"No need for that, Whitticombe," Minnie cut in. "What would I do without your erudite company?" She looked up at Vane, on her other side. "You take the chair at the head, dear boy." She held his gaze; Vane raised a brow, then bowed-Minnie tugged and he leaned closer. "I need a man I can trust sitting there."

Minnie's whisper reached only him; Vane inclined his head slightly and straightened. As he strolled down the room, he studied the seating arrangements-Patience had already claimed the chair to the left of his alloted place, with Henry Chadwick beside her. Edith was settling in opposite Patience while Edgar was making for the next seat along. Nothing in the arrangement suggested a reason for Minnie's comment; Vane couldn't imagine that Minnie, with wits like quicksilver, thought her niece, presently armored in cold steel, could possibly need protection from the likes of Colby.

Which meant Minnie's utterance had some deeper meaning; Vane inwardly sighed, and made a mental note to ferret it out. Before he escaped from Bellamy Hall.

The first course was served the instant they all sat. Minnie's cook was excellent; Vane applied himself to the meal with unfeigned appreciation.

Edgar started the conversational ball rolling. "Heard that the Whippet's odds on for the Guineas."

Vane shrugged. "There's been a lot of blunt laid on Blackamoor's Boy and Huntsman's well fancied, too."

"Is it true," Henry Chadwick asked, "that the Jockey Club's thinking of changing their rules?"

The ensuing discussion even drew a tittering comment from Edith Swithins: "Such fanciful names you gentlemen give the horses. Never anything like Goldie, or Muffins, or Blacky."

Neither Vane, Edgar, or Henry felt qualified to take that point further.

"I had heard," Vane drawled, "that the Prince Regent's battling debtors again."

"Again?" Henry shook his head. "A spendthrift through and through."