appointed space, with shelves of “treasures” Sterling had collected from all over the world. He had a penchant for religious figurines and small portraits with eyes that met your gaze no matter where you stood in the room. It was a disconcerting feeling to be so coldly watched by dozens of eyes and they had secretly inspired more than one of her ghost stories. She made quick work of the dusting, stopping only to stick her tongue out at a particularly ugly statuette of a fat man whose turban was in the midst of transforming into a snake. He smirked at her with a brass grin nonplussed. “Enjoy the jest, horrid thing,” she whispered. “I’m betting you wouldn’t be so content if you knew how quickly you’d end up in the rubbish bin if I had my say in the matter.” “Grace!” Sterling exclaimed from the doorway. “Tell me you are not talking to my artwork!” She wheeled around, instantly anxious. “Of course not!” Sterling crossed his arms. “Then who were you addressing just then?” She folded her hands in front of her. “I was merely speaking my thoughts aloud, brother.” “A horrible habit you will break instantly!” he announced as he came into the room. “Bad enough that you speak your mind when there are human beings in the room, sister, much less nattering away like a lunatic!” “As bad as that? I’ll refrain from thinking aloud.” She tried to tease him out of his dark mood. “But the houseplants will be so disappointed to miss our chats.” “Grace!” His eyes darkened with fury. He moved to take a seat behind his desk before making one impatient gesture toward the chair across from him. “Sit.” “Yes.” She dutifully perched on the upholstery and waited expectantly, trying to ignore the taste of dread that flooded her mouth. “You look displeased.” He shook his head. “I want to talk to you about this upcoming dinner.” “Of course. It was very generous of you to—“ “You’ll wear your best gown and you’ll make an effort to limit your comments to the most innocuous and inoffensive topics allowed.” Her brother pulled his pipe from a carved wooden box on the desktop and began to light it. “I want you to be as agreeable and appealing as humanly possible.” Grace blinked a few times, unwilling to trust her ears. “My best gown? Is Mr. Rutherford…is he truly a good friend then that you’re so anxious to—“ “What he is to me is none of your concern,” Sterling said firmly. The match in his fingers flared as it caught, creating a fleeting distortion of his features in its light. “You’ll be on your best behavior, Grace, and strive not to disappoint or embarrass me.” She nodded. “I always do. But appealing? I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.” He rolled his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giving him a witty answer and instead held her place and her tongue. Sterling cleared his throat and tried again. “This evening is very important to me. For once, do as you are told. Behave.” “Yes.” “I won’t keep you from your duties any longer.” He said dismissively and then leaned back in his chair, drawing on his pipe. She stood slowly. “I’ve spoken to Mrs. Dorsett about the menu and amended it for presentation and for economy. I’ve arranged to have two extra servants to make things run more smoothly and to allow for a good impression.” She let out a slow breath to steady her nerves. “Rather than just behaving like a lady, I hope my brother is wise enough to allow me to act like one and organize the social details as I see fit.” His gaze narrowed but he finally nodded. “By all means.” She left at his concession, turning on her heels and departing with as much dignity as she could muster. Her confusion about Mr. Rutherford’s return was coalescing into a strange storm but there was no remedy for it. Sterling’s reversal toward Mr.