unford sent a messenger to London the next day to place an announcement in the Times. Henry was inordinately pleased by his haste to announce the engagement; it seemed yet another sign he loved her with the same devotion she felt for him.

Belle and John arrived the next morning in time to join the two couples for a late breakfast. Belle was very pleased although not terribly surprised at Dunford and Henry’s announcement. She had known, after all, that he was planning to propose, and anyone who had ever seen Henry so much as look at him would have known she would accept.

After lunch the three ladies were sitting in the appropriately named sitting room, discussing Henry’s new status as a betrothed woman.

“I hope he did something terribly romantic,” Belle said, taking a sip of tea.

Henry delighted them both by blushing. “It was, ah, sufficiently romantic.”

“What I don’t understand,” Emma said, “is when he had the opportunity to propose. He hadn’t done so before dinner last night, unless you were keeping a secret, which I don’t think you were because, frankly, I do not see how you would be able to keep so large a secret.”

Henry coughed.

“And then the two of us retired to the parlor, and then we all went to bed.” Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t we?”

Henry coughed again. “Do you know, I think I really could use a bit more tea.”

Emma smiled wickedly and poured. “Have a sip, Hen.”

Henry’s eyes slid warily from cousin to cousin as she raised the cup to her lips.

“Has your throat recovered?” Belle inquired sweetly.

“A bit more tea, I think,” Henry hedged, holding the cup out to her hostess. “With a bit more milk.” Emma picked up the milk and splashed some into Henry’s teacup. Henry took yet another sip and then, glancing up at the two pairs of eyes regarding her with devilish purpose, drained the cup. “I don’t suppose you have any brandy.”

“Out with it, Henry,” Emma ordered.

“I... ah... it’s a bit personal, don’t you think? Really, I don’t see either one of you telling me how your husbands proposed.”

To Henry’s surprise, Emma flushed. “Very well,” the duchess said. “I won’t ask you any more questions. But I have to tell you...” Her words trailed off, and she looked as if she were trying to figure out how to say something extremely indelicate.

“What?” Henry asked, unapologetically enjoying Emma’s discomfort. The duchess had, after all, been enjoying Henry’s discomfort not two minutes earlier.

“I realize,” Emma said slowly, “that part of the reason Dunford asked us to host you in a house party was because he realized we would not be the most stern of chaperones.”

Belle let out a little snort of laughter.

Emma glared at her cousin before turning back to Henry. “I am sure he supposed he would find a way to get you alone, and I certainly understand that he would want some time alone with you. After all, he does love you.” She paused and looked up. “He does love you, doesn’t he? I mean, of course he does, but he has told you? Men can be such beasts about that.”

Henry’s cheeks pinkened a touch, and she nodded.

“Right,” Emma said crisply. She cleared her throat and then continued, “As I was saying, I do understand your desire, er, perhaps that is the wrong word—”

“ ‘Desire’ is probably quite appropriate,” Belle said, her lips twitching with barely restrained laughter.

Emma shot another dagger-like glare at her cousin. Belle smirked back at her, and the two ladies continued this rather unladylike behavior until Henry cleared her throat. Emma immediately straightened, looked at Henry, and then, unable to resist, shot Belle one last glare. Belle responded in kind with her cheekiest of smirks.

“You were saying?” Henry said.

“Right,” Emma said, not quite as crisply as before. “All I was going to say was that it is certainly all right to want to be alone with him, and”—she blushed, the effect almost comical against her bright red hair—“it is probably all right to actually be alone with him from time to time, but I have to ask you to please contrive not to be very alone with him, if you know what I mean.”

Henry hadn’t known what she meant until the night before, but now she did, and she blushed hard, much harder than Emma.

Emma’s expression revealed she had a feeling her message was coming too late. “These things just seem to have a way of getting back to Aunt Caroline,” she mumbled.

Henry started to feel embarrassed, but then she remembered that Belle and Emma were her friends. And although she hadn’t much experience with female friends, she knew that if they teased, it was only because they cared. She looked up jauntily, first into Emma’s violet eyes and then into Belle’s blue ones, and said, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The rest of the time in the country passed very quickly for Henry. She and her new friends made outings into the nearby village, played cards until the wee hours of the morning, and laughed and teased until their sides ached. But the most special times were when Dunford managed to sneak her away, and they were able to enjoy a few stolen moments together.

These clandestine meetings always seemed to begin with a passionate kiss, although Dunford insisted that was never his intention. “I see you and get carried away,” he would say, always with an unrepentant shrug.

Henry tried to scold him, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it.

All too soon, however, she found herself back in London, deluged by curious callers who insisted they just wanted to offer their congratulations on her upcoming marriage. Henry was a bit bewildered by all the attention as she hadn’t even met the majority of the well-wishers.

The Earl of Billington stopped by, good-naturedly complaining that he hadn’t even been given a chance to court her. “Dunford stole quite a march on us all,” he said with a lazy smile.

Henry smiled and shrugged humbly, not at all certain how to respond.

“I suppose I shall have to nurse my broken heart tonight and brave another ball.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Your heart isn’t the least bit broken.”

He grinned, delighted with her forthrightness. “It would have been, had I been given the chance to get to know you better.”

“How lucky for me you weren’t,” drawled a deep voice.

Henry turned to see Dunford filling up the doorway to Caroline’s favorite salon. He looked big and tall and so very masculine in his blue coat and tan breeches. He gazed at her and quirked a very small, one-sided smile that was meant for her alone. Her eyes immediately turned to dreamy pools of silvery satin, and she let out a tiny sigh.

“I can see I didn’t have a prayer,” Billington murmured.

“Not a one,” Dunford said affably, crossing the room and sitting down next to Henry. Now that she was safely engaged to him, he finally remembered that he had always rather liked Billington.

“What brings you by?” Henry asked him.

“Just wanted to see you. Has your day been pleasant thus far?”

“Too many callers, I’m afraid.” Henry suddenly realized her tremendous faux pas and turned to Billington, stammering, “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, please do not think me boorish, my lord. It’s just that nearly a hundred people I do not know have come to see me today. I was really quite relieved when you came to call. I actually know you, and more importantly, I rather like you.”

“A lovely apology, my dear.” Dunford patted her hand as if to say that she needn’t go on any further. At the rate she was going, she’d be professing her love for the earl any minute.

Billington caught Dunford’s vaguely irritated expression and stood, a knowing smile on his face. “I have always prided myself on recognizing when I am de trop.”

Dunford stood as well and escorted Billington to the door, where he gave the man a hearty slap on the back. “I have always admired that quality in you myself, Billington.”

Billington’s lips twitched, and he executed a smart bow in Henry’s direction. “Miss Barrett.”

A few seconds later she and Dunford were alone.

“I thought he would never leave,” he said with a dramatic sigh, shutting the door behind him.

“You fiend. You all but chased him out. And don’t think the door is going to remain closed for more than two minutes before Lady Worth gets wind of it and sends over a fleet of servants to chaperone us.”

He sighed again. “A man can hope.”

Henry’s lips curved into a feminine smile. “So can a woman.”

“Really?” He leaned toward her until she could feel his breath on her skin. “What were you hoping for?”

“Oh, this and that,” she said breathily.

“This?” He kissed one corner of her mouth. “Or that?” He kissed the other.

“I-I believe I said this and that.”

“So you did.” He repeated both kisses. Henry sighed with contentment and allowed herself to sink into his side. His arms stole around her in a platonic embrace, and he nuzzled the back of her neck with his face. He allowed himself this pleasure for a few moments and then lifted his face to ask, “How much longer do you think we have before Caroline releases the hounds?”

“About thirty seconds, I should think.”

He reluctantly loosened his hold, moved to the chair opposite her, and pulled out his pocket watch. “What are you doing?” Henry asked, shaking with silent laughter.

“Testing you, my dear.” There was silence for about twenty seconds, then he clucked and shook his head. “You’re off, minx. It appears I could have had a few more seconds of holding you.”

Henry rolled her eyes and shook her head. The man was incorrigible. Then the door was abruptly opened. Neither of them could see who had done it. A liveried arm merely pushed it open, then disappeared. Both of them burst out laughing. “I have been vindicated!” Henry exclaimed triumphantly. “Tell me, how close was I?”

He nodded in reluctant admiration. “You were off by only six seconds, minx.”

She gave him a self-satisfied smile and sat back.

He stood. “It appears our time alone has come to an end. What do we have now—just two more weeks?”

She nodded. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into a four-week engagement instead of five?”

“Beyond words, my love.” He leaned down and kissed her hand. “I trust I shall see you this evening at Lady Hampton’s ball.”

“If you are there, then so shall I be.”

“I wish you were always this biddable.”

“I can be quite biddable when it suits my purposes.”

“Ah, yes. Then I suppose I shall have to ask you to contrive to find purposes that match my own.”

“I believe we are in agreement just now, my lord.”

He laughed. “I’m going to have to leave. You have by far surpassed me in the art of flirtation. I’m in serious danger of losing my heart.”

“I should hope you have already lost it,” she called out, watching him walk to the open door.

He turned around, his eyes burning with emotion. “I haven’t lost it. But I did give it to a woman for safekeeping.”

“And is she keeping it safe?” she asked, unable to keep a quaver out of her voice.

“Yes, she is, and I would guard hers with my life.”

“I hope it does not come to that.”

“As do I. But that does not mean I would not give it.” He turned but paused before leaving the room. “Sometimes, Hen,” he said, not turning back around to face her, “I think I would give my life just for one of your smiles.”

A few hours later Henry was finishing her preparations for that evening’s ball. As always, she felt a little shiver of excitement at the thought of seeing Dunford that evening. It was strange how, now that they had professed their love for each other, their time together had grown even more thrilling. Every look, every touch was so infused with meaning; he had only to glance at her a certain way, Henry thought wryly, and she forgot how to breathe.

There was a chill in the night air, so she donned a gown of midnight-blue velvet. Dunford came by to escort her, as did Belle and John, who arrived in their own carriage. “Perfect,” Caroline declared, clapping her hands together. “With two carriages already here, there is no reason to have mine brought round. I’ll, ah, I’ll just ride with Dunford and Henrietta.”

Dunford’s face fell visibly.

“And Henry—that is to say my Henry,” Caroline explained, “shall ride with Belle and John.”

Belle muttered something about not needing a chaperone when she was married, but Henry was the only one close enough to hear.

The ride to Hampton House was fairly uneventful, as Henry had expected it would be. There certainly wasn’t much opportunity for an “event” to arise with Caroline in the carriage. Once at the ball Henry was immediately swept away by the crush of the crowd, most of whom already had decided she must be quite the most interesting young woman of the year if she had managed to land Dunford with such apparent ease.

Dunford watched her parry comments with nosy dowagers and equally nosy young debutantes, decided she was handling herself just fine, and went off to get some fresh air. Much as he wanted to spend every waking minute with her, it wouldn’t do to spend too much time by her side. They were engaged, that was true, so people would expect him to pay her a bit more attention than usual, but there was also some less-than-pleasant gossip concerning how exactly they had met. They had, after all, become engaged only two weeks after her arrival in London. Dunford didn’t think any of the gossip had reached Henry’s ears yet, but he didn’t want to do anything that might fan the flames. He decided to give her a bit of time to socialize with Caroline’s friends, all highly influential and with unimpeachable reputations, then he’d return to claim her for a waltz. No one could fault him one dance.

He wandered over to the French doors leading out onto the garden. Lady Hampton had had the area lit with Chinese lanterns, and it was nearly as bright outside as it was inside. He leaned lazily against a pillar and was contemplating his tremendous good fortune when he heard someone calling his name. He turned his head.

The Earl of Billington was walking toward him, a smile on his face that was mocking and self-deprecating at the same time. “I just wanted to offer you my congratulations once again,” he said. “I don’t know quite how you managed it, but you do deserve the best of wishes.”

Dunford nodded graciously. “You’ll find someone else.”

“Not this year. Crop’s pitifully thin. Your Henry was the only one with half a brain.”

Dunford arched his brow. “Half a brain?”

“Imagine my delight when I discovered that the only debutante with half a brain actually had one in its entirety.” Billington shook his head. “I’ll have to wait until next year.”

“Why the rush?”

“Believe me, Dunford, you don’t want to know.”

Dunford found that comment quite cryptic but pressed no further, respecting the other man’s privacy.

“Although,” Billington continued, “since it appears I will not be getting myself leg-shackled this season, I most probably will be looking for a companion.”

“A companion, you say?”

“Mmm-hmm. Charise returned to Paris a few weeks ago. Said it was too rainy here.”

Dunford pushed away from the pillar. “I just might be able to help you out.”

Billington motioned with his hand to the darker recesses of the lawn. “I had a feeling you might.”

Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott saw the two men walking toward the back of the garden, and her interest was immediately piqued. They had been conversing already for several minutes; what else could they need to talk about that would require even greater privacy? Mentally blessing the fact that she had chosen to wear a dark green dress that evening, she slipped into the shadows, moving quietly toward them until she found a spot where she could hide behind a large shrub. If she leaned forward, she could catch most of the gentlemen’s conversation.

“... going to have to get rid of Christine of course.” That sounded like Dunford.

“I certainly didn’t think you’d want to keep supporting a mistress with such a lovely wife.”

“I should have cut her loose weeks ago. Haven’t been to see her since I returned to London. One must be delicate about these things, though. I really don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Of course not.”

“The lease isn’t up on her house for a few months. That ought to give her time enough to find another protector.”

“I was thinking about offering myself for that role.”

That earned a chuckle from Dunford.

“I’ve had my eye on her for a few months now. Just been waiting until you tired of her.”

“I was planning to meet with her Friday evening at midnight, to tell her I’m getting married, although she’s bound to have heard already. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Billington smiled as he took a sip of the drink he’d been holding in his hand. “You do that.”

“I must confess, I’m glad you’ve taken an interest in her. She’s a nice woman. I shouldn’t like to think of her set adrift.”

“Good.” Billington slapped Dunford on the back. “I’d best be getting back to the party. One never knows when a debutante with a brain might show up. I’ll talk to you next week, after you’ve had a chance to deal with Christine.”

Dunford nodded and watched Billington stride back across the terrace. After a few moments he did the same.

Sarah-Jane’s lips curved into a smile as she pondered what she had just overheard and what use she could make of the tidbit. She wasn’t exactly certain what it was about Miss Henrietta Barrett that so rankled her, but rankle she did. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Dunford was quite obviously besotted with the girl when she, Sarah-Jane, had been angling after him for nearly a year. And little Miss Henry obviously felt the same way. Every time she looked at the chit, she was looking at Dunford as if he were a god.

Sarah-Jane supposed that was what irritated her most about the girl—she was so damned innocent and unaffected, rather like Sarah-Jane had been at that age, before her parents married her off to Lord Wolcott, a notorious lecher three times her age. Sarah-Jane had consoled herself with a string of affairs, mostly with married men. Henry was going to be in for a rude awakening when she realized that married men did not remain faithful to their wives for very long.

Her head snapped up. Why not teach Henry that little lesson early? It wasn’t as if she were doing anything evil, Sarah-Jane rationalized. Henry was going to have to learn the sad truth about ton marriages sooner or later. And perhaps sooner was better. Approached from that angle, it was obvious that she was actually doing Henry a favor. Better that the chit enter her marriage with open eyes than become horribly disillusioned a few months later.

Sarah-Jane was smiling as she made her way back to the party.

Henry tried hard not to crane her neck as she scanned the crowds for Dunford. Where on earth had the man gone? She had spent the last half hour answering questions about their upcoming nuptials and thought it was high time he did his fair share.

“May I congratulate you on your upcoming marriage?”

Henry sighed and turned to the latest well-wisher, then opened her eyes a little wider when she saw it was Sarah-Jane Wolcott. “Lady Wolcott,” she said, unable to keep a touch of frost from her voice. The lady had, after all, practically thrown herself on Dunford the last time they had met. “What a surprise.”

“Why a surprise?” Sarah-Jane replied with a tilt of her head. “Surely you do not think I would begrudge another lady the happiness of wedded bliss.”

Henry wanted to tell her she had no idea what she would or would not do, but mindful of the curious eyes and ears around her, she merely smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“I assure you, I have nothing but the fondest wishes for you and your fiancé.”

“I believe you,” Henry said through clenched teeth, wishing that the other lady would just disappear.

“Good, but I would like to give you a bit of advice. From one woman to another, of course.”

Henry did not have a good feeling about this. “That is very kind of you, Lady Wolcott, but Lady Worth, Lady Blackwood, and the Duchess of Ashbourne have all been most kind in giving me all sorts of necessary advice as pertains to the married state.”

“That is very good of them, I am sure. I would expect no less from such gracious ladies.”

Henry swallowed down the bad taste in her mouth and refrained from saying that the three ladies in question did not view Lady Wolcott with equal admiration.

“The advice I have for you,” Sarah-Jane continued with an affected twist of her wrist, “is something no one else could tell you.”

Pasting a bright, unnatural smile on her face, Henry leaned forward and said, “I am breathless with anticipation.”

“Of course you are,” Sarah-Jane murmured. “But here, let us step back from the crowds for a moment. What I have to say is for your ears alone.”

Eager now to do anything to get rid of the woman, Henry obligingly took a few paces back.

“Please believe that I would do nothing to hurt you,” Sarah-Jane said in a low voice, “and I tell you this only because I do not believe that any woman should enter into marriage without her eyes widely opened. I was not given that privilege.”

“What is it, Lady Wolcott?” Henry ground out.

“My dear, I just thought you should know that Dunford has a mistress.”