'Lucas.' She had spirit this one. Will outranked every other guest and his host. That made Lucas the top dog amongst the servants, yet she did not appear to be awed by that fact. 'You may call me Mr Lucas,' he added, more to see her reaction than anything.

'Yes, Mr Lucas,' she replied meekly, confounding him by finally recognising her place. 'And thank you for showing me this brush; it has done the job perfectly.' She folded the garment over her arm and moved towards him and the door beyond. Lucas shifted round his work table as though to find a better angle and blocked her path.

'A demanding young lady, is she? Your Miss Maylin?'

'Not at all. She's as meek as meek-quite a milksop. Not like some I could mention.' There was suppressed amusement lurking in those hazel eyes, which was odd. He wondered what-or who-she was thinking of. 'Of course,' Daisy added thoughtfully, 'there is her stepmother to contend with.'

'Indeed?' Lucas lifted one leg of the breeches and frowned at the knee laces, hoping he looked as though he knew what he was doing. 'Could I trouble you to pass that small brush at the end, Miss Daisy?' Partly it was a tactic to keep her there talking, and partly because he enjoyed the sight of her moving about with a grace that must have been instilled along with her lessons with the young ladies. A family by-blow, perhaps? he speculated. 'Is her stepmother difficult?'

'Terrible. Ghastly, vulgar creature,' Daisy confided with some relish. 'Unfortunately Miss Maylin is devoted to her. It is the greatest good fortune, in my opinion, that she did not accompany us here-although poor Miss Maylin is almost prostrated with nerves without her support. She is hopeless in Society. I said to her, Your husband is not going to like it if you insist on your stepmama living with you when you are wed. That upset her, believe me.'