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country
!” he snorted with derision. “However can anyone prefer it?”
    Miss Barton raised her head enough to cast a glance out a window of the room, which overlooked the frontage of the estate. “I think it’s lovely country,” she said. “And not even that far from Town.”
    â€œHalf a day’s drive, you mean!” he returned. “Quite far enough. In any case, I’ll have to take the carriage, but I do not imagine you were planning on using it. You look ill, in fact. Are you unwell?” His eyes had narrowed sharply upon really seeing her face.
    â€œI am fine,” she answered, looking down for a second.
    When she did look up, he said, “But you are certainly not in your looks. I want you to rest while I am out.” Anne’s eyes had darkish circles, as though she had not been sleeping well, or felt ill.
    â€œTristan?” Her voice was low, and she paused, looking flustered.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œYou—you shan’t forget to tell them your sister is with you?”
    He grimaced. “I told you I mean to introduce you. I’ve decided that you can be of use to me, in fact. You will keep Mrs. Mornay in company, so that I may hope to get more of the mister to myself. I am determined to do my service for the prince as speedily as possible. It may be that I can procure some good for us from this before any…detrimental reports may reach the ears of His Royal Highness.”
    He was standing now, brushing off his coat, and he asked, “How do I look, eh?”
    She glanced over him. “I do think breeches are formal for a morning call.”
    â€œThis is Mornay I’m seeing, Anne! Can anything be too formal for such a man?”
    â€œWhen meeting him with the prince, or at an affair, I suppose not; but here in the country?”
    â€œI wouldn’t be at all surprised if he keeps to London styles, country or no; I mean to be prepared.”
    â€œYou will seem to be striving for their approval.”
    â€œBut I am. I must have their approval, or my chances of doing anything for the prince are dashed.”
    â€œBut do you not want to seem more confident? As though you have no reason
not
to be approved of? You should allow your good manners to speak for you. Not your attire.”
    He went up to her and stroked her cheek. Miss Barton was surprised, but pleased. He looked at her almost pityingly, however, and said, “Anne, Anne. If you knew how to dress properly for the right company, I might even now be addressing you as ‘my lady.’ You failed to impress his lordship’s family, do you not see?”
    â€œYou do not know the least thing about it!”
she cried, taking his hand and throwing it from her. She was already in tears. He stopped, a little taken aback by her passionate rebuttal.
    â€œDo not try to tell me anything about a matter you are entirely ignorant of!”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” he demanded. “What am I ignorant of?”
    She turned and glared at him for a moment, silent with anger. “It was your decision to sell our family home that first made them question our respectability!”
    â€œYes, but what of Brummell? Do you recall? He sold his estate, and no one questioned his dashed respectability!”
    â€œBrummell was an Original! And I daresay that the same people who paid him court would shrink from giving him a daughter in marriage! Respectability and good
ton
are two different things! No one questions whether you are fashionable, or agreeable—but
you sold our family house
! You threw away our ties to the land! You must know that a family estate means the world to these people! How can you have failed to understand that?” Her voice was cracking, and she could no longer keep herself from sobbing. She rushed from the room.

    The next day, Mr. Mornay asked his wife to take tea with him and the children in the nursery—a startling request, but Ariana was