He looked down at her, as if he could read her every thought. “I’m going to need your word, Meg.”
Her name on his lips was like hot tea on a cold day.
“Meg.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m not keen to throw myself in front of a bullet for a handful of old pottery.”
“A bullet,” he shook his head. “And here I thought toffs only knew about horses and wine.”
“They are each to a one relentless.” She paused. “But then again you have an advantage few can claim.”
“You?”
“Hardly.” She grinned. “But you will have Lady Blackwell in the house and she is positively ruthless.”
“The same sweet old lady who matches her dog’s collar to her gown every morning?”
“Utterly ruthless,” Meg insisted. “And the dog’s a biter too.”
He laughed. “Duly noted.”