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at me.”
    Ottoline began searching for her handkerchief. Valin found it for her, and she covered her nose with it.
    “I know what you think of me, Nephew. You think me a ridiculous old woman, and perhaps I am. But I love you, and I’ve tried to help you.”
    It was Valin’s turn to redden. All this time he’d thought only of his own difficulties while making his aunt suffer for her good-hearted attempts to help him.
    “I’m a swine, Aunt. Can you forgive me?”
    Ottoline’s face had gone pale. “Nephew, I really cannot go on with this misery.” She touchedhis hand and he felt how cold hers was. “You like none of the girls I invited?”
    Shaking his head, Valin felt a stab of guilt when his aunt’s eyes filled with tears. He felt even worse when she began to sob. This wasn’t the theatrical crying of a spoiled woman, but the sincere weeping of a lady who felt defeat.
    “Don’t cry, Aunt.” Dear God, he was a monster. “I promise, I’ll choose from among the next group to whom you introduce me.”
    This only brought a wail and renewed weeping. At a loss, Valin searched for the scent bottle. It had fallen on the carpet, and as he picked it up, Valin’s glance fell upon the papers that incriminated Emily de Winter. An idea leaped into his head, and Valin didn’t pause to examine its consequences. He would pretend to become engaged. Then Aunt would be satisfied, and he could search for a bride without interference, without Society’s glaring attention. He’d been unwise to do anything else.
    “Please, Aunt, don’t upset yourself. I—I was going to wait until I’d settled everything, but since you’re so distressed, I’ll tell you now. I’m going to marry Emily de Winter.”
    Ottoline’s sniffles ceased abruptly. She blinked wetly at him. “Miss de Winter? Are you mad? She’s almost foreign, and we barely know her.”
    “I barely know any of the girls you’ve thrown at—asked me to consider.”
    “But, Valin, there are so many other more suitable young ladies.”
    “Now, Aunt, you were just in a terrible state because I wouldn’t decide. Well, I have decided, and that’s that.”
    Ottoline sat up and sniffed. “I don’t believe you.”
    “What? Why not?”
    “Emily is presentable, but not nearly the beauty your rank requires in a wife, and she has none of the connections that would recommend her to the family. Why would your eye fall on her?”
    “Why?” Valin’s mind went blank for a moment. He hadn’t expected her to disbelieve him. “Why—er … Because we’re in love, deeply and passionately in love.”
    Ottoline frowned at him. “You haven’t acted like you’re in love.”
    “Been hiding it.”
    “Why?”
    “Wanted to be sure first.”
    His aunt leaned toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “Are you certain, Nephew? I shouldn’t want you to make a bad marriage out of a whim.”
    “I’m sure,” Valin said. “I’m in love, like Romeo, Othello, King Arthur.”
    “Valin, those people all died, and anyway, they’re not real.”
    “I know what I’m doing. Depend upon it.”
    “The rest of the family will not approve.”
    “I don’t care.”
    Fanning her face with her handkerchief, Ottoline rose. “I know you don’t, Valin. But if you’ve chosen the wrong girl, you’ll soon care, very much indeed.”

7

    Emmie plopped to the floor in the middle of her crinoline and petticoats, blew a stray tendril of hair off her nose, and groaned.
    “What am I going to do, Betsy?”
    Betsy was standing on a chair holding a traveling skirt in her outstretched arms. “About what, ’is lordship?”
    “No, not him! What makes you say him? Why should I be worried about him? I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about finding the gold.”
    “I looked everywhere below-stairs,” Betsy said. “There ain’t no spirals in the servants’ areas. Come on, now. You got to hook it if you’re going to be ready for that carriage drive with yer follower.”
    Emmie popped