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sir."
    "It's soon. I'd thought to give her more time—she is but fifteen, and—well, once my creditors are told, there is no need for unseemly haste in the matter. Perhaps when she is sixteen—"
    "I do not mind that she is young, Ashton—quite the contrary," the elderly baron countered. "Lady Kingsley will be precisely what I choose to make her."
    "Still—"
    "The sixteenth," Kingsley declared flatly. "I shall be giving a country party for her directly after the first of the year, where I may observe how she goes on in company." His gaze met Thomas Ashton's as he added meaningfully, "You are welcome to extend invitations to those who hold your most pressing vouchers, of course." He smiled thinly. "That should delay any foreclosures, I believe."
    "I should not expect many to travel to Cornwall."
    "The weather is milder there than here." Kingsley rose and leaned on the narrow ebony cane. "But I leave it to you to determine whom to tell. I shall, however, expect a rather complete accounting of your indebtedness for my solicitor before the settlements are drawn."
    "Of course. And the allowance?"
    "The allowance will commence upon the marriage, Ashton. Not one day sooner."
    "You will frank the wedding?"
    "As it's to be a small affair—I do not think any but her family would wish to be present—I cannot expect the expense to be great, but yes, I will." Balancing his weight on one hand, the old man reached into his coat and drew out a slim leather folder. Using his thumb, he counted out a number of crisp banknotes. "Here is five hundred pounds for the girl. See that you use it to purchase her some decent gowns before she comes to Stoneleigh."
    "You are most generous, my lord."
    "No insipid colors, mind you—and no stinting. And, as in the case of the other, I shall expect an accounting of every farthing. I'd see it expended on the girl and nothing else."
    Trying not to betray his chagrin, Thomas Ashton bowed slightly. "It will, of course, be as you wish."
    "See that it is. I did not gain my wealth by consorting with fools, sir."
    "He's coming out!" Charlotte hissed excitedly. But as the black-coated figure moved slowly into the hall, and she could see his narrow, stooped shoulders, she gasped, "Lud—is that Kingsley, Nell?"
    "Yes."
    Instinctively, the younger girl clasped her sister's hand for comfort. The old man looked up, seeing them, and his thin mouth curved into another smile. He raised his cane to Nell. "You must not fear me, my dear, for I mean to treat you well. Indeed, but once you are at Stoneleigh, you shall want for nothing."
    Elinor pulled away from her sister, and, covering her mouth, ran up the stairs. She did not stop until she reached the safety of her room, and then she was heartily sick in the washbasin. She retched violently, bringing up the contents of her nuncheon, until there was nothing left. Finally, she flung herself facedown onto her bed and cried.
    "Here now, missy—what's this?" her papa asked from the door.
    "I won't wed him," came the muffled reply. "I won't!"
    He deeply regretted what he had done, and he felt for her, but he had to make her understand. "Aye, you will, Nell."
    "I'd rather die!"
    He moved closer, reaching out to her, then he sighed. "I had to do it, puss—I had to." When she said nothing, he dropped to sit beside her. "I did it for you, Nell. And for the other girls. Would you see them on the street? Would you have them begging for parish alms?"
    "Papa, I cannot!" she wailed.
    "Aye, you can." With uncharacteristic gentleness, he smoothed the copper hair against the back of her muslin gown. "Nell—"
    "How could you?" she demanded miserably, her face buried in the covers. "He's old! And—and you let him touch me!"
    "He is sixty-one, puss." He leaned over her. "Think on it—the man's rich as Croesus, Nell, and he cannot live forever. You'll be a rich widow before long," he reasoned softly. "You'll want for nothing—nothing. You'll have jewels, fancy gowns—a hundred servants