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eyes, just as it did Harriet's.
    Effie gazed at the fallen housekeeper with acute alarm. "Oh, dear. Not again."
    Felicity came into the hall behind her aunt, closed the door, and glanced at Mrs. Stone. "Good heavens. Another bout of the vapors. What on earth caused it this time? Something more interesting than last time, I trust. On that occasion I believe she was felled by nothing more than the news that Lady Barker's oldest daughter had managed to secure herself a wealthy merchant for a husband."
    "Well, he was in trade, after all," Aunt Effie reminded her. "You know very well that Mrs. Stone has a nice appreciation of the importance of maintaining one's proper station in life. Annabelle Barker descended from a very good family. Mrs. Stone was quite right to feel the girl could have done better for herself than to marry a cit."
    "If you ask me, Annabelle did very well indeed," Felicity declared in her typically pragmatic manner. "Her husband dotes on her and has given her an unlimited allowance. They live in a fine house in London and have two carriages and lord only knows how many servants. Annabelle is set for life."
    Harriet grinned as she held the vinaigrette under Mrs. Stone's nose again. "And in addition to all that, one hears that Annabelle is also madly in love with her rich merchant. I agree with you, Felicity. She has not done so badly. But do not expect Aunt Effie and our Mrs. Stone to ever see it from our point of view."
    "No good will come of that alliance," Aunt Effie predicted. "It never pays to allow a young girl to follow her heart. Especially when it takes her straight down the social ladder."
    "So you have frequently told us, Aunt Effie." Felicity considered Mrs. Stone. "Well, what did happen this time?"
    Before Harriet could respond, Mrs. Stone blinked and sat up with a painful effort. "The Beast of Blackthorne Hall is back," she intoned.
    "Good lord," Effie said, amazed. "What on earth is she talking about?"
    "The demon has returned to the scene of his crime," Mrs. Stone continued.
    "Who in the world is the Beast of Blackthorne Hall?" Felicity asked.
    "St. Justin." Mrs. Stone moaned. "How dare he? How dare he come back here? And how dare he threaten Miss Harriet?"
    Felicity glanced at Harriet, eyes wide with interest. "Good heavens. Viscount St. Justin was here?"
    "Yes, he was," Harriet admitted.
    Aunt Effie's mouth fell open. "The viscount was here? Right here in this house?"
    "That is correct," Harriet said. "Now, Aunt Effie, if you and Felicity will kindly restrain your astonishment, perhaps we can see about getting Mrs. Stone back on her feet."
    "Harriet, I do not want to believe this," Aunt Effie said in a horrified voice. "Are you telling me that the most important landholder in this district, an actual viscount who is in line for an earldom, paid a call upon us and you received him dressed as you are now? Wearing that filthy old apron and that ghastly gown that should have been redyed months ago?"
    "He just happened to be passing by," Harriet explained, trying for a blithe tone.
    "Just happened to be passing by?" Felicity burst into laughter. "Really, Harriet, viscounts and the like never 'just happen to be passing' our little cottage."
    "Why not?" Harriet demanded testily. "Blackthorne Hall is his home and it is not all that far from here."
    "Viscount St. Justin has never even bothered to come to Upper Biddleton, let alone pass by our house, in the entire five years we've lived here. Indeed, Papa said he only met St. Justin's father, the earl himself, a single time. That was in London when Hardcastle appointed him rector and gave him the living of this parish."
    "Felicity, you must take my word for it. St. Justin was indeed here and it was a simple social call," Harriet said firmly. "It seems perfectly natural to me that he would pay a visit to his family's estates in this district."
    "They say in the village that St. Justin never comes to Upper Biddleton. That he hates the sight of the place."