Sherbrooke town house Putnam Place, London One week later

THE SHERBROOKE TOWN house, on the corner of Putnam Place, was a three-story Georgian mansion built in the middle of the last century by an earl of Northcliffe with far more money than good taste, or bon gout, as he was wont to shout out when he took his pleasure at Madame Orly's brothel. He was also the same earl who had filled the Northcliffe gardens with all the coupling Greek statuary. Sherbrooke children, adults, guests, servants, and the occasional tradesman had, for the past sixty-five years, spent hours staring at the naked marble men and women, all in the throes of physical endeavors. Meggie wished she could have met that earl. Neither Leo nor Max had ever let fall to their vicar father that their cousins, Uncle Douglas's boys, had quickly shown them the statues in the hidden part of the Northcliffe gardens, and how all four boys had gawked and made lewd remarks and studied the statues in great giggling detail for hours on end. None of them was stupid.

Meggie was just down the hall from her aunt Alex's bedchamber that adjoined to Uncle Douglas's in a lovely airy room that was all shades of peach and cream. She'd stayed in this same room since she'd been eight years old.

There came a light tap on the door.

"Enter," Meggie called out.

It was her aunt Alex, looking tussled and windblown and as happy as the spring sunshine because she'd been out riding early with Uncle Douglas in Hyde Park. They'd doubtless galloped to their heart's content because no one was about that early to see and remark upon such eccentric behavior. She was wearing a dark green riding habit that Uncle Douglas had presented her on her birthday. Her rich red hair had tumbled out of her stylish riding hat and was in curls and tangles down her back.