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it,” Richard said flatly.
    Sophia took out her mirror again and smoothed an eyebrow. “Mmm... Do you know, I think I saw such a sapphire set on someone once. Who was it? Oh, that actress, Therese de Montagne.”
    Richard shrugged. “Whoever the deuce she is.”
    “Your language, dear brother, please!” Sophia looked pained. “Your lapse is no doubt because of the low company you keep. It would sadden Mama and Papa to hear of it.”
    “There is nothing for them to hear!” Richard shifted himself uncomfortably. He watched his sister, wondering what was coming next.
    “You know, I have often thought I would have been a very good actress, had I not been born to our station in life,” Sophia mused. She delicately wet a finger and set one of her curls more firmly in place. She smiled at herself in the mirror. “But then, it is not a particularly comfortable life, is it? I hear the actresses’ salaries are poor. Yet there is Therese de Montagne with a sapphire set. Now how is that?”
    Richard eyed his sister with a certain fascination, much in the manner a mouse might eye a snake. But he was a stubborn young man, and somehow all his sister’s machinations through the years had not yet touched a core of optimism still in him. “No doubt she had a patron,” he said in a bored voice. “Will you cease? I do not know what this has to do with me.”
    Sophia transferred her gaze from the mirror to Richard’s face, her expression a study in sudden revelation. She set down the mirror carefully on her lap. “Why, that is it! That is where I saw her! I remember a night at the theatre, and between acts one and two, I saw you talking with Miss de Montagne. She was opening a case with—yes! I remember!—some blue stones in them!” She clapped hands her in delight. “I especially remember it because I needed to refresh myself with a stroll after the first act.”
    “You wanted to spy on me, is what you really mean!”
    “I, spy?” said Sophia, her expression wounded. If Richard had not known her better, he would have felt as if he had just accused a newborn babe of murder. But he did know her better and thus knew he was at the end of her rapier thrust. He waited.
    It came. A look of not altogether innocent wonder dawned on Sophia’s face. “Why, Richard! Are you admitting you are Therese de Montagne’s patron? How can that be? Did you not just lose your whole allowance at the races last quarter? I know Papa paid your creditors that time; what a scold he gave you, you naughty boy!” Sophia laughed merrily. Richard cringed. “But how is it that you had enough funds to purchase a necklace?” she continued. “I am afraid I am not very good at sums. I shall have to ask Papa.”
    “Tell Papa, and you will rue the day you were born, Sophie!” growled Richard.
    “Do you know, I think I left the bill with Murphy,” Sophia mused.
    Richard groaned inwardly. Murphy, her abigail, was yet another who made up Sophia’s adoring crowd. The woman would do anything for her mistress, he knew. He could not afford another of his father’s scolds, for he was on his last legs until next quarter-day, and Lord Amberley was wont to withhold at least a portion of his funds with each scold. Though he was disillusioned by the Montagne woman and dismissed her when she clearly favored him no more than another despite his gift, she had been an expensive piece, and unless he was very lucky—or very conservative—he would not make a recovery in the immediate future.
    “When are we arriving at this cursed inn?” said Richard.
    Sophia’s smile was beatific. “I knew you would like my notion of stopping there!” she said. “I think you are going to be the most helpful brother in the world!”
    * * * *
    The morning broke differently for four individuals in the Lion’s Stone Inn.
    Sophia, recognizing certain crests on the carriages that came to the inn at the same time as her own, and satisfied with the large and very good mirror in her