Arethusa, Dowager Baroness Guilford, fixed her only son with a steely eye. “You simply must, or those French madmen will leave us high and dry."Her son settled into the armchair on the other side of the fireplace, exasperation battling with affection. “Mama ... You know I begrudge you no task, but is that really necessary?""I believe it is, yes.” She flounced the loose edge of the needlework that had occupied her attention until he entered the room. “There are some situations that require a man's firm hand."Christopher St. John, eighteen years of age and the youngest Baron Guilford to head his family in the past century, was startled by this change of attitude. Ordinarily he had to move heaven and earth to escape her watchful eye. “I beg your pardon, madam—did I hear you correctly?"She laughed at his astonishment, and when she smiled he could see how this still-handsome woman, with her Titian locks and perfect skin, had made his father the envy of his set. “Yes, my dear. Your uncle Douglas came to call while you were out riding, and he reminded me that although you will always be my dear boy, you are nearly a gentleman grown!
