"A bathing room, your grace," the footman replied and bowed again.

"A bathing room?" Alexandra repeated, staring in wonder at the gold faucets and graceful marble pillars that stood at the perimeter of the bathing pool, then soared to the ceiling beneath a round skylight.

"Master Jordan believed in modern-i-zations, your grace," the footman put in and Alexandra turned at the sound of pride and fondness in the old servant's voice.

"I'd rather be called simply 'Miss Alexandra,' " she explained with a warm smile. He looked so appalled that she conceded," 'Lady Alexandra' then. Did you know my husband well?"

"Better'n any of the staff, 'cept Mr. Smarth, the head groom." Sensing that he had an avid audience in Lady Alexandra, Gibbons promptly volunteered to give her a tour of the house and grounds, which lasted all of three hours and included visits to Jordan's favorite boyhood haunts, as well as introductions to Smarth, the head groom, who offered to tell her "all about Master Jordan," whenever she came down to the stables.

Late in the afternoon, Gibbons finished the tour by taking Alexandra to two places, one of which instantly became her favorite. It was the long gallery where a double row of life-size portraits of the previous eleven dukes of Hawthorne were displayed in identical gilt frames upon the long walls, along with other portraits of their wives and children.

"My husband was the handsomest of them all," she declared after studying each portrait.

"Me and Mr. Higgins have said that very thing ourselves."

"But his portrait isn't here with the other dukes."

"I heard him tell Master Anthony that he had better things to do with his time than stand about looking important and dignified." He nodded toward two of the portraits on the upper row. "That's him, right there—as a young boy, and then when he was sixteen. His papa insisted he stand for that last one, and Master Jordan was mad as fire about it."

A smile dawned across. Alexandra's pale features as she looked up at the little boy with the dark curly hair standing solemnly beside a beautiful blond lady with sultry grey eyes. Standing on the other side of her thronelike red velvet chair was a handsome, unsmiling man with broad shoulders and the proudest features Alexandra had ever seen.

The last place Gibbons took her was to a rather small room on the third floor that smelled as if it had been closed for a very long time. Three small desks faced a much larger desk at the front of the room, and an old globe stood on a brass stand.

"This here's the schoolroom," Gibbons said. "Young Master Jordan spent more time tryin' to git out o' it than he spent inside it. Then Master Jordan felt the side of Mr. Rigly's cane more than once for neglectin' his studyin'. Still, he learnt what-all he needed to know. Smart as a whip he was."

Alexandra's gaze scanned the austere little room, then came to an abrupt stop at the desk right beside her. Carved into the top of it were the initials J-A-M-T. Jordan's initials. She touched them tenderly while glancing around with a mixture of pleasure and uneasiness. How very unlike her grandfather's cheerful, disorderly study where she had eagerly learned her own lessons this gloomy, austere place seemed. How unthinkable it was to be caned by one's teacher, instead of fascinated by him.

When the footman finally bade her goodbye, Alexandra stopped once more at the gallery to gaze upon the likeness of her husband as a sixteen-year-old. Looking up at him, she whispered solemnly, "I'll make you proud of me, my love, I promise."

In the days that followed, Alexandra embarked on that task with all the determination and intelligence she possessed, memorizing entire pages of Debrett's Peerage, and poring over volumes on conduct, convention, and protocol which the duchess gave her. Her diligence quickly earned the duchess' approval, as did everything else Alexandra did—with two significant exceptions, both of which led the duchess to summon Anthony to her drawing room a week after the family had arrived at Hawthorne.

"Alexandra is fraternizing with Gibbons and Smarth," she declared in tones of bewilderment and grave concern. "She's already conversed more with them than I have in the last forty years."

Anthony lifted his brows and said blandly, "She regards servants as family. That was evident when she asked us if her butler and footman might come here. It's a harmless attitude."

"You won't think Filbert and Penrose are 'harmless' when you see them," the duchess shot back darkly. "They arrived this morning."

Anthony recalled Alexandra had described her two servants as elderly, and started to say it. "They're—"

"Deaf and blind!" the indignant dowager declared. "The butler can't hear a word that isn't roared into his ear and the footman walks into doors and into the butler! Regardless of Alexandra's tender feelings, we shall have to keep them out of sight when we are receiving callers. We can't allow guests to see them crashing into each other in the front hall and shouting the walls down.

When Anthony looked amused rather than alarmed, she glowered at him. "If you will not see that as objectionable, I've little hope of persuading you to discontinue your fencing matches with Alexandra each morning. It is an entirely unacceptable endeavor for any young lady, besides requiring the wearing of—of breeches!"

Anthony was no more inclined to see his grandmother's side on this matter than he'd been on the subject of fraternization with servants. "For my sake and for Alexandra's I hope you won't forbid her to fence with me. It's harmless enough and she enjoys it. She says it keeps her fit."

"And for your sake?" the duchess said irritably.

Anthony grinned. "She's a formidable opponent, and she keeps me in top form. Jordan and I were considered two of the best swordsmen in England, but I have to work to hold my own with Alexandra, and she still bests me about half the time."

When Tony left, the dowager gazed helplessly at the empty chair across from her, knowing full well why she had not been willing to speak to Alexandra about the issues she'd just discussed with Anthony: She simply could not bear to dampen Alexandra's spirits, not when she knew how valiantly Alexandra was trying to be cheerful. For nearly a week, Alexandra's heartwarming smile and musical laughter had brightened the entire atmosphere at Hawthorne. And as the duchess well knew, Alexandra was smiling, not because she felt like it, but because she was desperately trying to buoy up everyone's spirits—including her own. She was, the duchess thought, a unique combination of candor, gentleness, determination, and courage.

Unaware that she had done aught to distress the duchess, Alexandra adjusted herself to the rigid routine of formal living in a ducal mansion. As spring drifted into summer, she continued with her studies and spent her free time wandering about the beautiful grounds or visiting the vast Hawthorne stables where Smarth told her wonderful stories about Jordan as a boy and a young man. Like Gibbons the footman, Smarth was a great fan of Master Jordan, and, within a few weeks, Smarth was completely won over by the charming girl Master Jordan had married.