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falling from Darley's lips. She had to bite down hard to keep from asking why—if Montague were so superior—Darley did not just marry him. Obviously, they were well suited.
    Finally, Marian could not take any more of it without offering something in her own defense. Biting her bottom lip and lowering her eyes to the table, she affected a small sigh. Into the brief lull of talk that ensued, she murmured, "I could never aspire to the heights of such a paragon of perfection. You must find me very poor company indeed in comparison. I do not think I could learn half so much as a man like that must already know."
    Darley looked horrified. He reached for her hand and patted it. "Don't be such a goose. Of course you cannot. You are a woman. But if Reginald is a paragon of perfection, then it is only of his gender, for you are the epitome of all that I hold dear in the fairer sex."
    Had she been herself Marian would have ripped his tongue out while informing him that a female—any female—was five times more preferable to a puffed-up ass who knew nothing but horses and tailors. But she gave him a gratified smile, took his hand, and allowed him to escort her from the supper room. She feared her tongue would bear scars before the season ended.
    To Marian's relief, there was no further evidence of the disagreeable Mr. Montague's presence after supper. And her mother was rested enough to stay for the final waltz, so she spent a whole interval talking with Darley as well as claiming the last dance. Gossip was already swirling. She smiled into his eyes, melted into his arms, and willed him to see her as his viscountess. She was quite certain she would be very good at the position.
    * * *
    Reginald Montague sat sipping brandy, glaring at the noisy gaming tables around him while he waited for Darley to tear himself away from the ball and his latest folly. The viscount was too good a man to ever see the scheming qualities of another soul, and he was too diffident around women to see beyond their pretty paint and manners. The last two mercenary witches who had tried to dig their claws into him had been routed easily by Lady Agatha. This time, the little fraud had managed to fool even that daunting lady. How many others had she deceived? Was he the only one aware of the lady's true nature?
    If lady she were at all. Remembering her manner of dress and the fact that she had been all alone in an inn of a less-than-respectable nature, he had to doubt even that quality in the woman. The pretty young thing she had called sister seemed innocent enough, but then, looks were not the best cover to judge by. Even this spurious Lady Marian passed easily as a lady of quality in her fashionable gown, but her bold looks and saucy mouth betrayed her.
    The show she was putting on for Darley's benefit was very well done, so well done that Reginald thought she might be an actress. Perhaps he could investigate her true background. That would be the wisest course to take: confront Darley with cold facts instead of subjective opinions.
    Having decided that, Reginald waited with less impatience for his friend's appearance. He hadn't been looking forward to informing Darley of his inamorata's despicable behavior. Now he could keep his personal opinion out of it. He would set Bow Street on the matter tomorrow. It shouldn't be difficult to determine lies from truth if she wasn't Effingham's daughter. He might even present the facts to Lady Agatha first and let her lead the way. Darley more or less always bowed to that lady's opinions.
    By the time Darley arrived, Reginald was complacent with brandy and good intentions. When his friend took the seat across from him and demanded, "What did you think?" Reginald managed a good-natured smile.
    "I thought about the beefsteak I had for dinner, which horse I prefer in the spring meet, whether to attend Lady Jersey's fete or the boxing match, and any number of fascinating topics."
    Darley scowled and sipped the port the