“She is well known to me. I need not say that she is perfectly respectable.”

Benjamin didn’t understand the sidelong glance the woman threw his uncle. He only knew that he wouldn’t want to be the target of her disapproval.

“Unless you object, of course,” his uncle finished.

“No.” A proper chaperone solved one of his problems—the Wandrells. Not the most worrisome perhaps, but important nonetheless. “You are most welcome, Mrs. Thorpe.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was musical, with a note of command as impressive as her appearance.

“I’ll take her to meet Miss Saunders,” said his uncle. He offered his arm, and they swept up the staircase as if they, rather than Benjamin, owned the place.

“Need not say I am perfectly respectable?” murmured Mrs. Thorpe when they reached the upper corridor.

Lord Macklin acknowledged the reproof in her voice with a nod. “I mustn’t indulge in sleight of word.”

“Sleight of—” She laughed, a charming sound. “This may very well not work, Macklin. You’re taking a chance.”

“Which I haven’t done often enough in my life.”

“But it’s not your life at the center of this. We’ll see what the young lady thinks. I’ve told you this is her decision.”

“How could she help but like you?”

“Liking isn’t the issue,” Mrs. Thorpe answered dryly as he knocked on a bedchamber door.

“Miss Saunders,” said Lord Macklin when the door opened. “May I present Mrs. Thorpe to you?”

With a graceful bow, he launched the older woman in Jean’s direction. Jean stepped back. Mrs. Thorpe came in, closing the door behind her, and Jean found herself alone in her room with a stranger.

The older woman smiled. There was something so warm and engaging in the expression that it was impossible to take offense as Mrs. Thorpe sat in one armchair before the fireplace and directed Jean to the other. Jean felt rather as if the queen had dropped by for a chat. One didn’t raise objections in such a case. “I told Lord Macklin that you had to be in on our scheme,” Mrs. Thorpe said. “And in fact that the whole is up to you. I won’t go on without your approval.”

Jean grew even more curious. She examined the poised figure sitting opposite. Mrs. Thorpe’s black hair was immaculately dressed. Her clothes obviously came from a fashionable modiste. Her face was a bit pale, but nothing could detract from its classic bone structure. Her blue eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence. “Scheme?” Jean asked.

“For me to serve as your chaperone.”

“Oh.”

“I’m happy to play the role. I’ve grown rather bored with rusticating. But only if you approve.”

“Youare the mysterious friend in the village,” Jean said, making the connection.

“It’s no great mystery that I’m staying there.”

“But there is some mystery? A reason I shouldn’t approve?”

Mrs. Thorpe smiled again. Jean couldn’t help smiling back. Her visitor’s charm was palpable. She was rapidly becoming fascinated, Jean thought.

“I’m an actress,” said Mrs. Thorpe. “Down from London on a repairing lease. My husband declared I’d been running too hard and sent me off for a rest.” She made a comical face. “He said I’d never get any in town or with him about, and he was right. He generally is. Such an annoying trait in a man.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s voice made you want to listen to whatever she cared to say, Jean thought.

“I’d heard of the beauties of the village here, so I took a cottage for a few months. I’ve been keeping to myself. With just my maid to do for me. None of the neighboring gentry has noticed me. That’s important.”

“To the scheme,” Jean replied.

“Oh good. You’re not stupid.”

Jean laughed. “I hope I’m not.”