"Did you know my father?" I asked.

"Not at all, actually. He, too, passed on, not long after I arrived." Reaves stared at me a moment, as though reconciling himself to the fact that he now, in theory at least, worked for me.

Grenville rose, helped himself to port, and removed a snuffbox from his pocket. He opened it, one-handed, and held it out to me. I declined, not much caring for snuff.

"No doubt the captain would prefer a pipe," Rafe Godwin said, grinning. "Shall we ask our hostess if she can locate a corncob?"

Baiting the yokel was to be Godwin's entertainment for the evening, I saw. After all, I wore old regimentals and had arrived in a cart, late and covered with mud. Perhaps I ought to be chewing on a straw.

I got up and made my way to the humidor on the sideboard. "I do like a pipe, it is true," I said. "But I will make do with what our hostess has provided." I chose a cheroot, rolled it between my fingers, and lit it from a candle on the table.

Grenville took a pinch snuff from his fingertips, wiped his nose with a silk handkerchief, and ignored Godwin. I seated myself in the chair Lady Southwick had vacated.

Godwin began a raucous conversation with the other gentlemen, and Grenville leaned to me. "I can only say, thank God you are here, Lacey. The company, apart from Lady Breckenridge, is appalling."

"You did not need to accept the invitation," I said. "I am amazed you did."

"It was Lady Breckenridge's invitation. I imagine she was as appalled as I and needed reinforcements. While Lord Southwick is away, Lady Southwick is free to have as many house parties as she pleases. Notice the high proportion of gentlemen to ladies."

I had noticed. Three ladies to seven gentlemen, including myself.

"Lady Southwick does not like to share," Grenville said. "But it would not look well for her if she had no ladies in the party at all."