elle’s mother, as expected, took Henry firmly under her wing. She couldn’t quite manage to call her by her nickname, however, preferring to use the more formal “Henrietta.” “Not,” Caroline had said, “that I disapprove of your moniker. It is simply that my husband’s name is also Henry, and it’s rather disconcerting for me to use it on a girl of your tender years.”

Henry had only smiled and told her that that was just fine. It had been so long since she had had a maternal figure that she would have been inclined to let Caroline call her Esmerelda if she so desired.

Henry hadn’t wanted to enjoy her time in London, but Belle and her mother were making it exceedingly difficult for her to keep her spirits low. They conquered her fears with kindness, slayed her uncertainties with jokes and good humor. Henry missed her life at Stannage Park, but she had to allow that Dunford’s friends had brought a certain measure of happiness into her life that she hadn’t even realized was missing.

She had forgotten what it meant to have a family.

Caroline had grand plans for her new charge, and within the first week, Henry had visited the modiste, the milliner, the modiste, the bookshop, the modiste, the glove shop, and, of course, the modiste. More than once, Caroline had shaken her head and declared that she had never seen a young lady who needed quite so many articles of clothing at one time.

Which was why, Henry thought in agony, they were at the dressmaker’s shop for the seventh time in one week. The first couple of visits had been exciting, but now it was exhausting.

“Most of us,” Caroline said with a pat on the hand, “try to do this a bit at a time. With you, however, that wasn’t an option.”

Henry smiled tightly in response as Madame Lambert jabbed another pin in her side.

“Oh, Henry,” Belle laughed. “Do try not to look quite so pained.”

Henry shook her head. “I think she drew blood that time.”

The dressmaker choked back her indignation, but Caroline, the much-esteemed Countess of Worth, hid her smile behind her hand. When Henry went into the back room to change, she turned to her daughter and whispered, “I think I like this girl.”

“I know I do,” Belle replied firmly. “And I think Dunford does too.”

“You don’t mean to say he is interested in her?”

Belle nodded. “I don’t know if he knows it yet. If he does, he certainly does not want to admit it.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “It’s high time that young man settled down.”

“I have a thousand pounds riding on it.”

“You don’t!”

“I do. I wagered him several months ago that he would be married within a year.”

“Well, we’ll certainly have to make sure that our dear Henrietta blossoms into a veritable goddess.” Caroline’s blue eyes sparkled with matchmaking mischief. “I shouldn’t want my only daughter to lose such a large sum of money.”

The next day Henry was eating breakfast with the earl and countess when Belle stopped by with her husband, Lord Blackwood. John was a handsome man with warm brown eyes and thick, dark hair. He also, Henry noticed with surprise, limped.

“So this is the lady who has had my wife so busy for the past week,” he said graciously, leaning over and kissing her hand.

Henry blushed, unused to the courtly gesture. “I promise you may have her back soon. I’m almost done with my pre-society studies.”

John stifled a laugh. “Oh, and what have you learned?”

“Very important things, my lord. For example, if I am going up a flight of stairs, I must follow a gentleman, but if I am going down, he must follow me.”

“I assure you,” he said with an amazingly straight face, “that that is a useful thing to know.”

“Of course. And the horror of it is, I have been doing it wrong all these years and did not even know it.”

John managed to hold on to his deadpan expression for one more exchange. “And were you incorrect going up or going down?”

“Oh, going up, to be sure. You see,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I am vastly impatient, and I cannot imagine having to wait for a gentleman if I want to go upstairs.”

John burst out laughing. “Belle, Caroline, I think you have a success on your hands.”

Henry turned and nudged Belle with her elbow. “Did you notice I managed to use ‘vastly’? It wasn’t easy, you know. And how was that for flirting? So sorry I had to use your husband, but he was the only gentleman about.”

There was a loud “ahem” from the head of the table.

Henry smiled innocently as her eyes flew to the face of Belle’s father. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Lord Worth, but I cannot flirt with you. Lady Worth would kill me.”

“And I wouldn’t?” Belle asked, laughter dancing in her bright blue eyes.

“Oh, no, you’re much too kind.”

“And I’m not?” Caroline teased.

Henry opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again to say, “I believe I have gotten myself into a bit of a bind.”

“And what bind is that?”

Henry’s heart lurched at the achingly familiar voice. Dunford was standing in the doorway, looking breathtakingly handsome in buff-colored breeches and a bottle-green coat. “I thought I’d drop in and check on Henry’s progress,” he said.

“She’s doing superbly,” Caroline replied. “And we are delighted to have her. I haven’t laughed so much in years.”

Henry smiled cheekily. “I’m very entertaining.”

John and the earl both coughed, presumably to cover their smiles.

Dunford, however, didn’t bother to hide his. “I was also wondering if you’d like to go for a walk this afternoon.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I would like that above all else.” Then she spoiled the effect by nudging Belle again and saying, “Did you hear that? I managed to use ‘above all else.’ It’s a silly phrase, to be sure, but I think I am finally beginning to sound like a debutante.”

No one was able to hide his smile that time.

“Excellent,” Dunford replied. “I shall come for you at two.” He nodded to the earl and countess, saying that he would see himself out.

“I’ll take my leave now as well,” John said. “I’ve much to do this morning.” He dropped a kiss on the top of his wife’s head and followed Dunford through the door.

Belle and Henry excused themselves and retired to the drawing room, where they planned to go over titles and rules of precedence until the midday meal. Henry was not in the least excited about the prospect.

“How did you like my husband?” Belle asked once they were seated.

“He was lovely, Belle. He is obviously a man of great kindness and integrity. I could see it in his eyes. You are very lucky to have him.”

Belle smiled and even blushed just a little. “I know.”

Henry tossed her a sideways smile. “And he is quite handsome, too. The limp is very dashing.”

“I have always thought so. He used to be frightfully self-conscious about it, but now I think he barely notices it.”

“Was he injured in the war?”

Belle nodded, her expression growing dark. “Yes. He’s very lucky to have the leg at all.”

They were both silent for a moment, and then Henry suddenly said, “He reminds me a bit of Dunford.”

“Dunford?” Belle blinked in surprise. “Really? Do you think so?”

“Absolutely. Same brown hair and eyes, although perhaps Dunford’s hair is a bit thicker. And I think his shoulders might be a trifle broader.”

“Really?” Belle leaned forward interestedly.

“Mmmm. And he’s very handsome, of course.”

“Dunford? Or my husband?”

“Both,” Henry said quickly. “But...” Her words trailed off, as she realized it would be unforgivably rude to point out that Dunford was obviously the more handsome of the two.

Belle, of course, knew her husband was obviously better looking, but nothing in the world would have pleased her more than to hear that Henry disagreed. She smiled and made a soft murmuring sound, subtly encouraging Henry to continue speaking.

“And,” Henry added, obliging Belle fully, “it was just lovely of your husband to kiss you good-bye. Even I know enough of the ton to know that is not considered de rigueur.”

Belle didn’t even have to look at Henry to know she was wishing that Dunford would do the same to her.

When the clock struck two, Henry had to be dissuaded from waiting on the doorstep. Belle managed to get her to sit in the drawing room and tried to explain that most ladies chose to remain upstairs and keep their callers waiting for several minutes. Henry didn’t listen.

Part of the reason she was so excited to see Dunford was that she had discovered a newfound appreciation for herself and her qualities as a woman. Belle and her family seemed to like her tremendously, and it was her understanding that they were very well respected among the ton. And although Caroline’s constant fussing with her hair and wardrobe could be most vexing, it was beginning to give Henry hope that she just might be pretty after all. Not ravishingly beautiful like Belle, whose wavy, blond hair and bright blue eyes had inspired sonnets among the more poetically minded of the ton, but she was certainly not wholly unattractive.

As Henry’s self-esteem inched upward, she began to think that she just might have a tiny chance of inducing Dunford to love her. He already liked her; surely that was half the battle. Maybe she could compete with the sophisticated ladies of the ton, after all. She wasn’t really certain how to make this miracle occur, but she did know that she was going to have to spend as much time as possible in his presence if she was going to make any progress.

And that was why, when she looked up at the clock and noticed it was two o’clock, her heart began to race.

Dunford arrived at two minutes past the hour and discovered Belle and Henry studying a copy of Debrett’s Peerage. Or rather, Belle was trying very hard to force Henry to study it, and Henry was trying very hard to toss the book out the window.

“I see you’re enjoying your time together,” Dunford drawled.

“Oh, very much,” Belle returned, snatching the book before Henry managed to drop it into an antique spittoon.

“Very much, my lord,” Henry echoed. “I’m supposed to call you ‘my lord,’ I’ve discovered.”

“I would that you meant it,” he muttered under his breath. Such obedience from Henry would be a boon, indeed.

“Not Baron or Baron Stannage,” she continued. “Apparently no one uses the word ‘baron’ except when talking about someone. Bloody useless title, I think, if no one knows you’ve got it.”

“Er, Henry, you might want to curb your use of the word ‘bloody,’ ” Belle felt obliged to point out. “And everyone does know he’s got the title. That’s what this is all about.” She motioned to the book in her hand.

“I know.” Henry made a face. “And do not worry, I won’t say ‘bloody’ in public unless someone has severed one of my arteries and I’m in danger of bleeding to death.”

“Er, and that’s another thing,” Belle said.

“I know, I know, no mention of anatomy in public, either. I’m afraid I was raised on a farm, and we are not quite so squeamish.”

Dunford took her arm and said to Belle, “I’d better get her out of the house before she burns it down from boredom.”

Belle bid them both a good time, and they were on their way, a housemaid trailing a respectable few feet behind them.

“This is most odd,” Henry whispered after they had reached the edge of Grosvenor Square. “I feel as if I am being stalked.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He paused. “Are you truly enjoying yourself here in London?”

Henry thought about that before answering. “You were right about making friends. I adore Belle. And Lord and Lady Worth have been most kind. I suppose I didn’t know what I was missing by remaining so isolated at Stannage Park.”

“Good,” he replied, patting her gloved hand.

“But I do miss Cornwall,” she said wistfully. “Especially the clean air and the green fields.”

“And Rufus,” he teased.

“And Rufus.”

“But are you glad you came?” Dunford stopped walking. He didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath, so important was it to him that she reply in the affirmative.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I think so.”

He smiled gently. “You only think so?”

“I’m afraid, Dunford.”

“Of what, Hen?” He stared at her, his eyes intent.

“What if I make a cake of myself? What if I do something beyond the pale without even knowing it?”

“You won’t, Hen.”

“Oh, but I could. It would be so easy.”

“Hen, Caroline and Belle say you’re making great strides. They know a great deal about society. If they say you are ready to make your debut, I assure you, you’re ready.”

“They have taught me so much, Dunford. I know that. But I also know they can’t possibly teach me everything in a fortnight. And if I do something wrong...” Her words trailed off, and her silvery eyes glowed large and luminous with apprehension.

He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms, to rest his chin upon her head and assure her that everything would be all right. But they were standing in a public garden, and so he had to content himself with saying, “What will happen if you do something wrong, minx? Will the world fall apart? Will the heavens crash down upon us? I think not.”

“Please don’t make light of this,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m not. Hen, I only meant—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice wobbly. “It’s just that—well, you know already I’m not very good at being a girl, and if I do something wrong, it reflects badly upon you. And Lady Worth and Belle and their whole family, and they have been so kind to me and—”

“Henry, stop,” he implored. “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

She looked up at him. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally nodded. “If you say so. I trust you.”

Dunford felt something inside of him lurch and then fall into place as he stared into the silvery depths of her eyes. His body was swaying closer to hers, and he wanted nothing more than to rub his thumb against her pink lips, warming them for a kiss.

“Dunford?”

The soft sound of her voice brought him out of his reverie. He quickly resumed walking, his pace suddenly so fast that Henry practically had to run to keep up with him. Damn it, he swore at himself. He had not brought her to London just so he might continue seducing her. “How is your new wardrobe coming along?” he asked abruptly. “I see you’re wearing one of the dresses we purchased in Cornwall.”

It took Henry a moment to reply, so confused was she by the sudden change of pace. “Very well,” she replied. “Madame Lambert is finishing up the last-minute alterations. Most should be ready by early next week.”

“And your studies?”

“I’m not certain that one could call them studies. It certainly doesn’t seem a terribly noble endeavor to memorize ranks and orders of preference. I suppose someone ought to know that younger sons of marquesses rank below eldest sons of earls, but I do not see why it has to be me.” She forced her lips into a smile, hoping to restore his good humor. “Although you might be interested in the fact that barons rank above the speaker of the House of Commons, but not, I’m afraid, above sons of marquesses, elder or younger.”

“As I ranked below them when I was a mere mister,” he replied, thankful that conversation had been steered back to the mundane, “I won’t torture myself over the fact that they are still above me, so to speak.”

“But you must adopt an air of lordly imperiousness the next time you encounter the speaker of the House of Commons,” Henry instructed with a smile.

“Silly chit.”

“I know. I probably should learn to behave with more gravity.”

“Not with me, I hope. I like you the way you are.”

That familiar giddy feeling returned. “I still do have a number of things to learn, however,” she said, glancing at him sideways.

“Such as?”

“Belle tells me I need to learn how to flirt.”

“Belle would,” he muttered.

“I practiced a bit on her husband this morning.”

“You did what?”

“Well, I didn’t mean it,” Henry said quickly. “And I certainly wouldn’t have done so if it weren’t completely obvious that he is madly in love with Belle. He seemed a safe choice to try out my skills.”

“Stay away from married men,” he said sternly.

“You aren’t married,” she pointed out.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Henry glanced idly in the window of a shop they were passing before replying. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it means I should practice on you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, come now, Dunford. Be a good sport. Will you teach me how to flirt?”

“I’d say you’re doing just fine on your own,” he muttered.

“Do you think so?” she asked, her face a perfect picture of delight.

His body reacted instantly to the radiant joy in her expression, and he told himself not to look at her again. Ever.

But she was tugging on his arm, not to be denied, and pleading, “Won’t you please teach me? Please?”

“Oh, all right,” he sighed, knowing that this was a most inadvisable idea.

“Oh, splendid. Where shall we start?”

“It’s a lovely day today,” he said, not quite able to put any feeling into the words.

“Yes, it is, but I thought we were going to concentrate on flirting.”

He looked at her and then wished he hadn’t. His eyes always managed to somehow slide down to her lips. “Most flirtations,” he said, taking a ragged breath, “begin with the inanities of polite conversation.”

“Oh, I see. All right. Begin again, then, if you will.”

He took a deep breath and said flatly, “It’s a lovely day today.”

“It certainly is. It makes one long to spend time out of doors, don’t you think?”

“We are out of doors, Henry.”

“I’m pretending we’re at a ball,” she explained. “And may we turn into the park? Perhaps we can find a bench upon which to sit.”

Dunford steered them silently into Green Park.

“May we begin again?” she asked.

“We haven’t progressed much thus far.”

“Nonsense. I’m certain we’ll succeed once we get started. Now, I just said that the day makes one long to spend time out of doors.”

“Certainly,” he replied laconically.

“Dunford, you are not making this easy.” She spotted a bench and sat down, making space for him next to her. Her maid stood quietly under a tree ten or so yards away.

“I don’t want to make it easy. I don’t want to do this at all.”

“Surely you see the necessity of my knowing how to converse with gentlemen. Now please help me and try to get into the spirit of the endeavor.”

Dunford’s jaw clenched. She was going to have to learn she couldn’t push him too far. He curved his lips into a wicked half-smile. If it was flirting she wanted, it was flirting she was going to get. “All right. Let me begin anew.”

Henry smiled happily.

“You’re beautiful when you smile.”

Her heart dropped down to her feet. She couldn’t say a word.

“Flirting takes two, you know,” he drawled. “You’ll be thought a lackwit if you don’t have anything to say.”

“I-I thank you, my lord,” she said, working up her boldness. “That is indeed a compliment, coming from you.”

“And just what does that mean, pray tell?”

“It is certainly no secret that you are a connoisseur of women, my lord.”

“You have been gossiping about me.”

“Not at all. I cannot help it if your behavior makes you a frequent topic of conversation.”

“Excuse me?” he said icily.

“The women throw themselves at you, I hear. Why have you not married one of them, I wonder?”

“That is not for you to wonder, sweetheart.”

“Ah, but I cannot help where my mind wanders.”

“Never let a man call you sweetheart,” he ordered.

It took her a second to realize that he had broken character. “But it was only you, Dunford,” she said in an excruciatingly placating tone.

Somehow that managed to make him feel as if he were a feeble, gout-ridden old man. “I am just as dangerous as the rest of them,” he said in a hard voice.

“To me? But you’re my guardian.”

If they hadn’t been in the middle of a public park, he would have grabbed her and shown her just how dangerous he could be. It was amazing how she could provoke him. One moment he was trying to be the wise but stern guardian, and the next he was desperately trying to restrain himself from taking her for a tumble.

“All right,” Henry said, warily assessing his thunderous expression. “How about this. La, sir, but you should not call me sweetheart.”

“It’s a start, but if you happen to be holding a fan, I strongly urge you to poke it into the bounder’s eye as well.”

Henry was a bit heartened by the note of possessiveness she sensed in his voice. “But as it happens, I am not currently in possession of a fan, and what would I do if a gentleman does not heed my verbal warning?”

“Then you should run in the opposite direction. Quickly.”

“But just for the sake of argument, let’s say I am cornered. Or perhaps I am in the middle of a crowded ballroom and do not want to make a scene. If you were flirting with a young lady who had just told you not to call her sweetheart, what would you do?”

“I would accede to her wishes and bid her good night,” he said starchily.

“You would not!” Henry accused with a playful smile. “You’re a terrible rake, Dunford. Belle told me.”

“Belle talks too much,” he muttered.

“She was merely warning me of the gentlemen with whom I must be on my guard. And,” she said, shrugging delicately, “when she named the rakes, you were near the top of the list.”

“How kind of her.”

“Of course, you are my guardian,” she said thoughtfully. “And so merely being seen with you will not ruin my reputation. That is certainly fortunate, as I do so enjoy your company.”

“I would say, Henry,” Dunford said with deliberate slowness and evenness, “that you do not need very much more practice on how to flirt.”

She smiled brightly. “I will take that as a compliment, coming from you. I understand you are a master of the art of seduction.”

Her words made him extremely irritated, indeed.

“However, I think you’re being overly optimistic. I probably do need just a bit more practice. To give me the self-confidence to face the ton at my first ball,” she explained, her face looking marvelously earnest. “Perhaps I might be able to enlist Belle’s brother. He is finishing up at Oxford soon, I understand, and will be returning to London for the season.”

It was Dunford’s opinion that Belle’s brother Ned was still a trifle green, but he was nonetheless well on his way to becoming a rake. And then there was the annoying point that he was extremely good-looking, having been blessed with the same stunning blue eyes and marvelous bone structure as Belle. Not to mention the even more vexing fact that he would be residing under the same roof as Henry.

“No, Henry,” Dunford said in a very low, very dangerous voice. “I do not think you should practice your feminine wiles on Ned.”

“Do you think not?” she asked blithely. “He seems a perfect choice.”

“It would be extremely dangerous to your health.”

“Whatever does that mean? I cannot imagine that Belle’s brother would ever hurt me.”

“But I would.”

“You would?” she breathed. “What would you do?”

“If you think,” he bit out, “that I’m going to answer that question, you are feeble-minded, if not insane.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Oh, my.”

“Oh, my, indeed. I want you to listen to me,” he said, his eyes boring dangerously into hers. “You are to stay away from Ned Blydon, you are to stay away from married men, and you are to stay away from all of the rakes on Belle’s list.”

“Including you?”

“Of course not including me,” he snapped. “I’m your goddamned guardian.” He clamped his mouth shut, barely able to believe he’d lost his temper to the extent that he’d sworn at her.

Henry, however, seemed not to notice his foul language. “All of the rakes?”

“All of them.”

“Then whom may I set my cap for?”

Dunford opened his mouth, fully intending to rattle off a list of names. To his surprise, he couldn’t come up with even one.

“There must be someone,” she prodded.

He glared at her, thinking that he’d like to take his hand and wipe that impossibly cheerful expression off her face. Or better yet, he’d do it with his mouth.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to spend the entire season with just you for a companion.” It was difficult, but Henry just managed to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

Dunford abruptly stood, practically hauling her up along with him. “We’ll find someone. In the meantime let’s go home.”

They hadn’t taken three steps when they heard someone call out Dunford’s name. Henry looked up and saw an extremely elegant, extremely well-dressed, and extremely beautiful woman heading their way. “A friend of yours?” she asked.

“Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott.”

“Another of your conquests?”

“No,” he said testily.

Henry quickly assessed the predatory gleam in the woman’s eye. “She’d like to be.”

He turned on her. “What did you just say?”

She was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Lady Wolcott. Dunford greeted her and then introduced the two ladies.

“A ward?” Lady Wolcott trilled. “How charming.”

Charming? Henry wanted to echo. But she kept her mouth shut.

“How utterly domestic of you,” Lady Wolcott continued, touching Dunford’s arm—rather suggestively, in Henry’s opinion.

“I don’t know if I would call it ‘domestic,’ ” Dunford replied politely, “but it certainly has been a new experience.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Lady Wolcott wet her lips. “It’s not at all in your usual style. You are usually given to more athletic—and masculine—pursuits.”

Henry was so livid she thought it a wonder she didn’t start hissing. Her hand quite involuntarily clenched, forming claws she really wanted to rake across the elder lady’s face.

“Rest assured, Lady Wolcott,” Dunford replied, “I am finding my role as guardian to be most informative and character-building.”

“Character-building? Pish. How dull. You’ll soon grow bored. Come and call when you do. I’m sure we can find ways to entertain ourselves.”

Dunford sighed. Normally he’d have been tempted to take Sarah-Jane up on her rather blatant offer, but with Henry in tow he suddenly felt the need to take the moral high road. “Tell me,” he said sharply. “How is Lord Wolcott faring these days?”

“Doddering away in Dorset. As usual. He’s really of no concern here in London.” She gave Dunford one last seductive smile, nodded sleekly at Henry, and was on her way.

“Is that how I am meant to behave?” Henry asked disbelievingly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then—”

“Just be yourself,” he said curtly. “Just be yourself, and stay away from—”

“I know. I know. Stay away from married men, Ned Blydon, and rakes of every variety. Just be so good as to let me know if you think of someone else I must add to the list.”

Dunford scowled.

Henry smiled all the way home.