The helicopter came down over Montclair Hall just after noon, flattening the manicured lawns in a wash of wind that sent the gardeners scattering toward the hedges.

Jason stepped out first, hood up, hands in the pocket of his black sweater, looking like a man out for a quiet stroll. Georgina followed in a cream coat and pearls, a small black box tucked under one arm. Two of Mark's men trailed a respectful distance behind.

Nobody stopped them.

The butler took one look at the crest on Georgina's brooch, went the color of old paper, and simply opened the front doors.

"Lady Williams," he stammered. "The countess did not say...