"Enough, Althea," her husband snapped. "Max might have been a wastrel, but he was a Collins, and Maxima is his daughter. I have seen no deficiencies in either her manners or her understanding. Indeed, she has been far more of a lady to you than you and Portia have been to her."

"Not an hour since, she threatened Portia with a bow and arrow! I live in terror that she will run mad and murder us in our beds. If you won't get rid of her, I will."

"Just be patient. We can present her in London next spring when she comes out of mourning for her father. Rosalind will be old enough to bring out then, so we can fire off all three girls together. With her looks, Maxima will have no trouble finding a suitable husband."

Maxie's recoil at the thought of a London season was profound, but it paled next to her aunt's reaction. Lady Collingwood gasped. "You can't possibly expect me to present her with our daughters! The idea is unthinkable."

"I can and do expect it. There's nothing unthinkable about presenting cousins together."

"We can't keep her here for a full year," his wife said in a voice that could have scratched glass. "Marcus will return from his Grand Tour soon, and you know how susceptible he is. Are you prepared to risk your son becoming infatuated with his cousin? Would you welcome the little savage as a daughter in law?"

After a long silence, her husband said in a shaken voice, "It is not the match I would wish for him."

Lady Collingwood made a reply, her voice blurred as if she were moving away from the door.

It didn't matter, for Maxie had heard more than enough. Feeling nauseated, she retraced the route to her room, forcing herself to walk slowly. After locking her door, she collapsed on her bed and curled into a tight, shuddering ball while she tried to make sense of what she had overheard.