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from side to side like a trapped animal pacing its cage. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Tomorrow would have sufficed.”
    â€œOur mutual friend is most anxious to put the matter behind him,” Simon answered.
    Sir Lucas chuckled. “‘Our mutual friend!’ Let us not be coy. You mean the prince regent.”
    â€œI have the honor of serving that gentleman, yes.”
    â€œOdious man!” Lucasta broke in. “I wonder you can serve him, Lord Simon. In your place, I would not do it. I believe he has treated his wife shamefully. And the P. Charlotte, too! Everyone knows he tried to force her to marry Prince William when all along she was in love with Prince Leopold. His own daughter!”
    â€œThe Prince of Wales has indulged the princess too much,” said Sir Lucas, shaking his massive head. “Prince William was the better match; a good father would have made her marry him. Why, Leopold is penniless!”
    â€œWhat about love? ” cried the heiress.
    â€œYou are nonsensical,” said her father. He glanced at Simon; at least Simon thought he did. With that roving left eye, it was rather hard to tell.
    â€œYou may speak to Papa after the play, Lord Simon,” Lucasta said before Simon could answer. “ We are going backstage to meet St. Lys, but Papa hates the theatre and has no opinion of actresses. You may keep him company while we are gone.”
    â€œGo backstage, child?” cried her father. “No indeed! I won’t have my daughter mingling with actresses . You would be tainted by association. What would your dear mama say if she should look down from heaven and see you in company with such women?”
    â€œNonsense, Papa!” laughed the young lady. “What fustian you talk! You took me to see the inmates at Bedlam, and I did not go mad. I think I can safely meet an actress without losing my character!”
    â€œMrs. Siddons, perhaps,” said Sir Lucas. “Mrs. Siddons is a respectable married woman. But not St. Lys. I forbid it.”
    â€œWho cares about old Mrs. Siddons?” said Lucasta. “At her last performance, she was so fat, the stage creaked. These actresses all get fat, sooner or later. Miss St. Lys will be fat, too, one day. How I shall laugh!”
    Twisting in her seat, she addressed Simon, who had seated himself behind her. “Your mama and I have made a wager, my lord. Her Grace says that St. Lys’s golden ringlets are natural, but I am sure they cannot be so. We must go backstage after the play. How else am I to prove that I am right?”
    â€œDo you plan to pull her hair?” Simon inquired politely.
    â€œNo one is going backstage,” Dorian said firmly. “I have told you before, Miss Tinsley, ladies do not go backstage. It would be most improper.”
    Accustomed to getting her way, Lucasta frowned at him. “Don’t be silly! If your mama goes with us, who would dare say it was improper?”
    â€œIndeed,” Simon put in dryly. “Who would censure the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire?”
    â€œI confess I have a strong curiosity to meet St. Lys,” the duchess announced, surprising both her sons. “If the management will undertake to remove all undesirable persons from our path, I see no reason why Miss Tinsley and I couldn’t visit the—the Green Room, I believe it’s called.”
    â€œMama!” Dorian protested. “The Green Room! Have you lost your wits?”
    â€œWould you have me forfeit a bet?” she responded calmly. “Miss Tinsley is our guest, Dorian,” she added. “One does not argue with a guest, after all.”
    â€œMadam, I protest,” Sir Lucas began, growing red in the face. “I really cannot allow my daughter—”
    â€œPshaw!” said the duchess, forgetting that one does not argue with a guest. “There is nothing whatever to be feared, Sir Lucas. His Grace and I shall go with her. I