Denis would have liked to believe that, but he couldn't. But he couldn't explain his conviction any clearer either, so he let the subject drop.

"Have you kissed her?" Crispin demanded with the irritability of envy.

"A peck on the cheek," Denis said. It was impossible, too, to put into words his knowledge that however willing Chloe was to play games with him, there was a line she wouldn't cross. At least, not voluntarily.

"I don't want to frighten her by being too insistent," he explained.

"There'll be plenty of time for that," Jasper said. He straightened and stretched, wandering over to the window. How long before the snow abated? It was the devil's own luck, a snowstorm this early in December. But it shouldn't take hold and they'd be on the road within the week.

.Hugo let himself into the house that same afternoon, reflecting that this was an evening they would all spend within doors. No one in their right minds would put their horses to the shafts in these conditions unless it was a matter of life or death.

He closed the door behind him, wondering where Samuel was. Two of Beatrice's offspring playing tag raced through the hall, skittering on the polished wood as they ran between his legs before bounding up the stairs. He picked up the letters on the console table and riffled through them. After a minute, it occurred to him that the house was strangely quiet. And for once there was no evidence of Denis DeLacy in temporary residence, he thought grimly, going into the library.

The fire had been allowed to go down and he frowned, bending to throw another log on the glowing embers. Where was everyone? He didn't have a large household, but it was surely large enough to ensure that the fires could be kept in, particularly on a day like this.

He strode into the hall and bellowed for Samuel. There was no immediate response and then suddenly Chloe appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hugo!" Her voice cracked, filled with tears, and he strode to the bottom of the stairs.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" The rarely used endearment went unnoticed by either of them.

She flew down the stairs and into his arms. "It's Peg," she sobbed against his chest. "She's gone."

"Gone… gone where?"

"I don't know! She can't read or write, so she couldn't leave a note… and she didn't say anything. She's just disappeared."

"Now, just a minute." Hugo stood her upright and pulled out his handkerchief. "I can't hear a word when you're mumbling into my chest. Start at the beginning."

"There isn't a beginning," she said, taking his handkerchief but not using it, so the tears still poured unchecked down her cheeks. "She's just gone, that's all. Out into the snow. And she's left the baby. Why? Why

would she do something so silly, Hugo? She'll freeze to death."

"She's left the baby?" Hugo struggled to absorb this.

"Yes. Just walked away and left her."

"God's grace," he muttered. "Now I'm responsible for a foundling as well as a menagerie."

"How can you be so heartless!" Chloe exclaimed through her tears. "Peg's out there in all that snow…"

"Of her own free will, lass," Hugo reminded her. Taking her arm, he eased her into the library, closing the door behind them. "She wasn't happy here."

"I know, but why wasn't she?" Chloe huddled over the fire. "I don't understand it. She had plenty to eat and drink, and warm clothes, and… and a home. Why would she walk away from that?"

"Come here." Hugo sat down on the couch and drew Chloe backward, pulling her onto his lap. "I know it's hard to accept, but you can't save the world, not even with a heart as big as yours."

"I know I can't," she said, gulping. "I just want to save some of it."

He held her tightly for a minute, then took the neglected handkerchief from her and mopped her tears. "Blow your nose."

She did so vigorously and then leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I wish she hadn't gone out in the snow. Why wouldn't she wait… I don't understand, Hugo. What could have driven her?"

"I don't really know," he said, stroking her hair away from her brow. "But people do things we can't understand sometimes. Peg lives on the streets. It's what she knows. There must be people out there she knows… there was a grandmother, wasn't there?"

"Her nan," Chloe said. "She said she could sometimes sleep in the washhouse… but why would she want to do that when she could be warm and dry here? It's not sensible."

"Impulses usually aren't. But you have to remember that Peg knows that world out there. It's her world." He traced the delicate arch of her eyebrow with a fingertip.

"I know one can't make people accept help," Chloe said with one of her devastating flashes of mature insight that still surprised and delighted him. "And since I don't think I was trying to help her just so that / would feel good, I shouldn't feel miserable just because she prefers to do something else."

She was silent for a minute, then continued rather more cheerfully. "Well, at least she left the baby. And at least she was able to have the baby safely… but.,." She sat up as a thought struck her. "But you know what will happen to her. She'll get pregnant again… she doesn't know about potions or… or withdrawing… or things like that. She'll be pregnant again in no time. And she's so young. She told me she didn't even know how old she is." She relaxed against him again with a heavy sigh.

Hugo said nothing immediately, dwelling on the somber reflection that the diminutive philanthropist on his knee knew all too much about potions… and withdrawing… and things like that… as she put it, with an apparent ingenuousness quite at odds with both the sentiment and her earlier conclusions.

He hadn't held her for an eternity, it seemed, and the slight weight, so familiar to him in its contours and fragrances, filled him with an inconsolable yearning. There was nothing sensual about her at this moment. In fact, she seemed unaware of their proximity, so involved in her sorrow and bewilderment over Peg that she might be sitting anywhere instead of on his knee, leaning against his shoulder. Was she even aware of his fingers playing in the tumbling guinea-gold hair?

The door opened suddenly. "Oh, my goodness… oh, I didn't realize…" Lady Smallwood stood foursquare in the doorway, blinking at the pair on the sofa. "I was looking for Chloe," she said.

"And now you've found her," Hugo said easily. "The lass is very upset about Peg." Gently, and he hoped with an air of complete naturalness, he tipped her off his knee and stood up. Dolly would think nothing of it. She would simply see a guardian comforting his unhappy young ward.

"Yes, and what a to-do," Dolly declared. "Talk about ingratitude… talk about biting the hand that feeds-"

"We aren't," Chloe said sharply. "We aren't talking about that at all."

Her chaperone sniffed and with customary fatal lack of tact plowed ahead. "Samuel's come back. He says he's looked all over and there's no sign of her. And good riddance, if you ask my opinion."

"I can't imagine ever doing such a thing," Chloe said, tight-lipped. "Your opinions, madam, can hold not the slightest-"

"Chloe, that'll do." Hugo stepped in before the tirade became unstoppable.

Fortunately, at this point Samuel provided a diversion. He entered the library, snow sticking to his cloak and clinging to his bushy, grizzled eyebrows. "Not a sign," he said. "An' no one's seen 'er neither. I asked up an' down the street. Not that you can see much out there," he added, going to the windows, gazing out at the dense blanket still descending.

He glanced back at the tear-streaked Chloe and said gruffly, "Now, don't you go afrettin', lass. She'll 'ave known where to go. She's no fool, that Peg. If you ask me, she's 'appy as a grig now. No baby to worry over. She 'ad the money you gave 'er, all those good clothes.

She'll be in some alehouse by now, snug and warm, an' havin' the time of 'er life."

"Until the money runs out," Chloe said, refusing to be cheered by a picture that, knowing Peg, she had to admit was quite possibly accurate. 'Maybe she'll come back then."

Samuel shrugged. "More to the point, seems to me, is what's to be done with the babe."

"A wet nurse, I suppose," Chloe said. "But where do we find one in this weather?"

"Well, it just so 'appens that the ead groom's wife 'as just 'ad a little-un. I daresay she'd not be averse to takin' on another for a few guineas."

"Oh, Samuel, you are wonderful." Chloe flew across the room and kissed him heartily on both cheeks, oblivious of Lady Smallwood's scandalized little cry.

"Get along wi' you," Samuel said, blushing. "If yell fetch the babe down 'ere, I'll take it along to the mews. Ted's waitin' fer it."

"And then, when she's weaned, she can come and live with us," Chloe stated.

"It's to be hoped your husband won't be averse to taking on an infant of unknown parentage," Hugo commented somewhat aridly.

Chloe's heart skipped a beat as she realized that she had simply spoken from the forbidden assumption-an assumption that despite the present bewildering estrangement was still intrinsic to her view of their future.

She said with a slight shrug, "Oh, I'm sure Persephone will win over the most unkind heart."

"Persephone! Dear God in heaven! What kind of a name is that for some poor little bastard from the city stews?" Hugo exclaimed, immediately diverted from contemplation of Denis DeLacy's reaction to adoptive parenthood.

Chloe's mouth took a familiar stubborn turn. "I fail to see why a bastard from the stews shouldn't have a pretty name."

"Hugo!" Lady Smallwood squeaked. "Oh, goodness me, whatever will she say next? If anyone should hear… oh, my poor heart, such palpitations." She sank onto a chair, fumbling in her reticule for her smelling salts.

Unfortunately, Hugo caught Chloe's eye, brimful of wicked merriment. Over her shoulder Samuel was grinning with unabashed amusement. Hugo developed a violent coughing fit as the only recourse.

"Well, I'll go and fetch Persephone," Chloe declared, regarding her convulsed guardian with feigned concern. "That is the most dreadful cough, Hugo."

He pulled himself together. "Must it be Persephone?"

"Yes," Chloe said simply, turning to the door. "And while I'm in the mews, I thought, perhaps, since its such a miserable night and he'll be cold and lonely-"

"No," Hugo said.

"But I promise I'll keep him on the leash; he's very good about it. And I'll only let him in here. He and Dante like to play together and they can lie by the fire."

"No."

"Oh, Hugo, please."

"Is she talking about that wild animal?" Lady Smallwood recovered from one set of palpitations and prepared for the next. "I will not… absolutely not stay under the same roof as a wild beast."

"Oh, ma'am, he'll only be in the library," Chloe said. "There's no reason why you should even see him." She turned dark purple eyes on Hugo. "Demosthenes hasn't been able to play with Dante all day because of the snow. And he'll be so lonely."

It was true that the massive brindle mongrel and the bear cub had developed some kind of rapport. It was also true that the pair of them could reduce a room to ruin before a man could blink.

"No," Hugo repeated.

"But I promise I'll keep him on the leash. And if he won't be quiet, then I'll take him straight back to the stables." Tearstains still tracked down the damask cheeks, her eyes were still tear-washed, that lovely soft mouth quivered in appeal.

Hugo wondered absently why he even bothered to begin a battle that experience told him he couldn't possibly win. He'd forbidden the bear the house on innumerable occasions, but it didn't seem to make the slightest difference. Demosthenes still came in.

Shaking his head in defeat, he bent to throw another log on the fire.

"Hugo, I've been meaning to talk to you about that young DeLacy," Lady Smallwood said, abruptly recovering from her palpitations as the door closed on a triumphant Chloe. "His attentions are most particular."

"I had noticed." Hugo turned to face his cousin. "And as far as I can gather, so has everyone else."

"Chloe doesn't appear to hold him in dislike," his cousin said.

"That, if I may say so, is the understatement of the season, ma'am."

"It's a perfectly good match… not brilliant of course, and with that beauty and such a fortune, one would have hoped-"