'To learn to be a dresser? Surely it must be? How hard can it be?'

'Miss Maylin? You cannot be serious-have you met her mother?' Lucas Dacre, Viscount Stoneley, crossed one booted foot over the other and stared at his friend. 'She's the most vulgar, scheming creature in creation.'

'Stepmother, I understand. But how do you know her? You've hardly been back in the country ten days.' The Earl of Danescroft raised an eyebrow. It was the greatest show of emotion he had exhibited since he had wrung Lucas's hand three days before. Lucas kept his own face bland, hiding his anxiety at the change in his friend. The last time he had seen him, five years before, he had been his groomsman and had danced at his wedding.

Now Will was gaunt, unsmiling, his expressive brown eyes shuttered, and all the joy had gone out of him. It was hardly surprising: Lucas had spent several hours at his club, buried in the newspaper archives, familiarising himself with the scandal Will obviously had no wish to speak about.

He had not been surprised to discover that Belle had proved to be as careless with her husband's heart and honour as she had with his money. He had tried to hint at her character when he had seen Will becoming attached-it had led to the only row they had ever had and he had held his peace from then on. I told you so was not going to be helpful now.

'I went to a reception at Fotheringham's last night. Frightful bore, but I promised Mama I'd look them up when I was in Town. Lady Maylin was such a sight- all purple satin and plumes and vulgarity-that I asked who she was. Then I overheard her in loud conversation with her cronies. Such a catch she had engineered for her dear Penelope. Such wealth, such a lineage. I removed myself-if I had known she was talking about you I would have stayed longer behind my potted fern.'

The Earl grimaced. 'My grandmother has assured me she will not be invited to Tollesbury.'