The more Lord Maccon considered it, the more he grew to like the idea. Certainly his imagination was full of pictures of what he and Alexia might do together once he got her home in a properly wedded state, but now those lusty images were mixing with others: waking up next to her, seeing her across the dining table, discussing science and politics, having her advice on points of pack controversy and BUR difficulties. No doubt she would be useful in verbal frays and social machinations, as long as she was on his side.

What’s wrong with you? Are you ill? I forbid you to be ill, wife.

She was no closer to determining who might want her dead. There were just too many possibilities.

I have died and gone to the land of bad novels.

Alexia, did you know there is an entire regiment decamping on your front lawn? Laddy Maccon sighed. "Really, Ivy, I would never have noticed.

You are about as covert as a sledgehammer.

The important question is, what will your wear for a wedding dress, Alexia? You look horrible in white.