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something he hoped to change. He sobered as he thought of the two ladies upstairs. Had Meredith calmed after his angry departure? Miss Winlow was now under his employ, so he assumed that she would behave herself. Still, he had experienced firsthand her sardonic wit. He rubbed the back of his neck in agitation.
    It had been a mistake to leave them alone.
    “Guard the door, Scrimm.” Ram swallowed the remaining brandy in two hearty gulps. “If Miss Winlow tries to flee, you have my permission to stop her by any means necessary.”
    “She will not get by me again, my lord. If drastic measures are required, I shall sit on her and await your return,” the butler promised.
    Oh, Ram could well imagine the elderly Scrimm tackling the fleeing Miss Winlow in the front hall and plopping down on her backside. Ram was certain that would confirm the lady’s suspicions that
the Knowdens were mad. Christ, what a quandary! Meredith was screeching like a harpy, and now he was likely to lose his new ally because he had made a muddle of things.
    Handing the empty glass to Scrimm, Ram strode out of the library intending to put his house in order.
     
     
    “A stage strumpet,” Patience said, tasting the phrase with a contemplative frown. “I daresay no one has risked hurling that insult to my face before.”
    “I would think someone in your position would be quite used to having derogatory names and rotting vegetation thrown in your direction,” Lady Meredith said, her expression one of scornful triumph.
    “My position?” Patience politely replied.
    “As an actress, of course.”
    “Oh? I could say the same of you, Lady Meredith,” Patience said, crossing her hands behind her back and giving her a knowing look.
    “I cannot fathom what you are about.”
    “Really?” She strolled closer to the young woman and gestured at a nearby chair. “May I sit?”
    At first, she thought Lady Meredith might refuse out of spite. Suddenly recalling her manners, she nodded regally. “Of course. Please join me.” She waited until Patience was sitting down before she gave in to
her curiosity. “Now that the pleasantries are done, I insist you explain your earlier comment.”
    Lord Ramscar had warned Patience that the task of preparing his sister for London would not be an easy one. Lady Meredith viewed Patience as the enemy. This was nothing new to her. She was used to working beside people who merely tolerated her presence. Ram’s sister would have to work harder if her goal was to discourage Patience. “You called me an actress. I simply returned the favor.”
    “You insult me?”
    “On the contrary, Lady Meredith, I was admiring your efforts,” she said, radiating sincerity. “Like recognizes like. You certainly had your brother fooled.”
    “You know nothing of me. What can anyone deduce from a few minutes of conversation?”
    “Oh, quite a lot,” Patience admitted candidly. “My profession has made me a student of human nature. Much can be deduced from inflection, expression, and posture.”
    Lady Meredith tilted her head in curiosity, and her lips parted as if she might ask Patience to elaborate further on her observations. Then the lady recalled the circumstances that had brought her new companion to Swancott, and mutinous rage doused any milder discourse. “My anger was not feigned, Miss Winlow. I resent your presence in my home. I do not want you here. My brother is wasting good
coin in hiring you, because I have no desire to go to London.”
    Patience saw through the lady’s anger to the heart of the matter. Her fears. Patience tried a different approach. “Oh, I would be foolish to contradict such a strong opinion. I actually was referring to your outlandish tantrum. It was quite a magnificent display and so contrary to your disposition.”
    The other woman choked with outrage. “What do you know—My brother spoke to you about me?”
    She had gleaned enough from Lord Ramscar’s tragic retelling of the fire and his