"I do dislike it when you scold me, Gussie," Charlotte pouted.

"Then amend your behavior, my darling, and I shall not have to do so," her wise spouse replied, and gave her another kiss.

"I shall be glad when we are finally alone," Charlotte told him. "I will enjoy these next few weeks before we go up to town, with just you for company, Gussie. And if we are fortunate your sister, Sirena, will find a proper husband, and not return to Rowley Hall at all." She sighed. "Of course we shall still have your mama in the dower house."

The marquess laughed. Had he not found the sparring between his mother and his wife so damned amusing, he might have been annoyed. They were, however, quite entertaining; his mother trying to adjust to being a dowager; his wife so eager to be lady of the manor. He was concerned that Charlotte had not conceived yet, but the Duchess of Devonshire had been a slow breeder, too. Only the presence of a son and a daughter among his cottagers reassured him that he, himself, was capable of siring children. When his wife was more secure she would certainly give him children.


***

Lord Morgan's coach appeared at Rowley Hall exactly one week later, just after first light. It was a magnificent vehicle, shiny black with silver fittings, and Lord Morgan's coat of arms-a gold sailing ship upon an azure background, three gold stars and a silver crescent moon above it-painted upon each of the carriage doors. Inside, the seats were fashioned of fawn-colored leather and pale blue velvet. There were crystal and gold oil lamps set on either side of the comfortably padded benches, and small silver floral vases filled with daffodils, fern, and white heather. The coachmen and two grooms wore elegant black and silver livery. Even Charlotte was impressed, if not just a trifle envious.

The luggage was carefully loaded by the grooms. The coachman remained in his place atop the box controlling the four dappled gray horses with the black manes who danced and snorted, obviously impatient to get going again. Lady Abbott and Sirena exited the house, accompanied by their personal maids. Both were garbed in fine fur-collared wool mantles over their gowns.

"Good-bye, my dear," Lady Abbott said to her son, kissing him.

"I shall look forward to seeing you in London, Mama," the young marquess said with a twinkle.

"Do some serious ploughing with Charlotte while you are alone, and have the time," she advised him pithily. "It is past time the wench did her duty by Rowley, Gussie." She kissed him again, and then allowed one of the grooms to help her into the vehicle.

Actually blushing, the marquess quickly turned to his sister, who having heard their mother's remark was hard-pressed not to giggle. "Good-bye, little one," he told her. "Good hunting!"

"Oh, Gussie, you make it sound so… so… so common!" she replied.

"It will be fun, I promise, but take Charlotte's advice and trust no other maiden except Allegra. The husband hunt is not for the faint of heart, sister." He kissed her on both cheeks, then helped her into the carriage where her mother and the two maids were already seated. "Good-bye! Good-bye!" the Marquess of Rowley called to his female relations as the vehicle pulled away, and the horses trotted quite smartly down the drive.

"Good-bye! Good-bye!" Sirena called, leaning out the window until her outraged mother yanked her back inside.

"Behave yourself, girl!" the dowager said sharply. "Your hoyden-ish days are over now, and you must grow up."

"Yes, Mama," Sirena replied, just slightly chastened.

They traveled the twenty miles separating Rowley Hall and Morgan Court, arriving by midday. As their carriage drew to a stop the two grooms jumped down from their outside seat behind the coach, and hurried to open the door and lower the step, allowing the passengers to descend. Charles Trent, Lord Morgan's steward, hurried from the house to welcome them. He was a distinguished gentleman of indeterminate years with a serious demeanor and quietly graying brown hair. He kissed Lady Abbott's hand as he bowed, and then Lady Sirena's.

"Welcome to Morgan Court. His lordship has already returned to London, but he left me behind to see to your comfort. Let us go into the house. I know that Miss Allegra is eagerly awaiting her cousin."

They had no sooner entered the building when Allegra Morgan appeared and threw herself into her cousin's arms with a shriek of delight. "Wait until I tell you!" she said excitedly. "Madame Paul has sent down her chief assistant, Mademoiselle Francine, to take our measurements and show us fabric samples!" Then remembering her manners she detached herself from Sirena's embrace, and curtsied to Lady Abbott. "Good day, Aunt," she said. "I am most pleased to see you have arrived. Papa has asked me to tender his greetings, and say he looks forward to seeing you in London." She kissed the older woman upon the cheek.

"Thank you, m'dear," Lady Abbott said, feeling a warmth in her cheeks, and wondering if the others had noticed.

"Luncheon is served, m'lady," Pearson, the butler, came to announce as the travelers' cloaks were taken away.

"Will you join us, Mr. Trent?" Lady Abbott asked. She knew that such was the steward's high position that he frequently came to table with the family while they were in the country.

"Thank you, madame, but I do have work to be completed today. I will, however, join you at supper. When the young ladies are ready they may go upstairs where Mademoiselle Francine is awaiting them in the Primrose chamber." He bowed politely, and hurried off.

"Such a lovely man," Lady Abbott said. "What a pity he is the fourth son. His parents are the Earl and Countess of Chamberlain, y'know. The eldest son, Francis Trent, will inherit, of course." She allowed Pearson to seat her, and then lowering her voice said, "He gambles, I'm sorry to say. The Earl of Chamberlain is constantly paying off his debts. The second son is out in India with the army, a colonel, I believe I heard. The third has an excellent pulpit in Nottingham. Both of them have married heiresses as they should have and consequently give their parents no trouble. The eldest has such an unsavory reputation that they cannot even find a wife for him. Imagine!

"And then there is Charles Trent. Beautifully educated at Harrow, and at Cambridge; a man with exquisite manners, and an instinctive sense of what is correct. Fortunately your father found him twelve years ago, and employed him. Being steward to Septimius Morgan is an honorable profession for a man of Charles Trent's superior breeding. I do not know what Septimius would do without him. He manages both the London house and this one. He handles the household accounts, engages any new staff, pays the wages, is responsible in fact for the entire staff. And he is your father's personal secretary as well. How he does it, I do not know. A lovely man," she repeated. Then Lady Abbott dipped her spoon into the turtle soup that had just been ladled into her plate, and began to eat.

Allegra looked archly at her cousin, and Sirena had to stifle her giggle. The two girls ate scantily and quickly, in order to be swiftly excused from the table that they might go to Mademoiselle Fran-cine. But Lady Abbott understood their excitement, and released them before the sweet and the cheese were served. They both rose slowly, attempting not to appear too eager. Then they curtsied, and walked carefully from the dining room through the doors the liveried footman held open. As the doors closed behind them Allegra and Sirena looked at each other, and then raced for the stairs. Stepping from his office, Charles Trent saw them, and smiled.

They burst noisily into the Primrose chamber where Mademoiselle Francine was waiting. The Frenchwoman arose, and looked disapprovingly at them, shaking a finger.

"Mademoiselles! Are you horses that you clomp?"

"Forgive us, mademoiselle," Sirena said politely. "We are so anxious to have you measure us so our gowns may be made!"

"Ahh," the lady replied with a small smile. "Well then, come, mes petites, and let us get your gowns off so I may ascertain what we have to work with. You are both very different. Are you related?"

"We are first cousins," Allegra said. "I am Allegra Morgan, and this is Lady Sirena Abbott."

"Thank you, mademoiselle," the Frenchwoman replied.

Allegra walked to the bellpull, and yanked upon it several times. She told the footman who answered her call, "Fetch Honor at once and Lady Sirena's maid, Damaris, as well."

"Yes, Miss Allegra," the footman replied, and hurried off.

"You have samples, Mademoiselle Francine, that you wish to show us? We might look while waiting for our maids," Allegra said.

Well, Mademoiselle Francine thought as she brought forth her box of samples, she has the manner of a duchess for all she is just plain Miss Morgan. "We have just obtained a marvelous selection of silks and satins from France. They shall be quite sought after, you understand, Miss Morgan."

"We shall buy the entire bolts of whatever we choose," Allegra said matter-of-factly. "I should not like to see myself coming and going, nor would my cousin. Ahh," she held up a clear pink striped silk, "this would be perfect for you, Sirena! It favors your coloring."

"The whole holt of each fabric you choose?" The Frenchwoman was absolutely astounded. These fabrics did not come cheap, for they had to be smuggled into England as France was no longer a civilized country in which to live, or do business.

"Yes," Allegra said. "Is there some difficulty in my request?"

"I must ask Madame Paul, Mademoiselle Morgan. Never have I heard of such a thing!"

"It must be," Allegra said firmly. "I am certain that Papa will make it well worth Madame Paul's while to cooperate, but if she feels she cannot meet our wishes, I can always obtain my fabrics elsewhere. Of course I would want Madame Paul to do our gowns. We will send a message to London to ascertain your employer's desires in the matter. Will that be satisfactory, Mademoiselle Francine?"

The modiste nodded weakly. "Of course, Mademoiselle Morgan," she replied. This innocent-looking girl was going to be a power to be reckoned with one day. She sat silently now as the two young girls pored over her fabric samples, not even daring to make suggestions. The Morgan girl obviously knew what she wanted, and she was not hesitant about telling her pretty cousin what would be suitable for her either. Oddly enough, the country-bred miss had excellent taste.

There was a knock upon the chamber's door, and it opened to admit two young women in maid's garb.

"Ahh," Allegra said smiling, "here are Honor and Damaris. Come, lasses, and help us to disrobe so Mademoiselle Francine can obtain the measurements she will need."

The servants quickly did her bidding. Shortly both Allegra and Sirena were standing in their lawn chemises. The Frenchwoman took her measurements, working quickly for she suspected that Allegra would have difficulty standing still for very long. She carefully wrote each figure down upon a clean sheet of parchment. "Neither of you will need a corset," she told them.

"I wouldn't wear one even if told I had to," Allegra announced.

"You may change your mind one day, Mademoiselle Morgan," the modiste told her with a small smile. "Voilà! It is finished!"

"You will return to London tomorrow?" Allegra asked her.

"Oui, mademoiselle, I will," was the polite reply.

"Then you will take my instructions regarding the bolts of fabric from Mr. Trent to your mistress. If she does not wish to cooperate with us, then I must go to the mercers who import through Papa's firm. I should, however, hate to lose that wonderful forest green silk. It will make me a most marvelous riding outfit, don't you think? I can just see the jacket with the gold frogs below my cream silk stock."

The modiste smiled. "You have not only an excellent eye for color, but for style as well, mademoiselle," she told Allegra.

"Thank you," was the quiet reply.


***

When Mademoiselle Francine reached London several days later she told Madame Paul of her conversation with Allegra Morgan. Madame laughed to her friend's surprise.

"And what did Monsieur Trent say?" she asked Francine.