"Respectable?" He repeated -- using the echo to once again buy himself time. As if he needed clarification on the term: one flung at him more often than he could recall. Respectable was exactly what Sharpe wasn't, according to many an observer. A red sash and a title made little difference off the field. And fame was a poor stand-in for noble blood.

Sharpe would not explain to Effie that her Jack -- or who he assumed to be her Jack -- was more publicly pledged to another woman. Like as not, she knew it. How could she not? Women so frightfully focused on their social standing always knew, even if they never said it aloud. Admitted it. Allowed it to come to nest in their hearts and minds.

So he took great pains to drag the conversation back on track: "Miss Trinket," he stiffened, "I merely want to see the members of this household kept safe. Out of trouble."