“Dia-mods?” said the baby from atop her head, speaking his first word ever.


“Mother, this wretched boy won’t give me his diamond fortune,” Snobby complained to Lady Worthless. “I batted my eyelashes and everything, just like you told me to. He’s mean! Mean! Mean!” Snobby went to her mother for comfort but Lady Worthless shoved her out of the way as she rushed up to Richie Sterling with the baby still sitting on her head.


“Mr. Sterling, I hear you’re not interested in my daughter, Snobby,” said Lady Worthless.


“That’s right. Not interested at all.”


“I quite understand,” Lady Worthless agreed. “You should get to know my younger daughter, Doodles, better.” Searching around, Lady Worthless tried to find Doodles, but couldn’t. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Doodles must have blended into the tapestry.”


The baby on Lady Worthless’s head started to cry once more. “It upsets him when Doodles disappears like that,” Lady Worthless explained. The baby slid from her back, pulling off her wig and revealing snow-white hair beneath. “Come back with my hair, you naughty child,” Lady Worthless shouted as the baby crawled away, pulling the wig behind him. “Oh, I am much too old for this,” she muttered as she trails after him.


Richina Sterling looked at the escaping baby. “Why don’t you get a young nanny like everyone else has?” she asks.


“I had one, but Lord Worthless sold her off to help raise money to save the estate,” Lady Worthless explained wistfully. “We had better not stand here for too long or we’ll be sold too.” But her remark came too late, for as she stands there talking, one of the movers scooped her up to carry her off.


“Lord Worthless, help!” Lady Worthless implored her husband for help. “Make this man release me! Tell him I am not for sale!”


“Of course you are for sale, darling,” Lord Worthless insisted. “You’ve been trying to sell our daughters for months now. Why shouldn’t I sell you, though I don’t know who would want an aged mother like you.”


“You beast!” Lady Worthless shouted as the mover carries her away.


“Sell! Sell!” Lord Worthless shouted. “Everything must go! I need the money.”


Soon the movers had carried out everything. Richie and Richina were left in an empty foyer. “What’s the sense in selling everything to save the manor if the manor is unlivable because it’s empty?” Richina questioned.


“Who knows?” Richie answered. “And, frankly, who cares? Can I interest you in a game of tennis?”


“That sounds smashing,” she agreed and followed him out, her many bracelets making a loud racket as she goes.


For a moment there was silence in the empty room, but then a small voice sounded. “Hello? Where is everybody?” Doodles emerged from the wall, still dressed in her oversized clothing. She blew away a feather from her hat, which had flopped over her woebegone face as she searched the place, wondering where everyone had gone. Finally she heard a pathetic moan from under the table and spied Snobby’s shoes peaking out.


Grabbing hold of her sister’s feet, Doodles pulled Snobby out from beneath the table. Snobby came to consciousness once more. “I must have fainted,” she declared. “Imagine that Richie Sterling not wanting to marry me.”


“Or me,” Doodles added.


Snobby stood, took Doodles by the hand, and led her to the massive front door, pulling it wide open. “Come along, Doodles,” she said bravely. “We’ll find some fabulously wealthy men to marry us and buy us fancy things. After all… we’re Worthless.”

“Nora. Find me a day dress with a nice wide skirt, will you? Something that won’t drag on the dirt,” Maggie instructed. These Indian summer days were still beautiful and it would be nice to get out on the grounds for a walk. It might be just the thing to help her shake this feeling of being a caged bird.

“How about this, Miss?” Nora suggested, presenting her with a tea-length dress of a simple blue broadcloth with a white collar.

“Perfect,” Maggie pronounced, “and I’ll need my most comfortable boots. The black ones with the low heels and the hook sides are probably best.”

Within minutes Maggie was dressed and Nora had assisted her in weaving her hair into a French braid fastened with a bow at the back of her neck, letting the rest of her dark curls fall free. “Enjoy your stroll,” Nora bid her as Maggie disappeared into the hall.

On the way downstairs Maggie ducked into the dining room, relieved that no one had risen for breakfast yet, although the buffet and the table settings had been laid out. This enabled her to escape with a raisin scone wrapped in a linen napkin without getting bogged down in conversation. As she made her way out a back entrance not far from the stable, the cool snap in the air struck her with new energy. This solo walk was just the thing to clear her head and today was picture-perfect.

As Maggie crossed the rolling green lawn, noticing that the first reds and oranges of the coming fall were already settling in on the trees of the woods ahead of her, she noticed two figures on a path cutting diagonally across the lawn to her right. It took only another second for her to see that it was Therese pushing the baby’s carriage. And Michael was strolling alongside them! They saw her but pretended they hadn’t. Maggie was certain that they’d deliberately turned their heads away.

Maggie felt as if she’d been stabbed straight through her heart. Without a moment’s thought, she headed purposefully toward them. How long had this flirtation between Therese and Michael been going on? And was that Therese insane? Why would she bring James outside on a chilly morning like this? She needed to get that baby inside.

“Bonjour, Miss Maggie,” Therese greeted her when Maggie came near. “How are you this—”

“What are you thinking?” Maggie demanded, growing red-faced with fury. “Look at the flimsy covering you have over the baby. He’s sure to catch a chill.”

A blush rose on Therese’s cheeks, as well. “I think he is well covered,” she defended herself.

“The little guy looks happy enough to me,” Michael put in.

“Don’t you dare,” Maggie muttered, shooting him a withering glare. “You have no opinion about this.”

Michael looked as if he were about to say something else, but Maggie’s scathing glare made certain he would from there on hold his tongue. Turning her attention back to Therese, Maggie pointed angrily to Wentworth Hall. “Bring him inside this minute,” she commanded. “And from now on you ask permission before you ever bring him outside in inclement weather again. Is that understood?”

“Yes, mademoiselle,” Therese agreed, head cast down. She gazed at Michael apologetically and he returned a small smile of understanding.

“Go!” Maggie shouted at Therese.

As the nanny scurried off, Maggie stood there, hands on hips, panting with anger. When she turned to Michael, he was studying her intently. “Inclement weather?” he questioned with a note of sarcasm, spreading his arms wide to indicate the beauty of the blue sky and green rolling hills.

“It’s cold,” Maggie snapped at him. “And James is just a baby.”

“It’s not cold, Maggie,” Michael disagreed levelly. “What was all that about?”

Maggie studied Michael’s handsome face. Her anger was gone, but she had a million questions. Some too dangerous to broach. She settled on asking about Therese. “Why were you walking with Therese?”

“My work is done for the morning and Therese is pleasant company,” Michael explained. “Mrs. Howard suggested I get to know her better.”

“Mrs. Howard did?” Maggie questioned, her voice rising once more. “Maybe Mrs. Howard should mind her own business.”

“Why shouldn’t Mrs. Howard do a little match-making? I’m not too low on the social ladder for a girl like Therese. What’s it to you?”

The rush of tears that came into Maggie’s eyes took her by surprise and she jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flood.

“Aw, Maggie!” Michael moved toward her but froze. “I didn’t mean that. I want to take you in my arms, but I can’t. We don’t know who might be watching from the house. I’m sorry. I was being horrible to you. Forgive me.”

Taking her hands from her eyes, Maggie gazed at him through wet eyes. “What’s the sense in pretending, Michael? You must know I still love you and I couldn’t stand seeing you with that girl and James.” She glanced toward the many windows of Wentworth Hall and knew he was right. As much as she longed to be in his arms, he was right. It wouldn’t be wise.

“First time I’ve seen little Lord Darlington,” Michael responded, trying to lighten the mood. “Handsome fellow, no wonder your mother keeps him cloistered up in that nursery. Real lady-killer in the making.”

“Yes.” Maggie smiled faintly. “He’s safe there. In the nursery.” They both fell into silence, and Maggie stared off into the fields.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m wishing that the rest of the world would just go away and let us be. Why do the opinions of other people have to matter?” she said.

“I don’t know why, but somehow they do,” Michael replied in a voice filled with pain. “You’re not just a regular person, you’re a Darlington and that makes it impossible for us. I won’t ask you to give up everything you were born to. Not again, at least.”

“I don’t care about those things,” Maggie said, and as the words came out of her mouth she knew they were true. What was wealth if she couldn’t have Michael?

“But you still won’t run away with me. Because being a Darlington is not only about things. It’s family, too,” Michael reminded her. “You told me yourself, nothing means more to the Darlingtons than keeping the family lineage and prestige. If you married a groom—you’d never see Wesley or Lila or your parents again. Not to mention, you’d never be allowed to step foot in Wentworth Hall.”

“Damn Wentworth Hall!” Maggie cried heatedly. “It’s musty and cold, drafty and it’s falling apart.”

“It’s belonged to your family for nearly three centuries.” Michael said tenderly. “Wentworth Hall is in your blood.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage.” Hanging her head, Maggie let her tears fall freely. “I hate what’s happened to us, Michael,” she whimpered pitifully.

“I know, love,” Michael said. The warmth in his voice was like a caress and Maggie let it wrap around her soothingly. What heaven it would be to lean her head on his chest and let him stroke her hair. She ached for his warm touch and the comfort of him. “I wish we could go back to being children and stop time there,” she told Michael. “At least then I could keep you near me always.”

“I wish it too,” Michael agreed, daring to step closer to her. “But it can never be.”


Lila gazed at Teddy Fitzhugh from behind the playing cards fanned out in her hands. He had finally tired of Maggie, and now deigned to pay Lila some attention. He had even taught her to play bezique, a card game he’d learned while on holiday in Italy a few years before. The amazing thing was, while he was still undeniably handsome, he failed to inspire the same feelings he once did in her. Was she really so fickle? This love business was certainly puzzling.

“Lila, it’s your turn,” Teddy reminded her.