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her views. She has been good to many of them, sending help when they were in trouble. If she approved of my plans they would accept them more readily.’
    For a few moments Nicholas wondered who Jeremy meant by the dowager, then with a shock realized he was talking of Catarina.
    ‘She’s still a girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘How can you call her a dowager?’
    Jeremy grinned at him. ‘I know, it sounds ridiculous, she’s the same age as I am, but as soon as you marry she’ll have to get used to it. We can’t have two countesses.’
    ‘I’m not planning to marry,’ Nicholas protested.
    ‘Oh, come. You wouldn’t want me to inherit the title, would you? Besides, you’ll live to a ripe old age and I would be too ancient to make the most of it. I’ll be content with the connection , the reflected glory. Seriously, Nick, you need to set up your own nursery soon. There will be even more debutantes on the catch for you now you have the title. Why don’t you go up to London for the Little Season and survey the field?’
    Nicholas grimaced. ‘The whole business is like a horse fair. Dance with some chit at two consecutive balls, or drive her in the Park, and the dowagers are taking bets. Dowagers!’ he added.
    Jeremy chuckled. ‘I’ll hazard you don’t meet many like our own dowager at Almack’s!’
     
    Catarina rented an apartment a week after they arrived in Lisbon. She hired a cook and a Portuguese maid, and they announced that Joanna, a grieving widow, would not be entering Society or receiving calls.
    ‘That will explain how we don’t know anyone here.’
    ‘If we’d gone to a smaller town we could at least have driven out,’ Joanna complained.
    ‘And been more conspicuous. Here we are anonymous, and no one will notice us, or begin to speculate about us.’
    Joanna nodded reluctant agreement. ‘I am so bored!’ she complained. ‘I’ve read this book of poems so many times I could recite every one.’
    ‘There are clothes to make for the child,’ Catarina reminded her.
    ‘I hate sewing. I have enough reminders of Matthew; I don’t want to spend my time sewing for his wretched brat!’
    Catarina sighed. Joanna insisted she did not wish to keep the child. In any event it would have been impossible, unless they moved from Somerset and all their acquaintances and settled in another part of the country where they could have maintained the fiction of Joanna’s widowhood.
    ‘I’ve been making enquiries. There is a convent nearby which takes in orphan babies. They either find someone to adopt the children, or they keep them until they are old enough to be apprenticed to a trade. If I give them a large sum of money they will ensure the child goes to a good home.’
    ‘I don’t care.’
    Catarina lost her temper. ‘This baby is yours too! You are as responsible for creating it as Matthew. You can’t be so heartless as not to care what becomes of the poor mite!’
    ‘It was Matthew’s fault!’ Joanna muttered. ‘I thought we were married, and he might have been going to his death at Waterloo.’
    ‘You should have had the sense to know it was not all correct when it was done in a clandestine manner.’
    ‘He said he didn’t want Uncle Ivor to know, as he wanted Matthew to marry some girl with a title, not just a small fortune like mine.’
    ‘He survived.’ Catarina was horrified at her wickedness when she caught herself thinking it might have been better if he had not. ‘His mother wrote to tell me, and also to announce his betrothal to a girl from Leicestershire. Will you tell him when the baby is born?’
    Joanna shook her head. ‘He doesn’t care. He wanted me to get rid of it and, as soon as I can, I want to forget I ever had it. I mean it, Cat. This baby is not going to ruin my life.’
     
    Nicholas and Jeremy were still at breakfast when their new butler came to say that Staines was in the kitchen, rather upset, and wanted to speak to them.
    ‘We’ll see him in the estate office in