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Chapter One

London, 1881

“I find that a Ming bowl is like a woman’s breast,” Sir Lyndon Mather said to Ian Mackenzie, who held the bowl in question between his fingertips “The swelling curve, the crearee?”

Ian couldn’t think of a woman ould be flattered to have her breast compared to a bowl, so he didn’t bother to nod

The delicate vessel was froreen, the sides so thin Ian could see light through theons chased one another across the outside, and four chrysanthemums seemed to float across the bottom

The little vessel ht just cup a s to go “One thousand guineas,” he said

Mather’s sht ere friends”

Ian wondered where Mather had got that idea “The bowl is worth one thousand guineas” He fingered the slightly chipped ri Mather looked taken aback, blue eyes glittering in his overly handsome face

“I paid fifteen hundred for it Explain yourself” There was nothing to explain Ian’s rapidly calculating mind had taken in every asset and flaw in ten seconds flat

If Mather couldn’t tell the value of his pieces, he had no business collecting porcelain There were at least five fakes in the glass case on the other side of Mather’s collection rooered Mather had no idea Ian put his nose to the glaze, liking the clean scent that had survived the heavy cigar senuine, it was beautiful, and he wanted it “At least give me what I paid for it,” Mather said in a panicked voice “The uineas,” Ian repeated

“Da married”

Ian recalled the announce verbatim: Sir Lyndon Mather of St Aubrey’s, Suffolk, announces his betrothal to Mrs Tho to be held on the twenty-seventh of June of this year in St Aubrey’s at ten o’clock in the

“My felicitations,” Ian said

“I wish to buy et for the bowl”

Ian kept his gaze on the vessel “Why not give her the bowl itself?”

Mather’s hearty laugh filled the roo about porcelain She’ll want a carriage and aof servants to carry all the fripperies she buys I’ll give her that She’s a fine-looking wo in the tooth and a ”

Ian didn’t answer He touched the tip of his tongue to the bowl, reflecting that it was far better than ten carriages with matched teams Any woman who didn’t see the poetry in it was a fool