Elinor glanced sharply at her son-in-law as she bent to examine Theo's injury. His expression was wry, but he offered no further explanation.

"I don't believe it's serious, ma'am. The skin isn't broken."

"No," she said, scrutinizing the bruising. "But you must have a headache, dear."

"Like the pounding of Thor's hammer, I should imagine," Sylvester said. "She should be in bed. You'll excuse us, I'm sure, if I see to it."

"Yes, of course. I'll suggest to Lady Gilbraith that she and Mary might join us for nuncheon in Brook Street. They've just gone upstairs to take off their hats." Elinor was unable to help herself from sounding a little weary. She'd already spent an interminable morning with them.

Sylvester shook his head as he scooped Theo off the sofa. "There's no need to put yourself out further, ma'am. If my mother is unable to amuse herself for the afternoon, then I'm afraid she must go to the devil."

Elinor struggled with herself for a second, then laughed. "An unfilial sentiment, Sylvester, but I can't help but agree with it. Come, girls. Theo needs to rest."

"I'm sure I don't really," Theo protested from her husband's arms as they went into the hall.

"There's resting and resting," Sylvester said blandly, mounting the stairs.

"But what about my sore head?"

"I wasn't intending to focus my attentions on your head."

"Ah," Theo said, shifting in his hold so she could put her arms around his neck. "That's all right, then."