And without further ado, he offered his arm again, she took it, and they resumed their walk back to the picnic site.

They must have been gone forever, Alice thought, peering ahead and being quite unable at first to see two seated figures where she expected to see them on the slope. But the next time she looked, there they were, seated side by side, the picnic basket off to one side of them.

She was feeling surprisingly hungry.

She was also feeling oddly elated. He would not condemn her if she had done it. But he did not believe she had.

And he believed women – wives – were to be loved and cherished and protected.

During tea Stephen amused himself with thoughts of what his friends would think if they knew he was sitting here now in Richmond Park, sharing a picnic tea with the infamous Lady Paget and her companion and a politician's secretary. It was /not/ what anyone would expect of the Earl of Merton. Indeed, there would be a number of people looking for him at Lady Castleford's garden party this afternoon.

Yet he was enjoying himself enormously. The tea Golding had brought with him, presumably prepared by a caterer, was delicious. But picnic fare was always more appetizing than any other, he had found.

It struck him too, and also with some amusement, that if he had not inherited his title so unexpectedly, /he/ would quite possibly be someone's secretary by now and proud of the fact.

Everyone seemed to be sharing his enjoyment. The conversation was lively, and they all did their share of laughing. Even Miss Haytor, whose cheeks were flushed and whose eyes were bright. She looked decidedly handsome, and had seemed to have shed a year of age for every hour of the afternoon.

Cassandra herself seemed to have lost years along with her companion.

She usually looked all of her twenty-eight years. Today she looked several years younger.

It was still early when they finished eating.

"I suppose," Golding said, "I ought not to have suggested such an early hour for leaving Lady Paget's. There is still much remaining of the warmest part of the day. It seems a shame to leave so soon."

It was a concern they all seemed to share. They did not want the afternoon to end.

"Perhaps," Miss Haytor suggested, "Cassie and Lord Merton would care to go for a stroll while you and I guard the blanket and the picnic basket, Mr. Golding."

"Oh, that /would/ be pleasant," Cassandra said, getting to her feet before Stephen could offer either his assistance or his opinion. "After eating all that food, I am in dire need of some exercise."

"There are some trees to climb," Stephen said with a grin as he got up to join her. "But perhaps it would be more sedate to walk instead. Ma'am?"

He offered his arm, and Cassandra took it. Miss Haytor was regarding him with some severity as they turned away. Perhaps he ought not to have made that remark about climbing trees in her hearing.

"I believe," he said when they were out of earshot, "the picnic must be deemed a success."

"Alice," she said, "has been positively glowing, has she not? I have never seen her quite like this. Oh, Stephen, do you think – "

But she did not complete the thought.

"I do indeed," he said. "I think they are very pleased with each other.

Whether anything more develops from the connection remains to be seen and is up to them."

"The voice of caution," she said with a sigh. "I hope she does not get hurt."

"People do not always get hurt," he said. "Sometimes they find love, Cass. And peace."

"Oh." She smiled. "Do they? Do they really? I will wish those things for Alice, then – love and peace. And partly for a selfish reason. I will feel less guilty for having clung to her all these years."

Instead of going down the slope and walking along the grassy valley as the other two had done, he led them along the crest of the rise, winding their way among the ancient oaks, dipping their heads to avoid branches.

He liked the view from up here, the seclusion, the shade from the brightness of the sun. He liked the proximity of trees.

They walked in a silence that was companionable while he counted days.

There had been the day in the park when Con had pointed out the black-clad widow and remarked that it must be as hot as Hades beneath her black clothes and veil. There had been Meg's ball the evening of the following day and their first night together. There had been the drive in the park and the second night. There had been the formal visit yesterday with Meg and Kate to take tea with Cassandra and Miss Haytor.

And… there was today. No matter how he counted, back from today or forward from that ride in the park, the total was the same.

Four days.

That was as long as he had known Cassandra. Not even a week. Not even close.

It felt as if he had known her for weeks or months.

And yet he did not know her very well at all, did he? He knew almost nothing about her.

"Tell me," he said, "about your marriage."

She turned her head sharply to look at him.

"My marriage?" she said. "What is there to say that you do not already know?"

"How did you meet him?" he asked her. "Why did you marry him?"

Their steps had slowed and now stopped altogether. She slipped her hand from his arm and took a few steps to the side so that she could lean back against a giant trunk. He followed her, though he did not stand too close. He rested one arm on a low, sturdy branch. The trunk itself would have hidden them from the picnic blanket. But a glance over the top of the branch assured him that they were out of sight anyway. They had walked farther than he thought.

"We never had a fixed home," she said. "And there was never stability or security in our house. There was no lack of affection, but it was carelessly given. My father was very sociable, and he often invited gentlemen back to wherever we were living at the time. Always gentlemen, never ladies. It was of no concern to me until I was fifteen or so.

Indeed, I always enjoyed the company and the occasional notice the gentlemen took of me. I enjoyed having my father sometimes set me on his knee while he talked to them all. But after I started to grow up, I had to endure leers and risquГ© remarks – and a few surreptitious touches and pinches. Once a kiss. My father would not have allowed any of it had he known, of course. He had illusions about sometime giving me a Season and seeing to it that I met all the right people. He was a baronet, after all. But he did not know what was happening under his own nose, and I never told him. It was never bad enough to be dangerous, though it got worse as I grew older."

"You /ought/ to have told him," he said.

"Perhaps." She shrugged. "But I had nothing to which to compare my life.

I took it as normal. And Alice was always there to offer some protection. Then one day Baron Paget came home with my father, and he kept coming. He and my father were friends – they were about the same age.

He was different from the others. He was kind and invariably courtly and gentle in manner, and he started to tell me about his home in the country, where he spent most of his time, and about the park surrounding the house, and the village and neighborhood. As far as I knew he did not gamble. Then, one day, when we were alone together – my father had left the room for some reason – he told me it could all be mine if I would do him the great honor of marrying him. He knew I could bring no dowry to the marriage, he told me. It did not matter. All he wanted was me. He would make a generous marriage settlement on me, and he would love and cherish me for the rest of his life. At first I was dismayed – but only for a short while. You cannot understand, perhaps, the great temptation his offer was to me – for a life of security and stability in a rural heaven. He seemed to be a man like my father but with all the flaws stripped away. I suppose I married him more as a father than as a husband."