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see the contents. If the latter agreed, Minerva’s opinion was sought.
    Many of the pieces were old-fashioned and not, to her ignorant eyes, attractive. At first she tried to murmur something noncommittal but when an uncommonly ugly antique bracelet was added to the pile of items to be given to her, she decided she’d better make her feelings known if she wasn’t to end up with a box full of unwearable horrors.
    â€œThank you, but it’s not to my taste, ma’am,” she said, barely repressing a shudder at a brooch of frightening brown and yellow stones.
    The duke waved the piece away while the duchess looked at her with a glimmer of respect, and began to take a more active part in the proceedings.
    â€œDiamonds,” she said. “You must have a diamond set. They are always useful.”
    Despite having managed her entire life without such a convenience, Minerva obediently considered two different necklaces with matching earrings and bracelets. Not for the first time she wished Diana were there. Her sister would know exactly what to choose. Not wishing to appear greedy, she picked the set with the smaller stones. Then she expressed admiration for a pretty collar of cameos that had the virtue of simplicity.
    â€œA lovely group,” her future mother-in-law said.
    â€œThose are ancient Roman gems I bought on my Grand Tour,” added the duke. “I had them made up into a necklace for my mother.”
    â€œYou mean these carvings are almost two thousand years old?” Minerva asked. “The faces look quite modern.”
    â€œI always thought that myself. Some of the subjects are known. Two or three of the men are Caesars. There’s a record of the names somewhere if you would care to see it.”
    â€œThank you,” Minerva said politely, despite only a cursory interest in Roman history. The duke displayed unusual animation, as though his gift to his mother held some importance for him.
    â€œIs it in the case? Give it to Miss Montrose.”
    The Steward of the Jewels, as Minerva had mentally dubbed the attendant, silently handed her a folded paper. The foolscap sheet bore a drawing of the necklace, with about half the cameos identified by name in a neat copperplate. Beneath was inscribed a paragraph about each historical character.
    â€œ ‘Livia, the wife of Emperor Augustus.’ ” Minerva smiled. “I never thought to wear the image of an Empress of Rome.”
    â€œAre you going to adopt the lady’s habit of ruthlessness?” asked a voice from the doorway. “Should I be alarmed?”
    â€œBlakeney,” said the duke, his tone plunged from balmy to frost. “You honor us. Pray come in and close the door.”
    Blakeney sauntered forward and bowed to his father, managing to convey derision in the obeisance. Not troubling with an apology for his tardiness, he greeted the ladies with a kiss on the hand apiece.
    â€œMy dear Miss Montrose,” he drawled over her knuckle, “are you planning to run the Roman Empire from behind the throne?”
    He was only being provocative. Surely he had no idea that had always been her plan for marriage, down to almost those very words. Surprised to find him so well informed about Roman history, she glanced again at the paper in her left hand and read the paragraph to herself.
    She smiled sweetly. “Like Livia and Augustus I look forward to fifty-one years of devoted matrimony.”
    â€œA very proper sentiment,” said the duke. “You shall have the cameos.”
    â€œMy grandmother’s antique necklace,” Blakeney said. “I remember her wearing it and telling me the stories behind the gems. I never knew my grandfather, the third duke, but I do remember the duchess as an old woman. Like my mother she was younger than her spouse.”
    Minerva had known the Duke and Duchess of Hampton by sight since she was a child. She’d always regarded them as deeply