7 Mayfair Square, London. 1820

"You cannot trust the young.

"I thought I had made myself very clear: I am too old and too busy and too important to waste time on tasks that should not require my superior talents. To this end I expected to be free of my more youthful relatives' muddles by now.

"They are impossible.

"They have squandered the opportunities I provided them.

"Ah, well. And so it goes. Once more I must be the one to step in and save the day. Without me, foolish Hester and that boy Hunter will undoubtedly lose this beautiful house entirely. I must rescue the family -- yet again -- and do so without revealing my fine hand in the matter for even an instant. As I have today, I must find disgracefully devious, but necessary ways to gain information on the lay of the land.

"When I left Mayfair Square -- that was some years ago, but considerably later than should have been necessary -- when I left I said I'd done everything I intended to do, that they had benefited greatly from my endeavors and did not deserve further assistance. I told them that in future they must manage without me. To allow them to know I have weakened would only make them more demanding, more dependent.

"I will warn you at once that my patience and my restrained sensibilities will doubtless be tried almost beyond endurance. There will be moments when I shall simply have to absent myself from events that I cannot condone or control. Please understand that if I could, I would shield you from the more flamboyant escapades I expect from those who have not learned to suppress the impulses of the heart (and body) and listen to intellect alone. Unfortunately I know matters will get out of hand and there won't be a thing I can do about this.

"There are lodgers at 7 Mayfair Square. Lodgers!

"In a house that was once a center of culture, of musicales and soirees, to say nothing of intimate gatherings where only the most elite could hope to share the delicious honor of being invited -- in this house there are, even as I write to you, three floors occupied by paying strangers.

"The shame of it nearly overwhelms me, but I do not have time for such self-indulgence. I must act, and act quickly. And I ask you to forgive me if my methods become -- from necessity -- less than, shall we say, conventional?

"You will? Of course, you will, I knew you were too sensible not to support me.

"So, it is time to begin. I am persuaded that my best chance of speedy success lies in dealing with these interlopers one by one, or should I say, floor by floor. First we will convince the brother and sister on the ground floor (offspring of a Cornish merchant -- I shudder at the thought -- a merchant involved in China Clay) to leave. Latimer and Finch More. Common names, but what can one expect of a tradesman's family? Latimer has a small import business. Oddities and rarities, so I'm told. And Finch catalogs offerings and deals with clients. More & More they call themselves. No doubt they consider that quite clever, but I have little patience with these new and flippant ideas embraced by those with little understanding of the value of well-bred reserve.

"Fortnum and Mason, Limited. Of Piccadilly, of course. Now there's a solid, no-nonsense name for a company. The original Mason owned a small shop on his own at first. Then his friend Fortnum -- that was William who was a footman in the royal household -- Fortnum retired and they became partners. Traded through the East India Company. They imported really exotic stuff. Hartshorn, Gable Worm Seed, Dirty White Candy. Those are items you will remember because they are worth remembering. Fortnum and Mason's cocoa powder even went on the expedition to find the Northwest Passage last year.

"I only remind you of these things to make a point. Fortnum and Mason always knew their places. Straightforward tradesmen. You wouldn't find them getting above their station by insinuatin' themselves into the households of the ton.

"I must collect myself.

"The challenge will be to bring about events that will encourage the upstart Mores to move along. At present they are much too happy at Number 7, but I do have a plan.

"Young Ross, Viscount Kilrood, lives next door at 8 Mayfair Square. He's a Scotsman who bought the property from Lord and Lady St. Germaine, not that we are concerned with such details here. But Ross will definitely play a large part in what will happen during the weeks to come.

"He is a glowering fellow. Angry, I rather think. I have heard a rumor that he was engaged, but his intended married his brother instead, and Kilrood has never recovered, or some such poppycock. But he has visited with the Mores on occasion. Something to do with a commission he has for them. Anyway, I am given to believe that he has looked a little longer than might be expected -- at Miss More. Can't imagine why, myself. Plain stick of a thing from my observance. But no matter. The man has obviously deprived himself of female company for too long and consequently is no longer a fair judge of feminine attributes. I shall take advantage of his growing need.

"Ahem. Forgive me if I am less than subtle. However, as I've told you, these young blades will stoop to less-than-admirable behavior anyway. I am simply forced to take advantage of human nature -- for a higher cause, of course. But I shall, you may rest assured, choose to avoid actually watching.

"I grow tired. As I have said, I am old and deserve to rest upon my laurels. I shall do so, at least for tonight.

"Tomorrow the work truly begins. And it may be a great deal of work to ensure that Viscount Kilrood is forced to take More & More into his home -- and away from Number 7.

"Hah. It is time to embark on Kilrood's seduction of Miss Finch More."