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Lady Alford had loathed Lord Alford. But by now she was skilled enough at pretending to be a grieving widow that almost everyone accepted her revised version of history. It made Pomona’s head spin. She sighed. "Where is Castle March?"

“Castle March?” Lady Alford opened her eyes dramatically wide. “You must have heard of it! It is in Shropshire. On the border with Wales! Surely you know that the word for ‘border’ used to be ‘march.' And the old duke was a most unpleasant man. And virtually a hermit. Now, tell me—is that silver bowl on the sideboard Rundell and Bridge? I have been hunting for one just like it." She lowered her voice. "Theodosia certainly does just as she pleases now—does she not? Mind you, the count was said to be the seventh richest man in Germany.”

The longer this conversation went on the more tense Pomona felt. “Lady Theodosia has formed a philosophical society.”

"Of course she has." Lady Alford snorted. “Now. Let us waste no more time. Has the duke told you about March House?”

A sudden, inconvenient memory of West’s lips on hers made Pomona’s face heat. “He… er… he did not mention anything specific.”

Her mother snorted again. “Well, one cannot wonder at that. The place is a ruin! An absolute ruin! Moths have eaten all the carpets. Rats have eaten everything else! The windows are rotting out of the walls!”

How could she know this, when she’d just arrived in London? “But it is in St. James’s Square, is it not? How can that be possible?”

“Because one cannot simply leave a house sitting empty. However, it is all to the good. The opportunity is yours to seize.”

“Opportunity?”

“The house requires a complete refurbishment. It must be decorated top to bottom. And I have absolutely wonderful news: I traveled up to London with Monsieur Mazarine."

Pomona blinked. Was she supposed to recognize this name? “I… I am sorry, I do not”—

“Monsieur Mazarine! The celebrated decorator! He decorated my house in Bath! March House will be a showplace. Every room will be more charming than the last. Every stick of furniture will be the newest and the most luxurious! And you simply must have an imperial Egyptian motif. I can already picture it. Black marble wall panels in the entry! A matched pair of gold leaf console tables with sphinx-shaped bases! It will be the most stylish home in London—Carleton House not excepted. Monsieur Mazarine will know to a nicety how it is to be accomplished, but there is not a moment to lose.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it must be ready by next season, of course!” Her mother rolled her eyes. “Naturally, you will hold a ball that will eclipse any other entertainment ever held in London. Bertha Townley will be simply sick when she learns that she has not been invited.”

Lady Theodosia came in. “Ah! Caroline. What a surprise it is to see you. How was your journey?”

Lad Alford tossed her head. “Dreadful, of course. The road was nothing but mud every inch of the way. It was all but impossible to find a comfortable room anywhere. Fortunately, I leave all that to Monsieur Mazarine. He always manages innkeepers and people of that class so well.”

Lady Theodosia looked at Pomona. Pomona, mortified, gave a slight shake of her head. Was Monsieur Mazarine also her mother’s… cicisbeo? She didn’t want to know.

“I am explaining to Pomona that she has a great deal to do, and a great deal less time to do it than she thinks. Of course, she has always been suffered to be very idle, and I blame myself for that. However, that is about to change.”

“Oh?” Lady Theodosia signaled to the footman to bring in the tea things. “And why is that?”

“She must oversee the refurbishment of March House, of course.”

“I see.” Her great aunt poured tea from the pink and gold Meissen teapot. “But of course, that will have to wait until the duke and duchess return.”

Lady Alford froze. “Return? Return from where?”

“From Venice.” Lady Theodosia handed her a cup of tea. “They are to go on honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?”

“Surely you know how fashionable honeymoons are become.”

“Of course I know.” Lady Alford glared at her. “But you cannot conceive how impossible it is to engage Monsieur Mazarine! The Prince Regent himself has begged for an appointment! And yet he is prepared to drop everything for Pomona! She cannot throw this opportunity away!”

Lady Theodosia laughed. “Oh dear, Caroline! I should hardly call a honeymoon in Venice throwing anything away. Think what treasures of art and antiquity Pomona will see! And she is a person of great sensibility, so they will not be lost on her. Besides, no doubt your... decorator will still be available when the duke and duchess return. Unless…” Lady Theodosia trailed off.

“Unless what?” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

“Unless you have some reason to believe that this… Monsieur Mazarine… may not still be in business by then?”

“Hardly!” Lady Alford’s eyes snapped with fury. “No doubt he will be busier than ever! That is precisely my”—