upward.

"It was rather surprising to see Juno do such a thing, and I am sure Jarrett does not think it well done at all."

Mackenzie finished off his last bite of food, drained his coffee cup, and stood. "I'm off to Guildford. Is there anything you would like me to pick up for either of you?"

They both said they couldn't think of anything, wished him a pleasant day, and he was gone.

After he left, Faith said, "The atmosphere was rather tense when I arrived. Is there some problem?"

Unwilling to talk about the night before, Rose just mentioned her initial misgivings. "Not really. I just find it difficult to forget that he caused Tremont some unhappiness."

"Well, I thought you said he didn't talk about Mr. Lancaster much, so you don't really know the whole story. I am sure if you listened to his side, it would be rather different."

"I suppose you are right," Rose said with a sigh.

* * *

Early that afternoon, shortly after enjoying a light nuncheon, Rose and Faith sat on the settee in the drawing room, exactly as they had been the previous evening. It was as if they had not moved all night. Sanders knocked and showed Jarrett into the sunny room.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said in his piercing voice as he minced toward them. "My dear sister, I wish to have a private conversation with Rose. Surely you wouldn't mind leaving us alone for a while."

"No, I do not mind," she said, shooting a look of sympathy at Rose. Faith gathered her sewing, stood, and left as Jarrett took a seat in the wing chair opposite the settee.

Rose sniffed. "I gather that was really necessary. Faith is my best friend; I keep no secrets from her."

"I felt this to be a private matter. I am considering leaving Caldwell Place and taking up residence at Tremont House. Therefore, I would like you to come to town and pack up your personal belongings."

"You are?" she said wide-eyed with surprise. "You are going to leave your mother?"

Deep creases furrowed his brow. "Indeed. I am hoping that you will decide to accept my offer." He smiled his most oily smile. "Then, of course, there will be no need to remove your things."

"No, I am sorry, I am still thinking about it. You will give me a bit longer, will you not?" I could think about it for the rest of my life and never accept. She shook her head. Never, never.

"Yes, I can give you a bit more time, but I would like you to come to Town and make a start at Tremont House, in case you decide to refuse my offer." This was delivered in Jarrett's most chilling voice. It made Rose cringe inwardly, but she managed to maintain a straight face.

"I will make arrangements to go to London next week to take care of my things at Tremont House. Perhaps your sister will come with me."

"I am sure she will, she would not want to be stuck out here in the country alone."

"Alone? Will you not be remaining at Beechwood?"

"No, no. I only came to escort Faith and ask you to come to London. I do not really care much for the country. I cannot imagine why you like it so much," he said with a sniff.

Rose watched him through narrowed eyes, as she wondered about how this city-person could have taken her beloved home.

"May I ask what you plan to do about Mr. Lancaster's request? Have you changed your mind about having the safe broken into?"

"Indeed not. I am sure the combination will turn up sometime. In the meantime, he will just have to wait."

Rose raised one eyebrow. "He doesn't strike me as the kind of person who waits patiently."

"Too bad for him," Jarrett said, getting to his feet. "I plan to have you and my sister to Beechwood one night for dinner, but I am afraid it can't be the next few nights; I have plans. Shall we make it Sunday evening?"

Rose raised one brow. "You are not including Mr. Lancaster in your invitation?"

Jarrett stuck his nose into the air. "No, I think not, I don't like the man over much."

"Rag-mannered," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing." Rose let out a small sigh of relief as she walked him to the door.

"Good day my lord, I will send you a note to let you know when I have decided when I can be ready to leave for London."

"Good, I will be happy to accompany you," he said and left.

Oh joy, she thought managing not to wince.

At that moment Faith entered the foyer and saw Rose leaning against the closed door. "Is he gone already? I was hoping to pick his brain a bit; I'm curious about his plans. I cannot believe he is going to spend much time down here. I think it was rather mean to make you move out of the big house."

"Mean is too kind a word. I think despicable would be more apropos. Now, he wants me to remove my personal belongings from Tremont House."

"No, really? I always think my opinion of him is as low as it can be, then I hear something to make it sink further."

* * *

Later that day, Rose sat in a garden at the side of the house in front of a small easel she had set up. She enjoyed painting watercolors, though her work was only, in her opinion, mediocre. Growing up with a brother who was such a talented painter had been a little daunting. Still, she was able to accept that her work could never be as good as Ash's. Though she lacked skill, she had plenty of enthusiasm, and her painting brought her a great deal of pleasure.

It was a windy day, and the clouds raced across the sky; she hoped the wind would not be a problem. She sat at the end of the garden where the manicured lawn gave way to a row of Beech trees standing beside a stone wall at the edge of the property. The wall was covered with wild rose vines that were full of spring buds, and there were even a few blossoms.

She sat in a sunny spot and it was warm enough not to worry about a shawl. Rose was trying to paint a picture of the stone wall with its vines, and was having trouble with her colors. Somehow, it just did not look realistic.

She was so totally absorbed in mixing her colors that she didn't hear the sound of a horse approaching.

On the other side of the wall was the road to Guildford that Mackenzie had taken earlier that day. He rounded a corner on his way back from his sightseeing, and when Rose came into sight, he waved and called out, "Hello there!" Her head shot upward and her expression became tight and pinched. I forgot he would be returning from Guildford along that road. Drat! I hope he does not stop.

Her wish was not to be granted. Mackenzie's horse easily jumped the stone wall and he came to a stop about ten feet in front of Rose. He hopped down from his horse and began to walk toward her. Rose jumped to her feet and stood in front of the easel, blocking her work.

"I am sorry Mr. Lancaster, but I never show my work to anyone." He took another step toward her. "No, no," she said waving her hands.

At that instant a strong gust of wind grabbed the painting, tossed it into the air, and then plastered it onto Mackenzie's chest. He looked down with eyes wide with amazement. The corners of his mouth turned upwards. The sticky canvas fell to the ground with a plop. "Well, there is no danger of anyone ever seeing that painting," he said and laughed.

An embarrassed Rose retrieved the ruined canvas, and she tried to wipe some of the wet paint off the front of his jacket with a rag. It only made the smear worse. "This is terrible," she said, dabbing at the sticky paint. "I am so sorry, I will buy you a new jacket."

"Please do not worry about it," he said with a wry chuckle. He reached out and lifted her hand away from the jacket. The touch of his hand sent an electric shock up her arm. What is happening to me? she wondered.

"This is an old jacket," he continued with a smile. "I was thinking about getting a new one anyway."

"Then you must let me pay for it."

"Really, there is no need. Besides, I know your financial situation is somewhat...ah...tenuous." He shrugged out of the jacket, folded it with the wet paint on the inside and draped it over his saddle.

Rose busied herself with putting her paints away, cleaning her brushes, and folding up her easel. The short time it took gave her a few minutes to compose herself. When she finished, Mackenzie reached for the easel saying, "Let me tie this to my saddle and I will walk back to the house with you."

"Please do not trouble yourself, Mr. Lancaster, it is not a long walk."

Mackenzie smiled. "I assure you, it is no trouble. I would enjoy the company. Here, give me your equipment." She handed him her easel, paint box, and folding stool and he tied them to his saddle.

"This is quite a load. Surely you didn't carry this all out here."

"Oh no, one of the grooms brings me out here in the dog cart and then comes to collect me in a few hours."

As they began to walk toward the house, he bestowed one of his more charming grins upon her and said, "My dear stepmother, I know nothing about you. How did you meet my stepfather?"

"Mr. Lancaster, could we not dispense with the term stepmother? It makes me sound like an old crone."

"Surely. What would you like me to call you?"

Rose chewed on her lower lip as she thought, then nodded her head with decision. "I think you should call me Rose."

Mackenzie grinned. "I would be delighted to. You must call me Mackenzie. How did you meet my stepfather?"

"I was visiting Faith. We had been friends at school and then shared a few unsuccessful seasons. My family was afraid I would never marry."

"Please don't think me forward, but I find that hard to believe; you are beautiful."

Rose smiled. "I am afraid it takes a bit more than that. I think I appeared not quite biddable enough.

"I was spending the Easter holiday with Faith at Caldwell Place. I met the late earl at a soiree hosted by the Caldwells. He was lonely and wanted company. My family was plump in the pockets in those days."

"In those days?" Mackenzie prompted.

"Yes." She allowed a bit of wistfulness to creep into her voice. "As I mentioned, we had an estate in Devon and a townhouse in London. A few years after I married the earl, my father made some very bad investments and lost almost everything. The shock killed him; his heart gave out. My poor mother was left practically destitute.

"Luckily by then, my brother had begun to have some success painting portraits for the wealthy. My brother was able to sell the estate and he and my mother live in a townhouse in Blandford Place near Regent's Park."

"I imagine that means that you could hardly turn to your mother with your current financial problems."

"Exactly," she said with a frown. "My options are rather limited."

"What about your brother? I'm sure he would help."

Rose sucked on her lower lip. "I am sure he would, but I hate to ask. He is already supporting our mother."

"Well, cheer up," he said, flashing a grin. "One never knows what the future holds. So, to return to my original question, how did you end up married to the earl?"

"He was looking for companionship and I was anxious to become unavailable. Jarrett was paying a lot of attention to me and I thought the best way to avoid that attention was to marry someone else."

"Rather a strong measure."

"Strong, but necessary. Jarrett was heir to an earldom and my father wanted me to have a title. I just cut out the middleman and went straight to the source." She let out a hollow laugh.

"Then, you are saying you married for convenience, not love."

"That is often the case. I suppose one should not allow love to interfere with the making of matches." She stared off into the distance and let a heartfelt sigh escape.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked, raising one eyebrow in a questioning slant. "I guess I'm a romantic. I choose to believe in the tender feelings of which the poets speak. I have never been in love myself, but I hope that if I ever do marry, love will be the reason."

"I wish you luck, Mackenzie."

"You don't sound very convinced. You are still a young woman. How old are you?"

She gave him a coy smile. "Now Mackenzie, you know a woman is taught never to reveal her age."

"Well, I know you are not some green girl in the midst of her first season, but you are hardly at your last prayers.

"Do you see only a quiet life of widowhood living off the good graces of the dastardly Jarrett ahead? That's a bit grim."

His words stung. She tossed her head. "Yes, well, that is the way it is."

"My trip to Guildford was a great success. I plan to spend one more day there, and then I will have enough for an article."

"I noticed that you have no saddlebags. I don't understand why you don't have a notebook with you. Surely you need to take notes about the sights you see."

"I have a small notebook in my pocket," he said. "But I don't take a lot of notes. I try to absorb the feelings a place engenders and then I write about it. One can find a simple guidebook in any bookstore, but I try to give the reader a feeling of what it is like to actually visit a place."

"That is a novel approach. Do you find it to be successful?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes, people seem to like it." He caught a glimpse of her painting equipment strapped to his horse and said, "I have just had a wonderful idea."

"The high street was more picturesque than I had imagined, and so steep. I cannot draw, but you can; you could do a drawing. It would make a wonderful illustration to go with my article. I know my publisher would be delighted."

Rose frowned and shook her head. "I am afraid I am not nearly confident enough to have my work appear in a magazine. I told you I never show my work to anyone."

Mackenzie shook his head. "I just don't think that is right. What do you think the world would be like if all artists refused to show their work to the public?"

Rose walked along biting her lower lip. "I have never thought of it in that way. The world would be rather a colorless place." She thought for a few moments, and then nodded as she came to a decision. "Perhaps I could consider it."

One of Mackenzie's special grins lighted his face. "That is what I want to hear. Please say you will do a sketch for my article."

"W-well...I do not know."

"Please say yes," he cajoled. His smile was becoming impossible for Rose to resist.

"Yes, I will do it, but how are we going to do this?"

"Is there an open style carriage here?"

"Yes, there is a landau, but though it is rather ancient, I am sure we can use it."

"As long as we can get to town, it should be fine. I propose we go Saturday morning, and we could ask Faith to join us. If you do meet someone you know, there will be no question of propriety."

"Believe me, that is the least of my worries."

"We can park the carriage at the bottom of the high street and position it so that you can do your sketching from there."

Rose sucked on her lower lip as she thought. "There is a park at the bottom of the high street. We could park there and not attract too much attention."

"That settles it; Saturday morning it is."

As they walked along, Rose stumbled and Mackenzie grabbed her arm to steady her. She felt another faint jolt pass through her and quickly glanced up at him. The look in his eyes told her that he had felt it too.

* * *

Dinner that night was far more enjoyable without Jarrett's presence; it was casual, and much less tense.

"I walked up to Beechwood this afternoon," Faith said.

"You voluntarily went to see Jarrett?" Rose asked looking surprised.

"Yes, I told you I wanted to see what I could discover of his plans."

"And what did you learn?"

"Not much other than that he is going to return to town with us next week," Faith said with a frown.

"Mackenzie, Jarrett is anxious for me to come to London and to remove my personal belongings from Tremont Place," Rose said. "I will be leaving for London in a few days."

"Really? I thought he had another townhouse in Hanover Square."

"Yes, that is where my parents lived for many years," Faith said. "We grew up there. We always lived in Town; my mother cannot stand the country. There is not nearly enough gossip to keep her busy." She rolled her eyes.

"Now that Father is gone, it belongs to Jarrett, but Mother still lives there. He talks about moving to Tremont House, but I really cannot imagine those two living under separate roofs."

"It seems rather mean-spirited to make Rose move out, does it not?" Mackenzie asked.

"That's my brother, mean-spirited to the core," Faith said frowning.

"There is not much I can do except submit," Rose said with a sigh. "You will stay with me when we reach London, will you not, Faith?"

"I will be happy to stay with you. Any opportunity to avoid my mother and brother is more than welcome."

"I have not been to Town since the earl died. I know the townhouse will seem rather empty and I will be most grateful for your company.

"And you Mackenzie," Rose asked turning to him, "will you have enough material for your article by Monday?"

"Yes indeed. One more day in Guildford should do it. Rose has agreed to accompany me to Guildford and make a sketch of the high street to go with my article. Please say you will join us," said Mackenzie turning to Faith.

"Thank you, I would love to come to Guildford with you. Rose, does this mean you are actually going to show your work?" Faith asked with a smile lighting her face.

"Yes, Mackenzie has convinced me that I should."

"Bravo, sir," said Faith. "I have been trying to convince her for twenty years and have never succeeded."

Rose told Faith how they planned to park at the bottom of the high street so Rose could sketch from the open carriage.

"And what do you want me to do?"

"You need merely keep me company in the carriage, so that no one can claim that it is improper for a woman to be sitting by herself in an open carriage."

Faith furrowed her brow. "Of course I will be happy to come along, but I can't imagine that anyone would think it improper."

"We are going to start out for London on Monday morning. Jarrett is to pick us up in the traveling carriage at ten of the clock."

"Fine," said Mackenzie. "I will ride beside you and when you have had quite enough of his boring conversation, you have but to reach out the window and signal me. I will think of an excuse for the coachman to stop, so you can step out for a moment and escape his infernal blathering."

Mackenzie chuckled.

To order or learn more!