The River of No Return

when Julia was younger, she and Bella were forever brewing up mischief of one kind or another. You must remember, Nickin. She was always over here, underfoot. They did terrible things.”
    Nick did have a vague memory of his little sister and her friend charging up and down the staircases, yodeling like beagles, but he had hardly been interested in girls three years his junior. “How terrible could two little girls be?”
    Clare laughed incredulously. “I will not even deign to answer that question. Except to remind you of the time, a few years before Papa’s death, when they let the pigs into the kitchen garden. Arabella did not care for carrots and they thought to ruin the year’s crop.”
    A memory floated back to him of little Bella at teatime, the rest of the family feasting on her favorite cake while she sat weeping, with nothing but a big carrot on her plate. “Julia was behind that prank?”
    “Oh, I don’t know whose idea it was, but she was certainly caught red-handed alongside Bella, exhorting the pigs to root up the gardeners’ hard work. Of course the poor animals were simply running wild all over the garden, trying to escape two screaming girls.”
    “Papa must have been enraged.”
    “I’m surprised they both survived into adulthood,” Clare said. “When they were discovered in their mischief-making, Bella lied or cried like any normal girl, but Julia stood like a queen and took her punishment. If she felt the accusation was just, she condescended to apologize for her actions. But if she felt the accusation was unfair, the scorn in her eye was withering. If she hadn’t been such a loving child, and so obviously in need of mothering, I believe Mother would have come to fear her.” Clare sighed. “I hate to think of someone of her spirit suffering confinement and perhaps . . . worse.” She turned an anxious face to Nick. “You don’t think there is any truth in the gossip? That she is his . . . ?”
    “No.” Nick stood and paced the room. “No. The girl I met today was no one’s mistress, willing or unwilling. But she was anxious about her own safety, and she did agree that she should come to us at Blackdown. Apparently she cannot get away from this cousin of hers. He seems to have some hold over her. It’s enough to drive me mad with worry for her.”
    Clare looked at him thoughtfully, her lips pursed. “Hmm,” she said.
    “Hmm what?”
    “Just hmm.”
    Nick twitched his cuffs into place. He had never been able to hide anything from the all-seeing older-sisterly powers of Clare. Of course that went two ways, and therefore he knew exactly what she was thinking when she said hmm . And she was perfectly right. This morning Julia had plucked his heart like it was nothing more than a strawberry hiding under a leaf. He loved her. He, Nick Davenant, né Nicholas Falcott. Or was it Falcott né Davenant? In any case, there it was. He was in love with a woman two hundred years in his past.
    Not that he was going to admit his feelings to Clare, or indeed to anyone. So he scowled. “May we please concentrate on how to get Julia from there to here?”
    Then, from across the room, Nick and Clare heard a delicate cough, and the Russian rose up from a leather armchair that faced the fire. “If I may offer my services?” The paternal benevolence of his smile encompassed them both.
    “For God’s sake, Lebedev. Don’t you know it is rude to eavesdrop?”
    “I beg your pardon.” Arkady examined his fingernails. “But I was happily dozing in this chair when you two barged in and began your so interesting conversation.”
    “Clare, I apologize for the count. If anyone is a barbarian, it is he.”
    Clare turned sparklingly to Arkady. “If you would care to join us, Count Lebedev? I’m sure your suggestions will be most welcome.”
    “I thank you.” He bowed, shooting Nick a triumphant glance, then strolled across the room. “The problems of your neighbors are tiresome. I came here to fry, how to say it, bigger fish?”
    Nick rolled his eyes. “I am desolate to learn that you find our society tedious and our problems beneath your interest.”
    Arkady brushed past Nick. “May I?” He indicated Nick’s old seat beside Clare, and Clare nodded. Arkady disposed himself gracefully and looked from one sibling to the other. “The rank of marquess, it is higher than the rank of earl, am I wrong?”
    “So what?” Nick crossed his arms over his chest.
    “This phrase, ‘so