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business his way. ”
    “ His wife ’ s mama is ailing. She makes her home with them, and they wanted her to be near Bath for the waters. ”
    “ He ’ ll not make a name for himself in Bath. It seems a hard sacrifice to make for the sake of his wife ’ s mama, ” he said, dissatisfied.
    “ But Francis loves Miriam, you see. He wants her to be happy, and she wants to have her mama where she can help her. Besides, he does very well in the way of wills and settling estates with all the older people there, ” she explained.
    “ Francis had great potential. Honors in two subjects at Oxford, as I recall. He should have gone into politics. He might have been a cabinet minister. ”
    “ I doubt he would be as happy as he is. Being a cabinet minister isn ’ t that important to some people, Cousin. ”
    This was like telling a Rothschild that money wasn ’ t important. Salverton couldn ’ t understand how any man would not choose to be at the helm of the ship of state. What greater accomplishment had life to offer? His own ambition was to be prime minister one day. He was about to explain this to his cousin, when she stifled a yawn and snuggled into the corner to sleep.
    “ The sun has nearly set, ” she said. “ It ’ s been such a nerve-racking day that I feel sleepy. ”
    Salverton realized that he was likely to be up most of the night, and closed his eyes. He pondered their discussion as he tried to doze off. How could people be so unambitious? Overweening ambition, Miss Oakleigh had said. Was it immoderately ambitious of him to want to use his God-given talents to help make England a better place, and to give himself a place in the history books while he was about it?
    He thought, too, of Lady Louise and what she would do if rumors of this trip reached her ears. She would be demmed unhappy. He must make sure Louise didn ’ t get a look at Samantha, or she ’ d never believe it was all innocent. Carnford had taken one look and jumped to the obvious conclusion. A lady as pretty as Samantha had to be extra careful. If he ’ d let her come here alone, she would have had men falling over themselves in their eagerness to “ help ” her.
    And she was such a greenhead, she would have taken them at their word. She was completely out of her depth in the city. A feeling of protectiveness welled up in him as he watched her in the fading twilight, her horrid bonnet askew and her long eyelashes fanning her cheeks. She looked about ten years old. He unfolded the blanket and tenderly arranged it over her lap. The carriage had grown chilly as the sun set.
    They reached Brighton at eleven o ’ clock that night. Salverton directed his coachman to drive to a stable. Samantha woke up, covered her lips in a yawn, and said, “ Are we here? ” She noticed Salverton had placed the blanket over her and was surprised, but she didn ’ t mention it.
    “ We ’ re changing carriages, ” he said.
    “ You mean horses? ”
    “ That, too. ”
    When the change was made, he said to Samantha, “ You know the whereabouts of this house Sir Geoffrey owns? ”
    “ It is just to the east of Brighton, where the Marine Parade changes into — whatever it changes into. I cannot recall the name of the road. It is less than halfway to Rottingdean. Is that not a horrid name for a village? One imagines a dead dean decomposing. ” Seeing that Salverton was not interested in her imagination, she added, “ The cottage is right on the sea. ”
    “ Does it have a name? ”
    “ Yes, ” she said, and drew her brows together in a hard frown.
    “ Well, what is it? ” he asked impatiently.
    “ I am trying to think, if you ’ ll just be quiet, ” she said with matching impatience.
    Salverton glared, but she was paying him no heed. She had screwed her eyes shut to aid concentration.
    “ It has something to do with old Roman statues, like those damaged ones in your house, ” she said.
    “ My statues are Greek! ”
    “ You need not apologize,