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patina of sophistication.” Lady Pomerancy gave a sharp nod. “Indeed, I could not be more pleased with you, Peter.”
    Mr. Hawkins was overcome. These were high accolades indeed from the stem lady who had been the guiding force of his formative years. He reached over to lift his grandmother’s misshapen fingers to his lips in grateful salute. Quietly he said, “I know full well that I could not have had a better guardian than yourself, ma’am. It was not an easy task to take on the upbringing and education of a five-year-old boy.”
    Lady Pomerancy shrugged. “I saw my duty, however. Was I to leave my orphaned grandson to the casual offices of my brother, Horace? That wastrel, that womanizer! Why, if you had not died of neglect first, you would have attained manhood with just as little notion of propriety and moral fortitude as that gentleman holds. No, I would not have it, even though Horace offered to take you on. Horace felt obligated, of course, since your father had been his heir.”
    Her ladyship reflected for a short moment. “I must give him credit for that much, I suppose, though I don’t doubt he would have regretted it within the hour. He was always one to speak first and to think last.”
    Mr. Hawkins smiled at this sharp analysis of his great-uncle, who was an extremely selfish gentleman beneath a bluff and good-natured exterior. “No, I would not have fared half so well at the viscount’s hands,” he agreed soberly.
    “No. Nor would you have flourished in Lord Waithe’s household,” said Lady Pomerancy. She said loftily, “I do not dislike my son-in-law. However, it has been my regret for these several years that his lordship lacks a certain quality that I deem essential in the well-rounded gentleman.”
    Since Lady Pomerancy’s irascible opinion regarding the Earl of Nottingbook’s limited intelligence had been openly and often expressed, Mr. Hawkins had little difficulty in interpreting her ladyship’s meaning. However, Lady Pomerancy’s reference did recall to him the short note that he had received. “By the by, I have had word from Percy. He wishes to come down from London to visit with us. I trust that will not put you out, my lady?”
    “You must have whomever you wish, Peter. By all means, let Percy rusticate with us,” said Lady Pomerancy cordially. “However, pray do not expect me to bestow a perpetual smile or nod on your cousin’s rattle-pated prattle. He is as cloth-headed as his father and sports-mad, as well. I shall not pretend to you, or to that nodcock for that matter, that I enjoy constant babblings about this race or that.”
    “Percy mentioned nothing about a race, ma’am, so you may rest easy,” said Mr. Hawkins soothingly.
    However, there was such a pronounced twinkle in his eyes that it made Lady Pomerancy slant a shrewd glance at him. “Then it is hunting or fisticuffs that brings him, for I am certain that it is not my company that he seeks out.”
    “You are perfectly right on all counts, ma’am, as always,” said Mr. Hawkins politely.
    “Aye, I do not doubt it in the least,” retorted Lady Pomerancy. “The pair of you share at least one quality, my dear. Percy also is the politest of creatures when it suits him.”
    “My cousin goes in abject terror of your frowns, ma’am,” assured Mr. Hawkins.
    “Does he, indeed.” Lady Pomerancy was openly pleased. “Percy has a degree of intelligence I had not heretofore suspected. Of course you must have him here, my dear. I will not have it said that I turned away any member of my family out of sheer prejudice, however justifiable.”
    Mr. Hawkins rose to his feet. He bent to kiss her ladyship’s cheek. “I shall write Percy at once and relay your kind forbearance, my lady.”
    “Rogue.” Lady Pomerancy waved him away, hiding the pleasure that she took in his fond salute. “I cannot conceive what it is that you have found in Percy besides an amusing rattle-pate.”
    “No, I do not suppose that you