'em either."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lady Benborough considered this view. "Can't see it myself," she admitted. "Henry always was a slow-top. Who are they?"

"The Misses Twinning. From Hertfordshire." Max proceeded to give her a brief r6sume of the life

history of the Twinnings, ending with the information that it transpired all four girls were heiresses.

Augusta Benborough was taken aback. "And you say they're beautiful to boot?"

"The one I've seen, Caroline, the eldest, most definitely is."

"Well, if anyone should know it's you!" replied her ladyship testily. Max acknowledged the comment

with the slightest inclination of his head.

Lady Benborough's mind was racing. "So, what do you want with me?"

"What I would like, dearest Aunt," said Max, with his sweetest smile, "is for you to act as chaperon to

the girls and present them to the ton." Max paused. His aunt said nothing, sitting quite still with her

sharp blue eyes, very like his own, fixed firmly on his face. He continued. "I'm opening up Twyford House. It'll be ready for them tomorrow. I'll stand the nonsense- all of it." Still she said nothing.

"Will you do it?"

Augusta Benborough thought she would like nothing better than to be part of the hurly-burly of the marriage game again. But four? All at once? Still, there was Max's backing, and that would count for a good deal. Despite his giving the distinct impression of total uninterest in anything other than his own pleasure, she knew from experience that, should he feel inclined, Max could and would perform feats impossible for those with lesser clout in the fashionable world. Years after the event, she had learned

that, when her youngest son had embroiled himself in a scrape so hideous that even now she shuddered

to think of it, it had been Max who had rescued him. And apparently for no better reason than it had