"Fat Harold." Her smile was fleetingly impish. "Forgive me, but he's really frightfully fat and he fancies himself a dandy as well. I couldn't imagine being married to him even if he were likable-which he isn't in the least." She sighed again. "I wish Grandpapa were still alive. Having his money is turning out to be terrifying."

"You could give it to your relatives."

"They're all hateful. I'd as soon give the money away on the street as hand it over to them. Besides, Grandpapa's charities have to be funded, especially his home for retired sailors, which takes enormous work to keep going, what with Mr. Gandy and Mrs. Thomas scrapping every day over the smallest administrative details. I'm sorry." Her fingers fluttered across her mouth like those of a child caught speaking out of turn. "As though the particulars of my life are of interest to you."

Molly gazed at the lush young woman who had appeared on her doorstep in a fashion those less pragmatic than she might have construed as miraculous. "I may have a solution to your problem." Ever the businesswoman, she recognized advantage in the unusual circumstances.

Isabella immediately leaned forward, her expression brightening. "Would you really? I've been unable to think of a means of extricating myself from this disaster. If I return home, my uncle will coerce me into that hateful marriage. Even if I find other quarters, he's sure to track me down. The courts, while just, I'm sure, can't protect me every minute, and Uncle Herbert wants Grandpapa's money so badly, he's not likely to leave me in peace."

"What I'm about to propose might curtail his interest in you as a marriage partner for"-Molly's mouth quirked faintly-"fat Harold."

"His son."

Molly nodded. "I suspected as much." Her gaze took on a sudden sharpness. "I don't mean to alarm you, but would your relatives inherit should you die?"

"No. Grandpapa's will is very clear. If I die without children, his fortune goes to his charities."