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Mitchell Winston Prescott, 4th Earl of Rockford, stood on the deck of the great ship with a telescope glued to his eye, legs spread and the toes of his bare feet curled as if to grip the deck in an effort to balance himself, although there was no need. The ship was as steady as if he were walking on land. He was searching the sky for clouds. The waters surrounding the ship looked like gray-green glass. The staunch stand and the calm that his lordship displayed were completely misleading. He was seething. The ship had been becalmed for four days and he knew there were people waiting at the small dock town of Plymouth to greet the newest Earl of Rockford.

He searched in vain for even the semblance of a cloud.

Sailors had tied up all the ropes, scrubbed and polished every piece of brass on the ship as well as the deck until it looked like a fine dance floor. They had scoured all of the staterooms as clean as the Queen's parlor.

He shifted a little to look in another direction. Nothing! With a sigh he lowered the glass. Lucias Riley, his long time friend, was coming from the cabin they had shared on this long voyage. "What in the world is he doing?" Mitchell asked himself.

Riley, which was the name he preferred to be called, was mincing along on the tip of his toes with his left hand resting at the waist and his right one extended as he walked. He made his skinny hips sway from side to side as he came up to Mitchell.

"La, Lord Rockford. I'm so glad to make your acquaintance. You may kiss my hand and then we will have a spot of tea." He giggled in an awful imitation of a giddy chit. "I understand you have just come from the wilds of Canada where I'm sure you made a fortune. La, my lord. That is above all things wonderful."

As Riley approached he kept his face pinched up in a silly smile and his hand outstretched. Mitchell narrowed his eyes in a look that should have warned his friend to move as far away as possible, but Riley was so intent on his tom-foolery that he was not paying attention. Without thinking about what he was doing Mitchell grabbed Riley, lifted him over his head and tossed him overboard.

Mitchell watched as Riley struggled and then remembered his best friend and partner couldn't swim a stroke. "By God. I don't want to kill the ninnyhammer," he yelled. Then he roared, "Man overboard, man overboard." He sailed over the side of the ship. His body hit the water with a deal of force and he went very deep before he could surface. He looked around to see where Riley was and spied him flailing around several yards away. He closed the distance with several powerful strokes and grabbed his friend's collar. Riley didn't realize help was at hand and kept flailing so that they were both in danger of going under. Mitchell wrapped his arms around Riley and treaded water until his friend calmed down. The rope ladder had been lowered and hands stretched out for the men when they reached the bottom rung. The sailors relieved Mitchell of Riley and hoisted him on deck. He climbed up quickly, anxious for the welfare of his partner and good friend, deriding himself for allowing his temper to go out of control.

Knocking the sailors out of his way, he bent over Riley, and turned him over to be sure all the water was expelled. "Hey, Riley. Wake up. You son-of-Old Nick. Wake up you--." Before he could go further, Riley opened his eyes, squinted into the sun and then focused on Mitchell's face. "Don't ridicule my parentage, you--you, LORD."

"Now, that hurt. I think I'll just throw you back into the drink and leave you there."

"You know you need to learn to swim."

"Yeah, I know and I've tried. I just can't seem to get the hang of it. Why'd you toss me overboard? I was just trying to have a little fun. Devilishly dull sitting in the water like this and not being able to move."

"You just caught me at exactly the wrong moment. I was searching for clouds and thinking how I hate having to deal with this cursed title. Life was just fine before that letter came. I have my fortune made and now that I can enjoy it I find some hapless relative died and left me a title. Damn. I hate the idea."

"I know, and I'm sorry I was making light of your predicament."

Mitchell reached a hand down and pulled Riley to his feet. "Let's have old Doc take a look at you. Friends?"

For answer Riley rested his arm across his friend's shoulder and let him lead him below deck. They made their way to the small dining hall and found the doctor and the captain playing cards. Neither looked up as the pair approached until Mitchell called their attention to himself and Riley in none too polite terms.

The captain looked up and then saw the dripping pair making a mess of the newly cleaned and polished floor. He frowned as though he were about to order them out of the room like a couple of wayward children, but thought better of it, remembering they owned the ship, after all.

Mitchell cast a gimlet-eye at the captain which effectively stopped any comment he was going to utter.

The doctor lumbered to his feet and appraised the two men with a blurry look that was witness to his being a trifle foxed.

"I need to know what happened here so I can know how to proceed," the doctor said.

Mitchell told him they were scuffling and Riley had fallen overboard. No need to bandy about that the owners of the ship were getting into the fidgets because of the unplanned delay in their arrival.

The doctor suggested they both be cupped to ward off a congestion from their exposure to the cold water. They both declined that treatment, vehemently.

"Well if you won't let me cup you I'd suggest you get into dry clothes and go to bed. I don't have many ways to treat an inflammation of the lungs."

The two men were soon comfortably ensconced in their stateroom, each with a glass of whisky. They sat and looked at each other for a few minutes and as though some great joke had just been told, burst into guffaws. They were soon so overcome by laughter they forgot about the becalmed ship and their distaste for what the immediate future promised.

That night they were awakened from a sound sleep when the ship began to buck and roll. They sat up and whooped for joy, "At last we're going to get moving."

* * *

They arrived the next evening five days late and were greeted by an anxious solicitor who took them up in a luxurious carriage with the Rockford crest emblazoned on its sides.

"I want to get it over with so I can get on with more important things. Make haste, man," Mitchell said to the little lawyer.

"I can't fathom anything more important," said the solicitor. "You have just come into a very honored and coveted title, not to mention a deal of valuable estates. "

"Oh, you mean there is property involved?"

"Indeed. Extensive holdings."

"Sounds a little more interesting. Let's go, man."

* * *

Alanna acknowledged the footman's message that her father and mother wanted to see her in the library. Oh, oh, something serious or we wouldn't be meeting in the library.

She changed from the frumpy old gray gown she had been wearing while digging in the garden and quickly made her way to the library. Her father was the dearest of men, but he had a thing about being kept waiting for any length of time, by anyone, and he certainly didn't tolerate it in his children.

"You wanted to see me Papa, Mama?"

"Yes, dear. Sit down a minute so we can have a comfortable coze," said her mother.

Alanna eyed her father and mother suspiciously. What were they going to spring on her now? she asked herself. They were always trying to solve the problem of their beloved only daughter. She was nineteen years old, and as far as they knew had never given marriage serious consideration, even after an expensive season in London. They just could not believe she would rather stay at home and work on establishing a free school for the village children, and some of the farmers' youngsters, than find a husband.

"What is going on, Mama? You both look so serious. Has Quinlin gotten into difficulty again? I declare he can cause more problems than any fourteen year old has any right to do. Although I am convinced most fourteen year old boys must be a sight of trouble."

"You will not have to drag him out of a plight this time, dear. He is at his lessons with the vicar."

Lord Whinster harrumphed a couple of times and then said, "We've had an offer for your hand. I gave the gent permission to pay his address. He is to be here in about thirty minutes. I wish you would change into something more becoming before he arrives." He looked at his tall daughter and a little sigh escaped his lips. He turned to his wife and muttered. "Why couldn't she take after your side of the family instead of mine?"

It was a lament Alanna had heard before. She was tall like her father while her two brothers were the image of their mother--short and stocky with pale blonde hair.

"Sir Anthony Hogg has asked to pay his address. You know that he is well off with a handsome home. I want you to give his offer serious consideration."

Alanna jumped up and confronted her parents with a fury they hadn't witnessed since her brother Purcell had dropped a frog down her back.

"Let me understand this. You want me to consider that parvenu as husband material. The only reason he is a "Sir" is because he bought the title from one of the royal dukes."

"No one knows that for sure," her father said.

"He has four bratty kids and all he wants me for is to raise them, while he beds every light-skirt in the area and seduces unsuspecting maids."

"That is no way for a lady to talk," her father said with a frown. "You are not even supposed to know about such things, and you certainly mustn't talk about them."

"But you want to work with children, dear," her mother said in a rather timid voice, as she looked up at her Amazon-like daughter. "You have always been the best of daughters, and your father and I only want what we feel is best for you."

"I want to work with children that need me. I want to educate the children in the village so they will have some way of finding work and not have to turn to crime or go into the coal mines. I don't want to raise someone's rich, spoiled brats."

"That sounds rather harsh, Alanna," her father chided. "They are, after all, just children."

"You don't really expect me to take this offer seriously, do you?"

"I think you will have to see him, since I have given him permission to call," Lord Fairchild said. "Now go change your clothes. Even if you have no intention of accepting his offer you must not shame your mother by dressing improperly."

Alanna sighed in relief. Her mama and papa weren't going to force her into anything. She would dispatch Sir Anthony Hogg before the cat could lick her ear.

She changed into another gown, one that was made of silk, though she didn't think it was any more becoming than the one she had been wearing. However, she had followed orders and changed, so she felt satisfied with herself. She made her way slowly to the parlor where her mother was offering cakes and tea to Sir Anthony.

Alanna didn't say a word, but waited for one of them to start a conversation. Her mother poured Alanna a cup of tea and indicated that she was to sit in a chair opposite Sir Anthony and then said, "Alanna, Sir Anthony has something to speak with you about. I'll just go back to the library, but if you need me please send Davies."

"Very well, Mama."

She turned and looked at the man who had come to offer her his name and all the dubious pleasures accompanying that honor. Finally she said, "You wanted to speak to me, sir?"

He lumbered to his feet and shuffled over in front of her. "Surely your father told you I have his permission to pay my address."

Alanna watched in fascination as his eyes bulged out and his jaw seemed to work overtime to frame the words. She had to suppress a giggle thinking he looked exactly like his name. A big hog. As a matter of fact he didn't smell much better than a hog. A different smell, but just as obnoxious. He evidently didn't embrace Brummel's theory on the value of bathing every day, probably not even every month.

"I'm a wealthy man, my dear and I have a fine estate. I can offer you a good home and see that you never want for anything."

"I doubt that I'll ever want for anything as it is, sir. My father has provided for me very well."

"But you wouldn't have your own home. I can offer you that--and even children of your own. I have four by my first wife and there's no reason to believe that with a strapping young wife like you, I can't have many more. You appear uniquely suited to bearing children. It's the tiny little women who have difficulties."

"Sir-rah, do you think this a fitting conversation? I haven't even indicated any intention of marrying you. In fact I'm quite convinced we won't suit. I do thank you for the honor, though."

Sir Anthony looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you decline my offer?"

"I'm afraid so. I just don't think we could ever suit."

"I may be the only chance you have. You are a Long Meg who is going to ask a big overgrown girl with red hair like you to marry them?"

"There is no call to insult me. You may go, sir." Alanna jumped up from the couch and tugged at the pull to summon Davies. "You may show Sir Anthony out."

Sir Anthony didn't take defeat graciously and called back, "You may yet find I'm a good catch. Wait and see."

Alanna did not think it necessary to answer him. As soon as she heard he was gone she made her way to the library where she found her mother and father discussing some financial matter.

"I know very well I'll never marry that odious creature. How could you give him permission to ask me, Papa?"

"I thought it should be your decision. You really do need to marry, my dear."

"Yes," said her mother. "We must go to London for another season, I believe."

"I think it is a hopeless cause and a waste of money." Alanna said. "I do not think anyone is going to want to marry me." She bit on her full under lip and then continued. "I intend to establish a school and devote my life to education. Why in the world do I need a London season? I do not, that is sure," she said, feeling her protest was completely futile.

"Yes, you do!" said her father. "I want you to marry well. I won't be at ease about you until you marry an eligible gentleman."

"No one who is well off and titled is going to marry me. Sir Anthony called me a Long Meg and has the right of it. Look at me," she gestured down her body indicating her height.

"But, my dear, you are as lovely as can stare," said her mother. "You have a beautiful face and glorious hair."

"Oh, Mama. You love me so much you can't see how others look at me."

"Nevertheless your mother and I insist you go for another season," said the Viscount.

Alanna sighed a big, audible sigh and reluctantly agreed to give it one more try.

"Very well, my dear. We'll start making plans right away."

She turned and listlessly made her way up the stairs--stairs which she often covered two at a time. Another embarrassing season! I was so hoping they would simply admit that I will never win the attention of an eligible gentleman.

Never would she admit to her dream of falling in love and being loved in return by an adoring, handsome young man. She heaved a big sigh as she opened the door to her room.

"I guess I really will have to dedicate my life to creating a school for underprivileged children, but I would like to have a choice," she said to the room at large.

* * *

"Wouldn't we have made better time if we had gone around rather than right straight through town?" Mitchell asked, as he gazed at the snail-paced traffic they were weaving through.

"No, m'lord. This is the only truly navigable street. The rest are narrow and steep and take hours to negotiate."

"Very well, then. I suppose we'll just have to trust your judgment since it has been so many years since we were here."

"Thank you, m'lord."

"I am not accustomed to being called 'my lord'. Would you like to call me by my name, which is Mitchell, or Mitch to my friends?"

"Oh, no sir. I could not do so, m'lord. That would not be a fitting thing for me to do at all. Oh, no! I just couldn't." Mitchell looked at Riley out of the corner of his eye and raised a brow in a speaking look. So it has begun. I'll probably get sick and tired of being treated like one of the diamond squad before I go back to really living my life.

"Very well," he said to the nervous little man. "If it makes you uncomfortable do as you wish."

A couple of hours later and only a few miles beyond Plymouth they stopped at a respectable looking inn with the ostentatious name of The Silver Plume. Some coins exchanged hands and they were soon shown to the best rooms in the place with a private parlor. Not that Mitchell or Riley cared about a private parlor, but Mr. Miles declared it below Lord Rockford's consequence to eat in a public room. His insistence on how important Mitchell was amused the young men.

"I hope I never get to feeling as important as he thinks I am," Mitchell said. "I would soon become very difficult to get along with."

"Oh, I don't know. I might think of a way to set you back a little if I tried," Riley said.

Mitchell narrowed his eyes and said, "Don't think about it."

They emerged the next morning looking clean and polished in attire that was more suitable to present society though not in the first stare of fashion. Riley had shaved his beard, but Mitchell had only trimmed his. His sun-darkened skin, steely blue eyes, black hair and beard created a look that was dashing and dangerous. The fact that he was a very large man with broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs had young women casting inviting looks at him.

They arrived in London five days later extremely weary of the confinement of the coach, no matter how well appointed it was. To Mitchell's surprise they pulled up in front of a fashionable town house of very generous proportions. Every light in the house seemed to be burning and the lights cast a charming glow out the numerous windows.

The front door burst open and a liveried footman came quickly down the stairs, opened the door of the carriage, and let the steps down.

"This is Lord Rockford, Wolfe," said Mr. Miles.

"Welcome home, m'lord. We have been waiting for you for days. So glad you are finally safely here."

"Thank you, Wolfe," Mitchell said, trying to seem friendly, but not too much so, sensing that he had much to learn about these new servants, who were much more formal than the crew he kept in Canada.

Mr. Miles led the way to the front door and introduced him to the starchy butler, "This is Sawyer. He has been butler to Rockford for twenty-five years."

The butler bowed stiffly and said, "I expect you would like to go to your room before you meet the rest of the staff. Dinner will be ready when you wish to eat, m'lord."

"This is my friend Riley, who will be staying with me. He will need a room also." Now why did this stiff-rumped butler make him feel like an imposter? He had directed men ever since he was a grown man himself, and no one had ever managed to intimidate him, but the way Sawyer looked down his nose made him feel like he was ten years old and had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The butler raised his hand a little and another footman appeared. There was no verbal communication between them but the footman said, "This way, m'lord."

They followed the footman to the second floor where Mitchell was shown to a large, luxurious room with an enormous bed in the middle. An oversized chest lined one wall and two chairs were comfortably placed on either side of a fire place which had a cheery fire in it making the room warmer than Mitchell liked. Off the bedroom was a sitting room with a desk and another fireplace with a couch drawn up in front of it. Scattered about the room were various small tables which needed to be explored to discern their function.

It was different, but no more ostentatious than his house in Canada. He had not been hesitant to spend his money on a fine home and beautiful furnishings, but somehow this formal house did not feel like home.

"I hope you will find everything you need, m'lord," said the servant. "Just pull this cord if you want anything."

"I don't need to pull the cord. After you have shown my friend to his rooms I want a bath brought up."

"Very well, m'lord."

Mitchell had his bath and went jauntily down the stairs an hour later, thinking the title was becoming more interesting since it included this nice property. As he entered the hall the butler approached him and held out a small silver salver with a piece of paper on it. He took the paper and read the note. It was from Mr. Miles advising him that he would call upon him tomorrow to discuss his inheritance and all of its legal aspects.

"Will you direct me to the library, Sawyer? I need to write a note to Mr. Miles."

"This way, m'lord." The butler held the door open and waited for Mitchell to go inside and then asked, "Is there anything else, m'lord?"

"I presume there is writing material in that desk." He indicated a large, ornate desk that was placed at right angles to double doors which opened into a perfectly manicured garden.

"Yes, m'lord. Do you want the note delivered tonight?"

"Yes, if it isn't too late."

"No, m'lord."

He dispatched a short note telling the solicitor that he would be unavailable the next day, but would look for him the day after that in the morning around 10:00 of the o'clock.

Riley sauntered in just as Mitchell was finishing with the note and looked around the room which was lined with book shelves that contained hundreds of handsome, leather bound volumes. "You didn't just inherit a title, my friend. This is very impressive. I wonder if there is any money that goes with all of this?"

"I won't know until day after tomorrow. I'm going to see my Aunt Cicely tomorrow. It's been ten years and she must have over fifty years in her dish by now. I wrote to her before we left and I expect she is waiting anxiously."

"Very likely. I think I'll see if London has changed much over the last several years. I haven't been gone quite as long as you, but it has been quite a while."

"Do you have any people here? I can't remember you saying."

"My folks died of the pox when I was just a lad. I was raised by an uncle who saw to my education, but that is as far as it went. There was no love between us. I don't know if he is still alive. Even if he is, he doesn't live in London."

Their conversation was interrupted by Sawyer announcing that dinner was served. He showed them the way to an enormous room with a long table in the middle. It could have served thirty people without crowding anyone. Their dinner settings were placed at either end of the table. The two young men looked at each other with identical foolish expressions and then burst into laughter. The two footmen who were waiting to serve them looked at each other with puzzled eyes.

After Mitchell could control himself he asked, "Is this the only dining area in this house?"

"No, m'lord. There is a small dining area, which is usually used as a breakfast room, just off the withdrawing room."

"Put these table settings at one end of the table and do not serve a meal to my friend and me in this room unless or until I say otherwise. Please serve us in the breakfast room from now on."

"Yes, m'lord," he answered with an upward tilt of his nose.

Mitchell thought, I am going to have to lay down a few rules and if these starchy servants do not wish to abide by them, I expect I will have to hire new people. The following day he came downstairs feeling rested and eager to see his aunt. Since he had not been shown around the property as of yet he had no idea what vehicles were available.

"Do I have a carriage, Sawyer?"

"Yes, m'lord. Do you want it brought around?"

He earned disapproval from the butler by telling him he would go around to the mews himself and see what was available. He thought he heard a disapproving sniff, but choose to ignore it at this time.

The stables were in perfect order just as the house was, and Mitchell was satisfied with the availability of conveyances as well as some sweet goers for saddle horses.

He soon arrived at his aunt's house which was located in a respectable, if not fashionable, part of London. He took the steep front steps two at a time and banged the knocker vigorously. A butler came to the door who was almost a duplicate of Sawyer in demeanor, if not looks. This butler was short and fat and looked to be about ready to burst out of his clothes. I wonder if Aunt Cicely has come on bad times. She used to be so careful of the way her servants looked.

He was shown into a small but charming parlor decorated eclectically. Some of the furniture had obviously been in the house for years, but interspersed among the older furnishings were a few items of the Chinese and Egyptian design which had taken England by storm. He prepared himself to be shocked at the deterioration of his beloved kinswoman. He was shocked all right, but not because of her decline.

He was greeted by a tall woman dressed in a bright blue morning dress of lutestring. On her head was a tiny cap that fit snugly onto her dark brown curls. She moved fluidly with grace and assurance, to stand in front of him.

"Mitchell, my dear boy. How are you? I have been expecting you for days."

"I know. Our ship was becalmed only a few knots from Plymouth.

"I am so thrilled to have you here."

"And I am delighted to see you looking so well. I rather expected to find you ensconced on the chaise lounge and giving into the megrims."

"Now why ever would you think a thing like that?"

"We-l-l. I have been gone for over ten years."

"You thought I was already an old lady?"

"Something like that."

"As you can see, I am feeling fine and expect to spend a few more years enjoying life. And now I have an earl for a nephew. Wonderful!"

"I don't know much about the title yet. I just know it is a big nuisance. I was doing just fine without it. I am feeling a little better about it since it seems I have inherited a very nice town house."

His aunt Cicely looked stunned and then she chuckled. "A big nuisance is it? You do not have any idea of what you have inherited, do you?"

"I know I inherited the title from a distant cousin. It seems strange to me that I am the last of the Rockfords. Surely they could have found a nearer relative to take the title. I may just let the crown have it back. I really do not want to be bothered with it."

"Mitchell Winston Prescott, that is the daffiest thing I have ever heard you say. Your distant cousin lived on the Rockford estate until he was past ninety years old. He searched high and low for a suitable heir, but he did not know about you. It was not until his solicitors came to me that they found out about you. I went to a lot of trouble to convince them you are the rightful successor. I do have documentation. You cannot give back the title."

"Oh, I thought I could."

"Even if you could it would certainly be a foolish thing to do. It is an old and honored title and I think there is considerable property that goes with it. You will probably be a very rich man."

"I am already a rich man. I made some money in fur trading and then bought ships. The business has been brisk what with England's fleet being used mostly for war purposes. I own a large fleet of ships, and still have some income from the fur trade. In short I am very warm."

"Oh!" Aunt Cicely seemed to be speechless. "I had no idea you had done so well, but you cannot stay out of the country for ever, now can you? Do you not want to return to England permanently?"

"I had not thought so until I landed on English soil and then I began to feel I might like to stay. You know I didn't like the way a bunch of people of the ton treated you and Mother when you both chose husbands who were in business. That's one reason I'd just as soon let the title die out. We don't need a lot more people who think they are owed a living just because of who their ancestors were. At any rate I cannot go back to Canada until I find out about this inheritance." He paused and then looked at his aunt with a penetrating stare. "How about you. Are you getting along all right? I noticed your butler looked pretty scruffy. You always were very particular about how your servants appeared."

"The reason Scott looks scruffy is because he refuses to admit that he has become too obese for his uniform. I have been trying to get him to let me have him measured for new ones, but as yet with no success. It just doesn't seem important enough to force him."

"You always did know what was important in life," Mitchell said softly. "Like comforting a lonely little boy when his parents were suddenly killed."

"You were my favorite nephew. I would have taken you to raise if your uncle had not insisted on having you. As you know, I stood no chance against him. The law is on the side of men."

"I know." Just as he was about to say something else the butler announced another visitor, Baron Rudyard. Mitchell was amused to see a girlish flush suffuse his aunt's face.

Introductions were made and Mitchell announced his departure, but his aunt detained him with a gentle touch of her hand on his arm. "I will walk you to the door." She told the baron to make himself at home, and when she was in the hall with her nephew she said, "There is a large ball Friday celebrating the defeat of Napoleon. I would love for you to escort me."

"Oh, I don't think so. I am just not interested in breaking into society." He hated the idea of being stared at by a stiff-rumped bunch of people who thought the greatest entertainment was learning a new dance or losing all their fortunes in the card rooms. If they thought he was going to gamble his fortune away to them they would be sadly disappointed.

"I will be devastated if you do not take me. What will my friends think if my nephew, newly arrived and the newest Earl of Rockford, does not come to the ball with me?"

"Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?" He knew he was giving in, but his aunt had been exceedingly kind to him in the past. He supposed he owed her that much. He would go with her a few times--just for the sake of appearances.

"Come by tomorrow. We have to buy you some up-to-date clothes--and I wish you would shave that beard."

"You certainly are no less managing than when I was a lad. I am meeting with my solicitor tomorrow--and Aunt Cicely, I have not lived in the wilds of Canada. I have a perfectly acceptable wardrobe. It is one that will do quite well until I can take time to make additions to it."

---

Alanna sat in a small sewing rocker almost covered with white French gauze. She was methodically snipping pink roses off the hem of a ball gown.

"Alanna, what are you doing?" her mother asked as she walked briskly into the room.

"I'm taking these dumb roses off this dress. If you insist we go to Lord Bentham's ball then I need to make this gown presentable."

"Presentable? That was designed and made by one of the best modistes in London. How can you consider just tearing it apart that way?"

"Mama, when I agreed to go for another season I didn't think you meant this fall. If we waited until Spring I would have time to make a new wardrobe. These clothes are just not right for me. They probably look lovely on a tiny little woman, but they just make me look like a decorated sailing ship coming into port." Alanna made a comical face and imitated the movements of a ship with her hands held in prayer position.

"I think you exaggerate, but if it makes you happy go on and do what you must. We will have time for new clothes before we leave for a London season. However, right now we have to have a ball gown for this dance. It is to celebrate our Victorious troops finally getting rid of that monster across the water."

"I know, dearest. I do not mean to be difficult, but I am not fond of the clothes we had made last year. I guess I won't need but one for this trip but when we get back I'd like to make my own for this fall. You have always said I am a much better seamstress than most of the famous modistes."

"Making your own clothes will be a big undertaking and it isn't necessary. We can call in a seamstress and you can supervise every stitch and make a few things yourself. Will that satisfy? And your father and I do not consider it a waste of time and money."

"All right, it's your money and I suppose I can spare the time. I think supervising a professional seamstress is a splendid idea. There now, all of those roses are gone. Let me put this on for you and see what you think," she said with a little satisfied sigh, as she deposited the offending roses in a trash container, and stood up, shaking the wrinkles out of the gown.

Alanna put actions to words before her mother could answer. She dropped the lovely white gown over a petticoat of deep rose silk. The rose silk clung lovingly to her long figure. Alone it would have been too daring for one so young, but when the overdress was added the beautiful deep rose color filtered through the white gauze and created a charming garment.

Lady Whinster pursed her lips as she looked at her daughter. "You know you have the right of it. That does look better on you without all the roses around the bottom. You are a very clever girl. Now with the lovely pearls you were given last year you should be the belle of the ball."

"That is not likely, but I think I will be more comfortable. Maybe if I am not so embarrassed about the frilly clothes I can relax a little and even enjoy the ball."

"I hope so, dear. Now you had better let Geneva press that and you need to get dressed for dinner."

"Very well, Mama."

* * *

On the way to London Alanna stuck her head out of the window of their traveling coach, in a very unlady-like attempt to see who was on the spacious street that extended about half a mile from north to south through the middle of Waverly. She spied a special friend and waved enthusiastically. A loud call was about to escape her mouth when her mother pulled her away from the window.

"Alanna, you simply have to quit behaving like such a hoyden. You are nineteen years old and trying to find a husband. A young lady just does not wave and yell out the window of a traveling coach."

Alanna thought better of contradicting her mother about finding a husband. Her mother and father wanted her to get married, but Alanna was very sure they were going to be disappointed. She was already making plans for her life as an unmarried woman.

The night of the ball arrived all too soon for Alanna. Her mother had insisted on her having her hair done by a professional hair dresser and Alanna had had to fight him to keep him from cutting her luxurious long hair. He thought the curly auburn hair would lend itself to the newest fashion and was itching to show off his expertise. When he seemed intent on having his way Alanna stretched herself to her full height, which was at least four inches taller than the little hair dresser, and told him if he touched her hair with those scissors for anything but a trim she would throw him out of the house bodily.

He looked wild-eyed and terrified as he made for the door and exited the room as fast as he could move. He came face to face with Lady Whinster and said, "Don't send for me again for that one, Madame. I think she is a little off upstairs."

"Sir! That is my daughter you are speaking of. How dare you?"

"Beg your pardon, m'lady." He dashed for the outside door as though he expected Alanna to come tearing after him in hot pursuit.

When Lady Whinster went into Alanna's room she found her daughter doubled over in laughter. "What did you do to terrify that poor man? He left here like the devil himself was after him."

"Or the devil herself," Alanna sputtered. "I just told him if he cut my hair off I'd throw him out of the house myself--bodily."

"Oh! Alanna. He is one of the most sought after hair dressers in the city and I expect he will not hesitate to tell everyone he encounters about your threat."

"Maybe I had better go after him and let him know what I can do to him if he tries that."

"You certainly will not."

"Now, Mama. Do you really think I'd look good with my hair cut short? I would really look like a lamp pole with a top-knot of curly hair." Alanna pushed her hair on top of her head, pursed her lips, at the same time she bugged her eyes out and crossed them.

"Now stop that this minute," Lady Whinster snapped. "There you go with your hoyden ways. Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I just feel silly getting ready to parade myself before the ton again. I'm so tall and gangling. I don't like being called a Long Meg."

"That's an unkind thing for anyone to say and besides, it isn't true. You have a good figure. You simply need to enhance it a little and I have brought you a little corset that will aid your figure a bit. Give you a little more roundness. It will push everything up and show a lot more up here." She indicated Alanna's chest.

"A corset? What a deception."

"Many women wear them now, I'm told. This even has a little metal device for separation and will help you look a lot more womanly."

Alanna looked at the strange garment her mother held and shuddered. She was sure she would never wear that torturous garment, but she knew her mother well enough not to argue with her. She simply took it and laid it on the table. "I hope Geneva will know how to get me into this thing."

"If she does not I will be just across the hall. Now you had better take a little nap so you will look rested for the ball."

It was evident that Alanna's mother was setting great store in this ball. Alanna hoped her mother would not be devastated when she discovered it was for naught.

After a valiant effort to follow her mother's suggestion for a nap Alanna summoned Geneva to help her dress. The little maid tightened the corset and squeezed all of Alanna's flesh towards the top of her body. A chemise of very fine linen went over the corset and then the elegant, rose tinted underdress was followed by the white French gauze over-dress, which billowed down over the whole. The little maid tugged and twitched the garments into place and then had Alanna sit on a low stool so she could dress her hair. She pulled the silky auburn tresses into a high, loose knot and allowed little fringes of curls to escape down the back and around her ears. She then fastened a lovely strand of pearls around Alanna's neck. Alanna added the ear rings. Geneva stepped back and admired her handiwork.

"Oh, Miss. You do look a treat. You look like a royal person. So regal."

"Thank you, Geneva. Do not leave for a few minutes. I'll go let Mama see how I look and then I'll be back."

Lady Whinster admired her daughter and was quite pleased with herself for her part in seeing that she was shown to the best advantage. "You go on down stairs, dear. I have a little more to do and then I'll be ready."

"Oh, I seem to have forgotten my handkerchief," said Alanna as she rummaged around in her reticule. "I think I left it on the bed. I will just dash back in there and see."

Without waiting for her mother to comment she strode quickly back the way she had come. "Quickly," she hissed. "Get me out of this hateful corset. I will not wear anything that makes me look like a light-skirt."

"But, Miss, Lady Whinster wouldn't have you wear something that would make you look like, uh--uh, that."

"Not intentionally, but there is just too much of me showing at the top of this dress. Get me out of this odious thing."

The task was soon accomplished and Alanna breathed a sigh of relief and descended the stairs quickly. Her father took her rose-colored velvet pelisse from the butler and gave Alanna a little hug as he helped her into the garment. "You look beautiful, my dear. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

"Thank you, Papa. I will try."

* * *

"Mitchell Winston Prescott, Fourth Earl of Rockford," intoned the butler in a foghorn voice that dared people to ignore him. Mitchell groaned and tried to look nonchalant. The announcement should have made him feel his importance, but it caused him to want to turn around and leave the elegant mansion and not stop until he had boarded his ship and set sail--where? Back to Canada? No, he really had had enough of Canada. Maybe America now that the war was over. Anywhere but here.

His aunt clung possessively to his arm and he looked down at her glowing face. Her pride in him was almost enough compensation for the ordeal he felt he was going to be subjected to.

"Mitchell, look! There is the Duke of Wellington. Oh, is this not all that is wonderful? Everyone is here. Just everyone."

Mitchell had no difficulty believing the whole of London was in attendance because there was very little room to move, and they were being shoved along with a crowd of people whom he hoped knew where they were going. He could see over their heads, being several inches taller than anyone else in the room, but he could see no logical destination for the crowd's movement.

"Aunt Cicely, you cannot see anything but the backs of people's necks. I feel like I should pick you up and ride you on my shoulder as I would a child."

She looked up at him, fearing that he would really do it until she saw the mischievous gleam in his eye. "Oh, go on with you. We will be in the ballroom in a few minutes and then the crowd will thin out. Some people will go play cards, some to the buffet table and some may even dance. I would like to dance."

"Do you still dance?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"We-ell, I just thought---"

"Quit thinking. I dance, ride, walk, play cards and anything else I feel like doing. Even at the advanced age of forty-five, I can still have a good time."

Mitchell choked a little. He knew for a fact that his aunt was at least fifty-five, but wisely let the matter drop. If she wanted to forget about ten years of her life it was no concern of his. He put his arm around her waist to ease her through a particular knot of people. As he cleared the group that was standing in his way he noticed a tall, beautiful woman with a mass of dark hair which resembled rich mahogany.

"Aunt Cicely. Do you know who that gorgeous creature is?"

"Who, the darling little blonde right in front of us?"

"No. That magnificent woman just now entering the ballroom."

"Her? That is Miss Alanna Fairchild. She was here part of the season this spring and then disappeared. She did not take at all."

"Not take? Whatever do you mean? Not take?"

"I mean that she did not receive an offer of marriage that she would accept. Oh, I heard there were several fortune hunters offered for her, but she was very cool to their suit."

"I want to meet her. I think she is beautiful."

"But she is so tall. There are a lot of pretty blondes and little brunettes for you to meet. With your wealth and title you can have your pick."

"And how would I have any idea if someone is after my title or my fortune, if I took my pick. Of course this is assuming that I want to find a bride which I do not feel is necessary right now."

"You cannot put it off too long. You are the last of the Rockfords and you must produce an heir."

Mitchell groaned. His aunt had hinted at this on the way to the ball and he had pretended he didn't know what she meant, but he could see he was going to have to resist her matchmaking with all of his might. If he didn't watch himself she would have him leg-shackled before the evening was over.

They finally wound their way to the enormous ballroom and Aunt Cicely was right when she said the crowd would thin. People were going in various directions to pursue their interests, but Mitchell did not have much of a respite. He and his aunt were soon surrounded by friends of hers, simpering young misses towed to his side by ambitious mothers and some who were simply curious to see what the new Earl of Rockford looked like.

What they saw was a dazzlingly handsome young man dressed in a black evening outfit and pristine white, ruffled shirt, whose broad shoulders did not depend on built in padding. His long legs were encased in evening britches and silk stockings. His dancing slippers looked surprisingly graceful on such a large young man. His black hair, steel blue eyes and tawny complexion were colorful enough, but he had refused to cut his beard as Aunt Cicely had ordered; he towered above everyone, looking mysterious and dangerous.

He was the only man in the room with a full beard. There were several with mustaches, but no beards. He had not thought to enjoy himself at this ball, but he was enjoying the way people were reacting to him. The mischievous child in him surfaced and he thought, I think it is going to be fun to see if I can shake up this starchy crowd.

* * *

Alanna's mother was one of those who thought it would be wise to introduce her daughter to the young lord even though she felt a little apprehension because of the dangerous look of the man. But she had heard he was wealthy as well as titled and she felt Alanna should have an opportunity to meet the gentleman. Also, he was a tall man which might please her shy daughter.

She greeted Cicely as though they were bosom buddies, even though they had never had much to do with each other.

"Lady Caxton, it's so good to see you again. You remember my daughter Alanna, don't you?"

"Of course. How are you, my dear?"

Alanna was well aware of why she had been towed to this casual acquaintance's side and she refused to smile, but politely answered that she was very well.

Cicely turned to Mitchell and said, "And this is my nephew Lord Rockford. Just newly back in England after an absence of ten years."

Mitchell bowed to Lady Whinster and murmured his delight at meeting her and then turned to Alanna. His aunt introduced the young woman to Mitchell and was distressed at his apparent interest in her. He bowed in a very courtly manner and said, "I'm so very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Fairchild. Will you save a dance for me?"

Alanna had met very few men who could look down on her. She stared at him, taking in his height, beard, swarthy complexion and startling blue eyes. She realized an answer was expected of her when her mother reached her side and pinched her. "Oh, yes. I think I have a few left."

No one but her mother knew this to be a very sarcastic remark. Alanna hadn't had anyone ask for a dance yet and she very much doubted they would if it was anything like her experience at her debut. "Would you like to dance the cotillion?" she asked.

"Of course. Which dance is it?"

"I think the third set."

"Very well. I look forward to it."

His Aunt Cicely tugged at his arm until he followed her to be introduced to a bevy of other fresh-faced, dewy-eyed young women, none of whom tweaked his interest in the least. His eyes kept following Alanna about the room. He saw a portly gent approach her and Alanna's frown could be detected from where he was, which was on the other side of the dance floor.

The portly gentleman led Alanna out, and they made a few turns until they came to French doors opening onto a small balcony. He danced Alanna out onto the balcony and Mitchell could see Alanna try to pull back, but the portly gentleman held on tightly. Mitchell strolled as unobtrusively as he could towards the door where they had exited.

"Sir Anthony, what is the meaning of this? Let us go back inside immediately. Do you hear? Immediately," she hissed.

"Oh no, my dear. I want to talk to you. I want to show you what it would mean if you become my wife. You are just too innocent to know anything about the delights of love and I intend to remedy that."

He pulled Alanna to him. His nose reached the middle of her chin and he tilted his face with every intent of kissing her. He only had to glance down to look directly at the soft curve of her breasts and he reached a hand up to cup one of them while trying to kiss her. Alanna's reaction was swift and decisive. She slapped him with her open palm with all the strength she could muster. He dropped to the floor of the balcony as though someone had pulled a rug out from under him. His head bumped the rock floor with a resounding thud.

Alanna stood looking at him, horrified. She put both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. She heard the clap, clap of slow applause. Leaning against the doorjamb was Lord Rockford.

"Oh, do something," she hissed. "I think I have killed him."

"I do not think he is dead, but I will do something." He stepped back into the room and picked a large vase from a table, returned to the balcony and dumped the entire contents, flowers and all, on Sir Anthony's face. Sir Anthony sputtered and sat up and looked around to see what had hit him. He saw the menacing young lord standing there. He scrambled to his feet and sidled around Mitchell and left the room as unobtrusively as possible.

"I did not know they let young ladies train at Gentlemen Jackson's. That blow would do justice to any young pugilist."

Alanna felt herself blush to the bottom of her feet. "I didn't mean to hit him so hard. It comes from having to defend myself against some of the pranks of my brothers."

"He had it coming. I saw the whole thing. He will probably think twice before he forces his attentions on a young woman again. You probably did the other ladies of the ton a big favor."

"I am afraid this will not be the last I hear from him. He is a neighbor of ours who thinks he would like me to marry him so I can take care of his spoiled children." Alanna stopped herself from saying any more. After all, she did not know Lord Rockford and her mother would probably say she was being a hoyden to confide in him.

A thoughtful look settled on Mitchell's features and he regarded Alanna with sympathy, "I hope you do not give that any serious consideration."

"Oh, I won't. I have already told him that we would not suit, but he thinks he can persuade me."

Mitchell caught the attention of a passing footman and pointed out the need to clean up the mess made by dumping flowers and water on Sir Anthony. He then took Alanna by the elbow and urged her back into the ball room.

"I hear the strains of a waltz beginning. I hope you do not have it promised." He didn't wait for her to respond, but swung her out on the dance floor with a flourish. "Forget that mutton-head and enjoy yourself."

Alanna giggled and said, "I am certainly grateful that he was not seriously injured. He struck his head pretty hard."

"I think there is still some justice left in the world," the handsome gentleman said with a grin.

They moved to the strains of the beautiful waltz and Alanna looked completely composed and appeared to be enjoying herself. She could feel the eyes of her mother on her and knew Lady Whinster would be delighted to see her dancing. She could almost hear a sigh of relief from her mother, but soon her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Mitchell's warm hand at the small of her back and heat from it seemed to radiate throughout her body. She had danced the waltz with a few men before, but none had evoked the feelings that were delighting her. He was a graceful dancer who led her with authority. He was big enough that she felt small, svelte and utterly graceful for the first time in her life. She looked up, looked up! into his intense blue eyes and missed a step. He was regarding her with an expression she could not decipher. Their eyes met and he smiled, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and lifting the dark beard. Alanna had the strongest desire to stroke that beard to see if it was as soft as it looked. She banished the thought immediately before she gave in to it. She had been known to react impulsively and this would not be a good time to give in to such an impulse. She relaxed in his arms and surrendered herself to enjoying the dance thoroughly--something she had never done before.

Mitchell was enchanted. She smelled faintly of roses and something indefinable. Probably just beautiful woman. Her stunning dark auburn hair shone nearer brown in the candlelight. Her eyes were thickly fringed with lashes a few shades darker than her hair. He felt sure it was all natural, because she did not seem to have an ounce of vanity. When she turned her large, expressive eyes on him he felt he was drowning in chocolate.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, forgetting himself.

Alanna thought if she did not answer he would think she had not heard. They were close to the door leading to a small garden which was hung with fairy lights. Mitchell twirled her out the door and down one of the paths.

"My lord, what are you doing? I cannot be out here alone with you," she protested while trying to subdue the thrill that coursed through her body.

"Miss Fairchild?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Miss Fairchild, someday I am going to make you my wife."

She stopped breathing for a minute. She could not believe she had heard him aright. Surely he had not spoken to her of marriage. She had only known him for a short while. There must be some ulterior motive behind such an announcement. He probably had inherited a title and needed a rich wife to shore up his finances. She turned on him in fury.

"And how do you think you are going to do that, my lord? We do not know each other."

"I know enough to be sure you are the only woman I have ever considered asking to be my wife. I understand it is too soon to do anything about it right now. I do have to go to Plymouth and Brighton tomorrow, but I will be back."

"You are probably like every other man I have ever known. You want a strong, well dowered wife to aid you in your finances and to raise your children. Do you have a passel of brats somewhere, my lord?"

Mitchell stepped back a little and eyed her. Someone had given this woman a low opinion of herself and he would like to throttle whoever it was, but since he had no idea who to attack he answered her.

"I do not have children and I do not need a well dowered woman for a wife. I am rich enough that you could not spend all my money in a lifetime."

Alanna stared at him and swallowed. Now what? He had just pulled down her normal defenses and she was not sure what to do. Oh, no. He is coming closer. he is right up against me.

She reached out to push him away and he took her hands in his and pulled her close to him. He tipped her head up and took her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss that would not threaten her. However, his body betrayed him and he pulled her tighter against him and deepened the kiss. When he felt her respond he knew he would be lost if he did not stop.

"So beautiful," he whispered against her lips. "I want you more than any woman I have ever known."

Alanna reluctantly pulled away from him against her own desire. She had wanted to be kissed by him and now she did not know what to do. His mouth was so soft, but at the same time firm. The beard was soft and felt good to her face. She giggled.

Mitchell looked at her with some chagrin. "Was that funny?"

"No, my lord, but I have wanted to touch your beard; I have been curious about how it would feel and now I know. It is soft."

"Is that all you felt?"

She lowered her eyes and her lashes made little half moons under her eyes. "You know that it is not, my lord."

"I did not think so. I am not going to apologize. I have wanted to do that ever since I first saw you."

"Really? Most men do not give me a second look. Except those who need to marry a mother for their children or a sizable amount of money to come to the marriage."

"I would like to take each person by the neck and choke him that has caused you to feel you are not a desirable woman. You are tall, and lovely and we are perfectly suited to each other."

"How can you know that? We have not been together enough to know anything about each other." Alanna held her breath; she was hoping he would speak words of love, saying he had fallen madly in love at his first sight of her.

Mitchell had been resisting the idea of marriage ever since his aunt had brought up the idea but somehow meeting Alanna had turned his thoughts in another direction. He decided that maybe he did need to marry and produce an heir. Most of the other young women he had met looked like baby dolls, but Alanna was a woman that would be a perfect match for his size and physique, even if they knew little else about each other. Unfortunately for Mitchell he did not keep this to himself and said, "I will talk to your father to see if I may pay my address, but as for being suited to each other we are both bigger than most people and should produce the needed heir with little trouble."

Alanna felt a blush deepening and suffusing her whole body, partly from embarrassment in discussing such an intimate topic, but more because she was furious.

"So you have selected me as you would a brood mare. I am of a suitable size. Do you want to check my teeth? My conformation? How about my blood line? There might be a skeleton or two in the closet that would contaminate our offspring."

Mitchell backed up, looking as if he had been slapped. What in the world had he said to set her off so? However, he could not believe she was serious in her objections and he dug himself in even deeper.

"Your conformation is perfect from my point of view."

"Do not bother to speak to my father. I have my life planned and it does not include becoming someone's brood mare. I have had similar offers. Most were not quite as outspoken about the reason as you, but it seems you all want exactly the same thing,"

"Miss Fairchild, please. I did not mean to offend you. I admire you. Your statuesque beauty, your coloring and your grace."

Alanna snorted--a very unlady like sound. "Good evening, my lord. I believe my mother is waiting for me. I do not plan to ever marry. I am going to dedicate my life to educating children."

"Do you not want children of your own?"

"There are already too many children in the world. Children who are not cared for properly. They are underfed, under clothed and pressed into all kinds of services that no child should have to do. I intend to try to change that by concentrating on education. That will be my life's work." She swiped at tell-tale tears in her eyes and turned briskly and almost ran back towards the ballroom.

The young lord's eyes followed her and a puzzled expression took possession of his face. He could not quite understand what he had said that was so offensive, but he knew there was little point in trying to remedy things right now. The lawyer had spent several hours telling him about the extensive holdings he had inherited. His main mission right now was to travel England and visit all of those estates to see if they needed any attention. The whole idea was staggering to him, because he knew absolutely nothing of farming and all of the estates were essentially farms. He had no time to court a Junoesque young miss. That is what he told himself, but his eyes kept seeking her out and he saw several young blades had noticed her and were securing a place on her dance card. She is too fine a woman for those jackanapes, he thought. He immediately chided himself for his dog-in-a-manger attitude. It isn't as though she is getting ready to walk down the aisle with one of them.

With that thought in mind he made his way back to Lady Whinster's side and waited for Alanna to be returned to her. She had a radiant smile on her face as she walked with the young officer, but when she saw Mitchell the smile left her face.

"I hope you have not promised the supper dance," he said.

Alanna blushed and said, "I am afraid all of the rest of my dances are promised, my lord. I am sorry." She was inordinately please to be able to tell him that. How did he dare ask her for another dance and to take her in to supper after what had just transpired between them?

"In that case, may I call on you tomorrow?"

Alanna looked at her mother for guidance. She thought they were going back to Winchester the next day, but she wasn't sure.

"I am sorry Lord Rockford. My husband insists that we leave for our home tomorrow very early. He has some important business he had to leave to come to this ball. We will not return until September. If this hadn't been such a special celebration of our country's victory over that monster we simply wouldn't have made such a trip at this time."

"I hope to see you then," he said to Alanna. He was disappointed, but thought it was probably fortunate for him because just the sight of the young woman made him want to abandon all of his plans and simply try to get her to smile on him again.

---

Alanna supervised the packing of her things for the return trip with much more enthusiasm than she had for the journey to London. She had left many things unfinished for her school and was eager to get home to pick up where she had left off. She also had missed her brother Quinlin. Things were never dull around Quinlin.

"Now that was not so bad, was it?" her mother asked as they settled into the comfortable traveling carriage. "You looked like you were enjoying the ball."

Alanna and her mother had had a delightful time shopping for all manner of material and accouterments to improve Alanna's wardrobe. Alanna still thought this a waste of time and money, but she wasn't quite as opposed to the idea of an additional season since she had had a modicum of success at the ball. Several young and entertaining men had asked to dance with her and she had been treated with courtesy and some interest by other members of the beau monde. This was especially true since Lord Rockford had danced with her.

"I did enjoy parts of it. Certainly better than during my come out."

"You seemed to especially enjoy your dance with Lord Rockford. He looks a bit forbidding, but I understand he is quite warm in the pockets. I think he was quite taken with you.

"I think he was most taken by my size. He said he had not seen such a tall young woman as I." Alanna knew she was not telling quite the truth, but she did not want to share all that went on between her and the bold gentleman with her mother.

"I am sure you will enjoy the fall season and make a brilliant match."

"Is it so important to you that I get married?" Alanna asked. "Does it bother you that I might be cast in the roll of the maiden aunt?"

"The only thing that bothers me about it is that I think you will have a happier life if you are successfully married with a home and children of your own. That's the only really successful role for a woman."

"Mama, things are changing. Women are becoming far more active in the world these days and striking out on their own to accomplish important things."

"Most women who do not marry simply spend their time moving from one relative to the other. It sounds dismal to me."

"I do not intend to ever do that. I am going to establish a school for children of people who cannot afford to educate them. I think everyone needs to know how to read and do simple arithmetic."

"Perhaps." Lady Whinster answered and then settled back among the cushions and napped the rest of the way home.

The sight of their ancestral home was always a joy to Alanna. The spacious grounds leading to the house displayed a vast area of well cropped grass. Century old trees made a frame for the building which was flanked by numerous evergreens and bushes.

The house itself was a gabled Elizabethan stone. It had been changed very little on the outside since it was first built. Sometime in the late eighteenth century wings were added and blended with the original house. Inside, the house had been periodically updated, but there remained enough of the original interior to give the old house a feeling of history.

The hall, which dissected the center of the house, had screens of marbled columns at either end. The long gallery above was predominantly from the later part of the seventeenth century, with fielded paneling, Corinthian pilaster, and over mantle carvings.

The Whinster nobility had been and remained a responsible group of people with a feel for the obligations handed to them on the inheritance of their properties. Each generation had added improvements until the present holdings were like jewels set on a slight slope a few miles from Winchester.

The weary travelers descended from the carriage and moved rather stiffly up the few front steps to the door which was being held open by a smiling footman.

* * *

Mitchell spent the better part of the week after the ball conferring with the solicitor and improving his wardrobe. He had several properties which needed attention and was hard put to decide where to begin. He asked Sawyer if Riley was still in the house and the butler said, "I think so m'lord."

"Will you fetch him for me then?"

"Yes, m'lord."

Riley ambled into the room a few minutes later and slouched into a chair. "What?" he asked.

"I think Mr. Miles has finally run out of estates that belong to the Rockfords and I have to check them all out somehow. I need your help." He paced up and down in front of the fireplace, pulling at his beard and running his hands through his hair, completely ruining the careful styling efforts of his recently hired valet.

"Very well. We are partners, after all," said Riley twisting from one side to the other in an effort to keep up with Mitchell's perambulations.

"We are business partners, but you have no obligation to tend to my inheritance. If you decide to help, it will be strictly out of the goodness of your heart."

"What do you have in mind?"

"There are several properties that are not entailed and I want you to travel to a couple of them and determine if they are worth keeping and if so do they need repairs, improving or whatever disposition you might recommend."

"That is certainly handing me a big say in your affairs." Riley stood and began pacing the room also. The two of them were like a pair of caged cats.

"We have worked as a successful team for the last several years. I have absolute confidence in your judgment," he said, giving Riley a hearty swat on the shoulders.

"Very well, just don't break my back, will you? Where first?"

"There are two properties close to the border of Scotland. One is a hunting box and I have no notion of what the other is. It is simply described as a six-room cottage with a thatched roof. It stands close to a small village, not very far from the hunting box. You can see about both properties when you go. They are both in Northumberland."

"That will be an interesting trip. I grew up in that part of the country. There are several coal mines in the area. Very meanly run, I might say."

"That is another thing I would like for you to see about. Mr. Miles said there is a mine on one of the properties. If so, I need to know how it is being run and if it is making a profit. The records do not show any income from it."

"Where are you going first? We need to check into renting an office in London, or close by. Our shipping business will suffer if we neglect it very long."

"There is a rather large house in Brighton that I want to check out. It is standing empty at the moment and Mr. Miles says there have been many inquiries about it. He thinks it needs work before it can be rented--that is if I decide to rent it. The idea of owning a place that close to the sea interests me. I may keep it for rusticating. We might even be able to make our English headquarters there but probably not. It is a bit too far from the important trade routes. Also, I am going back to Plymouth to see about our ship. It was needing some repairs and since I will be going in that direction I will just go on and attend to business."

Riley lifted an eyebrow and said, "I think you are so flush in the pockets that you are beginning to like the idea of being an earl. Next thing you know you will be denouncing people in trade."

Mitchell snorted in derision. "I am beginning to like the idea of staying in England, but being a lord has nothing to do with it."

"When do you want me to start on this expedition?"

"Any time, if you have wound up your business here."

"I don't have any business here, remember?"

"I have made a draft on the estate accounts for your expenses. Also, a line of credit if you should need more." He handed the draft and the letter to Riley. "I can be reached through Mr. Miles if you need to contact me. The whole trip shouldn't take over a month."

"Probably not."

"I have also given you the authority to dispose of, order repairs and to take any other action you may deem appropriate."

"Thank you. I think. This is out of my line."

"You have excellent business sense. One aspect of business cannot be much different from another, now can it?"

Riley stopped in the middle of the floor and his hand darted out to Mitchell for a handshake. "I may have some relatives in Scotland. I just might look them up while I am up that way."

"I thought you were Irish," Mitchell said.

"Just part. My father was Irish, but my mother was a red-headed Scottish lass. Very pretty if the miniature is accurate."

"I do not remember you're telling me that," Mitchell said.

"We have been too busy getting rich."

"Maybe that is just being too busy," Mitchell said, with a slight downturn of his mouth.

"Oh, he is not only a lord but is getting philosophical. I will make my escape before anything else strange comes out." With which speech Riley left the room.

A few days later Mitchell was tooling along the road to Plymouth in the same luxurious traveling coach that had brought him to London. The Rockford crest emblazoned on the side of the coach brought him much bowing and scraping from the proprietors of inns along the way. His needs were quickly attended to as well as that of his horses. His valet was new and anxious to please, therefore he always secured a private parlor and quick service. All this rather amused the new lord. He knew he was exactly the same man he had been a few weeks ago, but the deferential treatment set him apart.

They arrived at the ancient town of Winchester about dusk the second evening of their journey. They hadn't started very early in the day due to Aunt Cicely's efforts to delay him so she could show him off at a few more balls. He promised to be her dancing monkey when he returned.

They turned to the west where, they had been told, a wide street led to The King's Inn--the only large posting house in the area. Mitchell had let the windows down to do some sight-seeing. The town was a treasure of ancient architecture.

A rather large structure, that was built of ancient stone, defied comprehension of its intended use. At the moment it was being given a thorough scrubbing by a woman whose hair was tied in a large blue scarf. There was something familiar looking about the woman, but he was sure he had never seen her before so he shrugged off the thought. Several children were working also. Two were cleaning windows, one was scrubbing the steps and another was hacking tall bushes away from the foundation.

"Stop, John. that is one of the most unusual structures I have seen since arriving in England. I want to look it over before we travel on."

The coachman pulled the horses up and the footman, who was riding next to him, got off his perch and let down the steps. "Do you want to get out, m'lord?"

"Yes."

He stood there for a minute scrutinizing the activity. It puzzled him that he felt something familiar about the woman wielding the scrub brush.

He admired the rounded hips and tall figure with no attempt to disguise his admiration. She turned around as though feeling his eyes on her. She gasped and dropped her scrub brush back into her bucket, which splashed dirty water all over the bottom part of her dress.

"Lord Rockford? What in the world are you doing here?"

"Miss Fairchild? You are Miss Fairchild, aren't you?"

Alanna patted the scarf which was tied around her head. She then smoothed her dress in an effort to collect her wits. Before she could manage to compose herself, Mitchell had stepped up to within inches of her and reached out and plucked the scarf off her head. He watched, fascinated, as her glorious, hair tumbled down around her shoulders like a silken fountain of deep browns which seemed to be highlighted by fire and completely transformed the picture.

"My lord, how dare you?" She snatched the scarf from his hand and made an unsuccessful attempt to re-tie it.

A devilish grin tucked at Mitchell's mouth. "I had to see that hair. I don't think there is another woman in England with hair like that." He came even closer and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up. "Eyes that are almost the exact color of your hair, just a bit browner. I have never seen such a combination. How did you manage that?"

"Really, my lord. You are drawing attention to us."

"What are you doing here working like a scullery maid? If I remember the last time we met you were clad in a gorgeous ball gown and I danced a waltz with you."

She turned to the children and said, "That will be all for this afternoon. Run on home. Your mamas will start looking for you to do evening chores and have your supper."

The children laid down their working tools reluctantly. Alanna could see they were quite curious about the handsome lord who had stopped to speak to her. She made a little shooing motion and said, "I'll see you in the morning. Thank you for being such good helpers."

She turned back to Mitchell and said, "I am getting a school ready for these children. There is no place they can even learn to read and write and I intend to change that. Everyone should know how to read and write. I told you that I plan to make educating unfortunate children my life's work. You can't have forgotten that. We were having such an enlightened conversation," she said. Her voice dripping sarcasm.

She had backed up from Mitchell and picked up the bucket of dirty water to throw into some bushes in the yard. He took the bucket from her and emptied it and handed her the scrub brush.

"Really, Lord Rockford. You will get yourself dirty. Why are you concerning yourself with this?"

"I am simply delighted to see you again so soon. I thought it would be in the fall before I had an opportunity to renew our acquaintance."

Alanna could not seem to find her voice. Lord Rockford was still standing very close and it was doing something strange to her breathing, as though his very presence was causing the air to be too dense for adequate breath.

"I really must be getting home. My family will send half of the servants for me if I am away after dark."

"Will you allow me to escort you home? I have my coachman, a footman and my valet. The four of us should be able to see that you get home safely."

"Thank you, but I have a gig around back and it isn't very far. If I leave right away I can make it home just before dark."

"John," he called. "Will you go around to the back and get Miss Fairchild's gig?"

Alanna became even more flustered at the proprietary attitude Lord Rockford was assuming. Could he not see that she was a woman quite capable of taking care of herself? No one, absolutely no one, ever felt the necessity of doing little things like that for her. Except the servants, of course.

"My Lord. You surely have business of your own to attend to without taking on seeing after me." She felt desperate to rid herself of him.

"Oh, I do not have any very pressing business. I am on my way to Plymouth and then to Brighton. I need to see about my ship at Plymouth and it seems I have inherited a house of some sort in Brighton."

"Well, then. There you are. You need to get on your way."

The devilish grin was back, which with his dark beard, tawny skin and startling blue eyes caused Alanna's body to heat in places she had never been aware of before, in spite of all of her efforts to remain indifferent. He looked dangerous, and utterly fascinating. She remembered how it felt to be in his arms at the ball, dancing the waltz and enjoying it for the first time in her life.

"I have plenty of time. Here is your gig. Up you go." He lifted her into the vehicle as though she were a dainty, helpless little woman. And as though that were not enough he stepped briskly up beside her. The little gig groaned with the weight of the two of them and Alanna thought of how they must look crowded together in the little vehicle. She felt the warmth of his body next to hers and wished she could move a little farther over, but if she did she would be out on the other side. The mental picture she had of herself in her dirty dress, the two of them crowded into the little gig and the old horse that was supposed to pull them, became too much for her and she burst into the giggles.

"My lord. I do not think this is a very good idea. I do not think the old horse can pull the two of us."

Mitchell cocked an eyebrow at her. "Mayhap you are right. I will return to my coach and we will follow you to your home."

"Now that is just silly. I do not need an escort."

"Maybe not, but I need to see where you live and to see that you get home safely. Humor me, will you?"

"I wish you would not, my lord. I do not think we have any need of each other's company, and I really must go. My folks will really begin to worry about me. It is almost our dinner hour."

Mitchell dropped down from the gig and watched as she got her horse started down the broad street and then he told his coachman to follow her. Even at the slow pace of the old horse, it did not take long to reach the majestic house which was situated on a slight rise just a short distance from town. The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the stone structure, reflecting prisms of light from the windows. The house gradually took on a radiance, as candles were lit in every room of the house, creating the appearance of a joyful home.

Mitchell felt a melancholy longing deep within his very being. Never had he seen a place that looked so like the home he had always wanted. He also realized that he had found, without any effort on his part, the woman he wanted for his wife. She is so statuesque, so beautiful and imposing that I cannot understand why someone has not snatched her up ahead of me, but it is my good fortune they have not. How he could know that so soon defied analysis, but he knew it was so. He had known the minute he saw her at that unfortunate ball. He needed to mend his fences with her.

When the gig stopped in front of the home a small lad hurried out and took the horse's head as Alanna stepped out of the vehicle. To her surprise Lord Rockford had already descended from his coach and was striding toward her with a purposeful look on his face.

"I must explain to your parents why you are so late and offer my apologies," he said.

"You do not need to do that. I am quite capable of explaining to them, but I guess good manners dictate that I ask you in," she said, obviously reluctant to offer the invitation.

"I would love to. Let me see to my men."

He told John to walk the horses around for a few minutes and when he had spoken to the Fairchilds they could be on their way.

Alanna caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror in the long hall and gasped. She had no idea she looked so disgraceful.

"Davies," she hissed.

"Yes, miss?"

"Will you take Lord Rockford in to Mama and Papa? They have already met so I do not have to introduce them. You know that if Mama see