"Who's the man standing by the duke?"

"Oh, that's just the Gargoyle."

"I beg your pardon?" Sunny glanced at her godmother, not sure that she'd heard correctly.

"Lord Justin Aubrey, Thornborough's younger brother, better known as the Gargoyle," Katie explained. "He manages the duke's estate, which means he's scarcely more than a farmer."

A line etched between her brows, Sunny studied the dark young man. While not handsome, his face had a certain rugged distinction. "Why was he given such an unkind nickname? He's no Mr. Curzon, but neither is he ugly."

"The Aubreys are known for being tall, blond and aristocratic, and Lord Justin is none of those things. He's always scowling and has no conversation at all." Katie smiled naughtily. "One would have to question what his dear mother had been up to, except that every now and then the Aubreys produce one like him. The youngest Aubrey daughter, Lady Alexandra, resembles him, poor girl. I imagine she's around here somewhere. She's known as the Gargoylette."

Sunny's frown deepened. "I'm sorry to think that these handsome people have such cruel tongues."

"They are no more and no less cruel than. New York society," Lady Westron said dryly. "Human nature is much the same everywhere."

Sunny's gaze lingered on Lord Justin. Though not tall, neither was he short; he appeared to be of average height, perhaps an inch or two taller than she. She guessed that he was in his late twenties, but his stern expression made him seem older. He also looked as if he thoroughly disapproved of the splendid gathering around him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Katie exclaiming, "Lord Hancock is over there! I had hoped that he would be here today. Come along, dear, you must meet him."

After another wistful glance at the gardens, Sunny obediently followed her godmother.

The eighth Duke of Thrnborough sampled a strawberry from one of the mounds on the refreshment table. "Splendid flavor." He reached for another. "You've been getting remarkable results from the greenhouses."

Justin Aubrey shrugged. "I only give the orders, Gavin. It's the gardeners who do the real work."

"But someone must still give the right orders, and it isn't going to be me." The duke consumed several more strawberries, then washed them down with champagne. "Relax, Justin. You've worked for weeks to make my fete a success, so you should try to enjoy the results. Everyone is having a cracking good time."

"That's fortunate, considering that this little event is costing over two thousand pounds." Money which could have been much better spent.

Gavin made an airy gesture. "The Duke of Thornborough has an obligation to maintain a certain style. After I marry May, there will be ample money for those boring repairs that you keep talking about."

Justin gave his brother a shrewd glance. "You and Mrs. Russell have reached a firm understanding?"

Gavin nodded. "We'll be making an announcement soon. A late summer wedding, I think. You can plan on fixing the roof directly after, so it will be right and tight by winter." He cast an experienced eye over the crowd. "I see that Katie Westron has a lovely creature in tow. It must be the Gilded Girl. I hear she's cutting quite a swath through London society. The Prince has already invited her to visit Sandringham."

"Then her social reputation is made," Justin agreed with barely perceptible irony. "But who is the Gilded Girl?"

"Sarah Vangelder, the fairest flower of the Vangelder railroad fortune." The duke’s tone turned speculative. "They say she's the greatest heiress ever to cross the Atlantic."

Justin followed his brother's gaze to where the heiress stood talking with three besotted males. As soon as he located her, his heart gave an odd lurch. Sarah Vangelder was the quintessential American beauty-tall, slender and crowned with a lustrous mass of honey-colored hair. She also had an engaging air of innocent enthusiasm that made him want to walk over and introduce himself. A beautiful woman, not his. The world was full of them, he reminded himself. Aloud, he said only, "Very fetching."

"Perhaps I should reconsider marrying May," Gavin said pensively. "They say Augusta Vangelder wants to see the girl a duchess. Should I offer her the noble same of Thornborough?"

Justin's mouth tightened. Though he loved his brother, he had no illusions about the duke's character. "You'd find a young innocent a flat bore."

"Very likely you're right," Gavin agreed. His gaze lingered. "Still, she's quite lovely."

Three peeresses and two Cabinet ministers came over to pay their respects to their host. Justin seized the opportunity to escape, for the constant chatter was driving him mad. He would have preferred to be elsewhere, but he could hardly avoid a party taking place in his own backyard.

Avoiding the formal parterre where many of the guests were strolling, he made his way to the rhododendron garden, which had been carefully designed to look like wild woods. There was a risk that he would find some of Gavin's fashionable friends fornicating beneath the silver birches, but with luck, they would all be more interested in champagne and gossip than in dalliance.

Half an hour in the wilder sections of the park relaxed him to the point where he felt ready to return to the festivities. Not that anyone was likely to miss him, but he liked to keep an eye on the arrangements to ensure that everything ran smoothly.

As he walked through a grove of Scottish pines, he heard a feminine voice utter a soft but emphatic, "Drat!"

He turned toward the voice, and a few more steps brought the speaker into his view.

It was the Gilded Girl. But that was too flippant a nickname, for the sunlight that shafted through the pine needles made her honey hair and creamy gown glow as if she were Titania, the fairy queen. He halted unnoticed at the edge of the clearing, experiencing again that strange, unsteady feeling.

A vine had snagged the back hem of Miss Vangelder's elegant bustled walking gown, and she was trying to free herself by poking with the tip of her lace parasol. Any other woman would have seemed ungraceful, but not the heiress. She looked playful, competent and altogether enchanting.

In the wooden voice he used to conceal unseemly feelings, he said, "May I be of assistance?"

The girl looked up with a startled glance, then smiled with relief. "You certainly can! Otherwise, my gown is doomed, and Mr. Worth will be terribly cross with me if he ever finds out."

Justin knelt and began trying to disentangle her hem. "Does it matter what a dressmaker thinks?"

"Mr. Worth is not a dressmaker, but an artiste. I'm told that I was singularly fortunate that he condescended to see me personally. After examining me like a prize turkey, he designed every ensemble right down to the last slipper and scarf." She gave a gurgle of laughter. "I was informed in no uncertain terms that any substitutions would be disastrous."

The vine was remarkably tenacious. As Justin tried to loosen it without damaging the heavy ecru silk, he asked, "Do you always do what others wish you to do?"

"Generally," she said with wry self-understanding. "life is easier when I do."

Her skirt finally came free, and he got to his feet. "I'm Justin Aubrey, by the way.''

"I'm Sarah Vangelder, but most people call me Sunny." She offered her hand, and a smile that melted his bones.

She was tall, her eyes almost level with his. He had assumed that they would be blue, but the color was nearer aqua, as deep and changeable as the sea. He drew a shaken breath, then bowed over her hand. Straightening, he said, "You should not be here alone, Miss Vangelder."

"I know," she said blithely, "but I was afraid that if I didn't take the initiative, I'd leave without having a chance to really see the gardens."