The door from his dressing room finally opened and Augusta looked up from where she sat on a footstool in front of the fire. He leaned against the door in a silk banyan and smiled wickedly.

"Promise me, wife, that you're going to do something to cheer this mausoleum up a bit. The house itself is wonderful, but the décor..." he broke off with an exaggerated shudder.

"It's all expensive, excellent quality," she agreed. "But a wee bit...dark?" She couldn't help but be ...