“Not mine,” he said decisively. “Only poor Charlotte’s. Lady Forester is her father’s sister and Clarence her cousin.”

“Your stepfather’s relatives,” she said.

“My mother’s second husband’s, yes.”

“You did not like him either?” It was a very impertinent question, she thought too late.

“He was godly and righteous and without sin,” he said with a smile. “He was also without humor, wit, compassion, or joy. He married my mother just before my first birthday and died just after my eighteenth. I will say no more. He was Charlotte’s father. And I would not spoil this very pleasant half hour with you, Miss Huxtable.”

Had it been that long? Half an hour? Gracious! She had not meant to be away from the main party for more than fifteen minutes at most. And how must it look to anyone who had noticed them sitting alone here together for so long? Though they were in a glass pavilion and fully visible from both the terrace and the lawn.

She got to her feet and brushed her hands over her skirt. He had not moved. He still sat at his ease on the wrought iron seat-oh, goodness, it really was narrow-his arm stretched out along the back of it.

“I daresay Meg is back from her boat ride with the Marquess of Allingham,” she said. “I must go and find her.”

“You must do what you must do, Miss Huxtable,” he said, his eyes smiling at her from beneath hooded lids again. “I shall remain here for as long as the fragrance of your hair lingers and is not overpowered by the less enticing scent of the roses.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “How absurd.”

“Life is full of absurdities,” he said. “Fortunately,” he added softly.

Katherine hurried away, feeling as if he had caressed her. How did he do that, without even touching her? There was something about his voice, something about his eyes…

I believe, he had said when she had asked how he would react if she told him he was heart of her heart, I might feel my heart beat faster and my soul stir to life from its long-dormant state.

She smiled.

I might also, he had added, claim to have won my wager.

She chuckled aloud.

There was no point in denying that she had enjoyed the last half hour.

And then she spotted Vanessa and Elliott, who were drinking wine on the terrace with another couple, and waved to them as she went to join them.

11

THE first inkling of trouble to come came to Jasper early the following morning when he went for a ride in Hyde Park despite the fact that the clouds were low and a misty drizzle was threatening to turn into an out-and-out rain. He had Rotten Row almost to himself, though Isaac Kerby and Hal Blackstone were there too, riding together.

They stopped when they saw him and waited for him to come up to them.

“Ho, Monty,” Hal called by way of greeting, “finding it hard to sleep at night, are you? Love is said to do that to a man.”

He grinned at Isaac, who grinned right back. As if something mightily witty had just been said.

Jasper raised one eyebrow.

“Love?” he said. “Affecting my sleep?”

“I have been telling Hal,” Isaac said, “about how Charlie and I were cruelly rebuffed yesterday at the Adams’s garden party.”

Jasper reined in his horse until it was moving at the same snail’s pace as theirs.

“Rebuffed?” he said. “Cruelly?”

They chose to be further amused.

“You see, Isaac,” Hal said, “love makes a man blind. He did not even see you.”

“Ah,” Isaac said, “then it must have been a fly he was wafting away, Hal, and Charlie and I were not after all being sent to perdition because Monty was smitten by the lady’s charms.”

Oh, the devil! Jasper realized suddenly what they were talking about.

“You would have to agree with me, Hal,” he said, “that Miss Katherine Huxtable is considerably prettier than either Charlie or Isaac. We admired the roses together. And I had an excellent sleep last night, thank you kindly.”

“Half an hour or longer to admire the roses,” Isaac said. “Did you count every petal on every single bloom, Monty? You had any number of people speculating-I heard them. It is most unlike you, you must admit, to seek out the lone company of any lady-in public. A word of advice, old chap. If you are not looking for a leg shackle, you had better count rose petals entirely alone in future. Or not at all unless you want all your friends believing that you are touched in the upper works.”

“It is a sorry state of affairs,” Jasper said, “when a man may not enjoy the company of a lady at a social event without risking a marriage trap.”

And yet all his adult life he had deliberately avoided just the sort of ridiculous speculation that he had apparently aroused yesterday. He must be more careful in the future.

“But the same lady with whom you waltzed at the Parmeter ball?” Isaac said, coming after him. “That must have been a sight worth seeing, Monty. I wish I had been there. I did not even know you could dance.”

“And the same lady, Monty,” Hal added, “with whom you walked the length of the park just a day or two after the ball? And the same lady who is to spend two weeks of the summer at Cedarhurst?”

“Ah, you know about that, do you?” Jasper asked.

“Merton mentioned it when I ran into him last evening,” Hal explained.

“Then you also know,” Jasper said, “that Merton himself and the eldest Miss Huxtable are to be at Cedarhurst too-all of them as guests of my sister.”

But his friends would only laugh.

He really must be more careful, Jasper decided. He had been enjoying the challenge of flirting with Katherine Huxtable so much that he had been neglecting the caution he had practiced for years. That very caution was his potential downfall now, of course. It was apparently so unusual to see Lord Montford spending more than thirty seconds at a time with any lady of ton that everyone and his dog sat up and noticed when he did.

It was not a problem that weighed heavily on his mind, though. Any incipient gossip would soon die down when he stayed away from the lady.

The fresh morning air-even the water droplets against his face-felt invigorating. He looked forward to another day of pleasurable activities, beginning with this ride along an unusually empty Rotten Row. He urged his mount to a gallop, and his friends fell into place on either side of him.

The first inkling of trouble came to Katherine via Constantine. He came to call upon her and Margaret the afternoon following the garden party. They had stayed at home because the weather had turned. Fine drizzle had alternated with heavier rain all morning, and the clouds had begun to break up only when the afternoon was too far advanced for them to make plans for an outing.

They were glad they had remained at home when Constantine came. They both enjoyed his company and had it all too infrequently. He took tea with them and stayed for half an hour before getting to his feet to leave.

“The sun is trying its best to shine at last,” he said, looking toward the window. “I brought my curricle with me. I can take only one passenger, I am afraid, or I would invite you both to take a turn about the park with me.”

“Thank you, but I would refuse anyway, Constantine,” Margaret said. “I find riding in sporting vehicles pure terror. I need a barouche or a gig or a closed carriage in order to feel safe.”

He stood smiling down at her.

“I will borrow a barouche one day, then,” he said, “and come back for you, Margaret. Would you care to ride up with me today, Katherine, or are you trembling in your slippers too?”

She had looked wistfully at the sunshine beyond the window when he had drawn their attention to it. She hated to spend a whole day indoors.