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eyes brimmed with suppressed laughter as she scolded.
    Lord Eden grinned and winked at her.
    â€œYou are quite right,” she said when the performance had finished and the singers were taking their bows. “The singing was inferior.”
    It was pleasant at times, Lord Eden consoled himself after an evening in which he had hoped to sit beside Miss Simpson, to have a companion with whom he could relax, someone with whom he could share a joke, someone who knew how to laugh. If he really had sat beside Miss Simpson, he would probably have had to pretend raptures for very inferior vocalists. And perhaps he really would have had to lend that handkerchief.
    Charlie was a fortunate man. To have such a wife. And—of course—to have such a daughter.

    â€œI DO LIK e Mrs. Simpson a great deal,” the Countess of Amberley said to her husband later that night. “She is very sensible and very charming, is she not, Edmund?”
    â€œMm,” he said. He was lying in bed, his hands clasped behind his head, watching her brush her long dark hair, though her maid had already done it for her in her dressing room.
    â€œI wonder why she is married to Captain Simpson,” she said.
    â€œI suppose because he asked her and she said yes,” he said.
    The brush paused in her hair and she smiled at him. “You know what I mean,” she said. “It is rather a case of Beauty and the Beast, is it not?”
    â€œOoh,” he said. “Cruel, love. He is older than she is, yes.”
    â€œDominic has always been very fond of both of them,” she said. “I suppose they must be contented together if he enjoys their company.”
    â€œI would be a great deal more contented with you if you did not feel obliged to stand there brushing your hair,” he said. “A great deal more contented, Alex.”
    â€œSilly,” she said, putting down the brush and slipping beneath the blankets, which he held back for her. “Do you think Dominic is in love with Miss Simpson? She is a delight, is she not?”
    â€œMm,” he said. “But I have given up waiting for Dominic and Madeline to fall in love to stay. They don’t have my good sense.”
    â€œBut you were nine-and-twenty when you married me,” she said. “Only three years ago, love.”
    â€œWas I?” he said. “It must have been because you did not have the sense to meet me sooner, Alex.”
    â€œCaptain Simpson must be shy,” she said. “It was a pity he did not come tonight. Do you think Mrs. Simpson minded not having his company, Edmund?”
    â€œNo idea,” he said. “I would mind not having your company, but I can’t speak for anyone else.”
    â€œLieutenant Penworth is taken with Madeline,” she said. “But I think he is too young to interest her. What do you think?”
    â€œI think that I might wait all night for you to be finished with your mouth if I don’t take drastic measures,” he said. “Hush, love. I have better use for it.”
    â€œDo you?” she said. She smiled at him as he raised himself above her. “What?”
    He leaned right across her in order to blow out the candle on the table beside the bed. “This,” he said.
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    â€œO H , C HARLIE, YOU DO look splendid!” Ellen set her hands on the captain’s shoulders and stood back to look at him in his dress uniform, her eyes dancing with merriment. “And you do look as if you are about to face a firing squad.”
    He grinned sheepishly. “But you won’t expect me to dance, will you, Ellen?” he asked. “I will if you want me to, you know, and I’ll be there so that you can take my arm whenever you don’t have a partner. But I can’t dance, lass. My legs seem to turn into two stiff poles when I try.”
    â€œOf course you don’t have to dance,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “We decided that