"A wise decision," Vaughn granted. "If you persist in going forward with the plan, I suggest you set one of your entourage to the task. Dorrington, for one, appears in need of occupation."

Jane gave a slight shake of her head. "Unlike Dorrington, you have something Miss Alsworthy wants."

Jane didn't need to specify. Her meaning was horrifyingly clear. Vaughn could feel the parson's noose dangling just shy of his neck.

"Which," replied Vaughn pointedly, just in case Jane had forgotten certain crucial facts, "she is not going to get."

"No," agreed Jane. "And yet…"

Vaughn polished the lens of his quizzing glass, squinted critically at it, and swiped at an invisible blemish. "Yet, my dear Miss Wooliston, is a treacherous jade. She'll lead you astray if you let her."

"Yet" kept men gambling when they ought to have thrown in their cards; it outfitted expeditions for cities of gold and fountains of youth; it dulled the critical faculties with false promises, as bright and baseless as the towered palaces of an opium dreamer's paradise. Yet led one into absurd situations such as this.

Jane wagged an admonishing finger. "You have a very low opinion of conjunctions."

"Of all kinds." His brief marriage had been enough to convince him of that.

"No one is suggesting you engage in a conjunction of a permanent sort," said Jane mildly. "I'm sure we could persuade Miss Alsworthy to lend us her talents with less drastic inducements. And she would be perfect for our purposes."

"You mean, for your purposes."

Knowing well the power of judicious silence, Jane chose not to answer. She simply continued to look at him, with an expression of calm conviction designed to persuade most men that they had always agreed with her in the first place and were simply being given time to voice it. Vaughn had to admire her cheek. It was one of the few reasons he tolerated her. Her complete lack of interest in his matrimonial value was another.