Nellie humphed but didn't argue. She started to brush Alathea's long hair.

Closing her eyes, Alathea relaxed. She excelled at charades; she could think herself into a part very well, as long as she understood the character. In this case, that was easy. "I kept to the truth as far as possible-he truly thinks I'm a countess."

Nellie humphed. "I still can't see why you couldn't simply write him a nice letter, asking him to look into this company for you."

"Because I would have had to sign it 'Alathea Morwellan.'"

"He would have done it, I'm sure."

"Oh, he wouldn't have refused, but what he would have done was refer it to his agent-that Mr. Montague. Without telling Rupert why it's so desperately needful to prove this company a fraud, it wouldn't have seemed important-important enough to stir him personally to action."

"I can't see why you don't just tell him-"

"No!" Eyes opening, Alathea straightened. For an instant, the lines between mistress and maid were clear-there in the matriarchal light in Alathea's eyes, in her stern expression, and in the suddenly wary look in Nellie's face.

Alathea let her expression ease; she hesitated, but Nellie was the only one with whom she dared discuss her plans, the only one who knew them all. The only one she trusted with them all. While she suspected that meant she was trusting the entire little band downstairs, as the others never presumed to mention it, she could live with that. She had to talk to someone. Drawing in a breath, she settled on the stool. "Believe it or not, Nellie, I still have my pride." She shut her eyes as Nellie resumed her brushing. "Sometimes, I think it's all I truly have left. I won't risk it by telling even him all. No one knows just how close to ruin we came-what depth of ruin we now face."