"Don't be such a snob, Bain," the viscount said. "With a father as rich as Croesus, and a duke for a grandfather, she will surely pass muster. The bluer-blooded gels ain't got dowries big enough to help Quint. This could be a perfect match."

"I knew her brother slightly," Lord Walworth said helpfully. "A nice chap, exquisite manners and always paid his debts promptly."

"Did you ever see her?" the duke asked.

Lord Walworth shook his head. "She's a country mouse, I'm given to understand. Never been up to London although her sire has a big house on Berkley Square."

"I wonder if she's pretty," the duke mused.

"All little kitties purr the same in the dark, Quint," the earl noted practically.

"True, but one must sit opposite them at the dinner table," the duke quickly riposted, and his friend laughed.

"So we are agreed then, gentlemen," the viscount said. "We are to seek suitable brides next season, and marry at long last. Just think, Quint, when Hunter's Lair is in prime condition again, what parties you will give for us all!"

"What parties his wife will give," Lord Walworth said gloomily, "and our wives had best be in her favor, or we won't get invited."

"You will always be welcome at Hunter's Lair, Dree; and Ocky and Bain, too. Remember, a man is master of his own house. You are my best friends, and have been since our days at Eton. That is not going to change because of a mere woman. Now," he banged his goblet upon the scarred oak table and shouted, "Crofts! Where is dinner?"

"I'll bring it right in, Your Grace," the manservant said with a bow. "Mrs. Crofts didn't want the venison to be overcooked." He hurried out of the paneled old Great Hall where the dukes and earls of Sedgwick had dined for centuries.