"Really?" Harriet was excited. She barely noticed that Applegate's knee was perilously close to her own. The skirts of her gown were once more in danger of being crushed. "Is Mr. Humboldt a member of the Society?"

"Used to be," Applegate said. "But he declared us all hopeless amateurs and resigned out of hand. He is a rather odd individual. Very secretive about his work and highly suspicious of others."

"I can understand that." Harriet made a mental note to schedule a visit to Mr. Humboldt's Museum at the next available opportunity.

Applegate took a deep breath and fixed her with a very serious expression. "Miss Pomeroy, would you mind very much if we changed the topic of our conversation to what I feel is a more pressing matter?"

"What matter is that?" Harriet wondered what hours Mr. Humboldt's Museum was open. Perhaps there would be an advertisement in the papers.

Applegate ran his finger around the inside of his cravat, loosening it. There was a sheen of moisture on his brow. "I fear you will find me importunate."

"Nonsense. Ask away, my lord." Harriet glanced around the buzzing room. The subject of forgeries was certainly turning out to be a matter of deep interest among the members of the Society.

"The thing is, Miss Pomeroy. That is to say…" Applegate tugged at his cravat again and cleared his throat. He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "The thing is, I cannot bring myself to believe that you are engaged to St. Justin."

That remark brought Harriet's attention instantly back to Applegate. She frowned. "Why on earth do you have trouble believing it, sir?"

Applegate was looking somewhat desperate now, but he plunged gamely on. "Forgive me, Miss Pomeroy, but you are far too good for him."

"Too good for him?"

"Yes, Miss Pomeroy. Much too good. Too fine by half. I can only believe he is somehow forcing you into this alliance."

"Applegate, have you lost your senses?"

Applegate leaned forward earnestly, daring to touch her hand. His fingers were trembling with the depths of his emotion. "You may confide the truth in me, Miss Pomeroy. I will help you to escape the clutches of the Beast of Blackthorne Hall."

Harriet's eyes widened in anger. She put down her teacup with a small crash and got to her feet. "Really, sir. You go much too far. I will not tolerate that sort of talk. If you would be my friend, you must refrain from it."

She turned away from a much abashed Applegate and walked briskly across the room to join a small group that was discussing methods of detecting forgeries.

It was all becoming increasingly overwhelming, Harriet thought unhappily. She wondered how Gideon had survived the gossip for six long years. She was already more than ready to leave Town and never return, and it was not her honor which was in question.

Felicity's observation about Gideon putting his exotic pet fiancée on display was forcibly reaffirmed for Harriet that afternoon. She had been looking forward to the drive in the park. Indeed, under any other conditions, she would have enjoyed it immensely. The day was a very fine one, crisp and sunny and invigorating.

Felicity supervised the selection of Harriet's gown and pelisse.

"Definitely the yellow muslin with the turquoise pelisse," Felicity proclaimed. "With, I think, the turquoise bonnet. It suits your eyes. Do not forget your gloves."

Harriet studied herself in the looking glass. "You do not think it is a bit bright?"

Felicity smiled knowingly. "It is very bright. And you look wonderful. You will stand out in the park and St. Justin will appreciate that. He'll want to make certain everyone notices you."

Harriet glowered at her, but said nothing. She was afraid that Felicity was right.

Gideon arrived in front of Aunt Adelaide's townhouse in a bright yellow driving phaeton. The dashing carriage was horsed by two huge, powerful-looking beasts. The animals did not match in color as was the fashion. One was a bulky, muscled chestnut and the other was a monstrous gray. Both looked as if they would be extremely difficult to manage, but they appeared very well behaved. Harriet was suitably impressed.

"What magnificent animals, my lord," she said as Gideon handed her up onto the high seat of the phaeton. "I will wager they can run at full gallop for hours. They appear very sturdy."

"They are," Gideon said. "And you are quite correct about their stamina. But I assure you, Minotaur and Cyclops are barely worthy of pulling this carriage now that you are seated in it. You are looking very charming this afternoon."

Harriet sensed the cool satisfaction behind the gallant words and she glanced quickly at Gideon. She could read nothing in the strong, set lines of his face, however. He vaulted easily up onto the seat beside her and collected the reins.

Harriet was not surprised to discover that Gideon handled the team with cool mastery. He deftly guided the horses along the crowded thoroughfare and then turned into the park. There they joined the throng of elegantly dressed people who had turned out in every manner of carriage and on horseback to see and be seen.

Harriet was aware at once that she and Gideon were the focus of a great deal of immediate attention. Everyone they passed gazed at the couple in the yellow phaeton with varying degrees of politeness and avid curiosity. Some simply stared boldly. Others nodded aloofly and slid assessing glances over Harriet. Several could not take their eyes off Gideon's scarred face. And a few raised eyebrows at the sight of the unfashionable horses.

Gideon appeared totally unaware of the attention he and Harriet were receiving, but Harriet began to grow increasingly uneasy. It occurred to her that she would have felt awkward even if Felicity had not made her comments about exotic pet fiancées.

"I understand you danced the waltz with Morland last night," Gideon said after a period of silence. He sounded as though he were merely commenting on the weather.

"Yes," Harriet admitted. "He has been very kind to both Felicity and me since we appeared in Town. He claims he is an old friend of yours, sir."

"That was a long time ago," Gideon murmured, his attention on his horses as he guided them through a crowded section of the path. "I think it would be best if you did not dance with him again."

Harriet, already on edge because of all the stares, reacted more sharply than she might have otherwise. "Are you saying you do not approve of Mr. Morland, sir?"

"That is precisely what I am saying, my dear. If you wish to dance the waltz, I shall be happy to partner you."

Harriet was flustered. "Well, of course I should much prefer to dance with you, my lord. You know that. But I am told that engaged women and even married women frequently dance with a great many other people besides their fiancés and husbands. It is fashionable to do so."

"You do not need to concern yourself with fashion, Harriet. You will set your own style."

"It sounds to me as though you are trying to set my style." Harriet turned her head to avoid the frank gaze of a man on horseback. She was sure he said something quite odious to his friend as they passed the phaeton. An unpleasant laugh drifted back on the breeze.

"I am trying to avoid trouble," Gideon said quietly. "You are a sensible woman, Harriet. You have trusted me before and you must trust me again. Stay clear of Morland."

"Why?" she demanded baldly.

Gideon's jaw tightened. "I do not think it is necessary to go into the reasons."

"Well, I do. I am not a green chit fresh out of the schoolroom, my lord. If you wish me to do something or not do something, you must explain why." A thought struck her, squelching her incipient defiance. She smiled tremulously. "If you are jealous of Mr. Morland, I assure you, there is no need. I did not enjoy dancing the waltz with him nearly as much as I enjoy it with you."