“But Toby will be here soon, will he not?” Clarissa ventured.

Horatio nodded. His eldest son, presently at Oxford, was expected to join the family any day. “True. But even so, you must remember that Toby is barely twenty. It would hardly be fair to foist the responsibility for all of you onto his shoulders. Indeed, although your mother and I have no doubt of his willingness to act as your escort, he is not yet experienced enough to adequately guard against the dangers which might face you here in the capital. This is not Leicestershire, as you know.”

“What, then?” Sophie asked, knowing he was right. “Where will we find a suitable escort?”

Horatio smiled his most inscrutable smile. “Your aunt has promised to see to it.”

TUESDAY AFTERNOON saw the Webb ladies taking the air in the Park. The weather continued unseasonably mild; everyone was out to take advantage. Bright walking gowns splashed colour across the lawns. One or two ladies had even felt the need for parasols.

From her perch in the barouche beside her aunt, with Clarissa gaily smiling from the opposite seat, Sophie nodded and waved greetings, determined thus to keep her mind on noting any newcomers, rather than allowing her gaze to wander farther afield, searching for one she would do well to forget.

After completing a leisurely circuit, her aunt directed her coachman to pull up alongside Lady Abercrombie’s carriage.

Her ladyship, as sociable as her husband was not, was all smiles. “Lucilla, dear! How positively delightful! Do you intend to remain all Season?”

While Lucilla exchanged gossip with her ladyship, both Sophie and Clarissa did what young ladies were supposed to do on such occasions: they responded to any query directed their way but otherwise allowed their gaze to idly roam the passing scenery, which was to say, the passing crowd.

Engaged in this necessary occupation, Sophie greeted any acquaintances who passed, exchanging commonplaces all but automatically, while her wandering gaze became gradually more intent. When it finally occurred to her what she was doing, she frowned and shook herself.

With a determined air, she looked about for distraction. And discovered Mr. Marston, waiting, sober and serious as a judge, to greet her.

“Oh, good day, sir.” Annoyed at her awkwardness-she was surely more experienced than this!-Sophie summoned a smile. “I did not know you had intended to come to London.”

Phillip Marston took her hand and bowed. He shook hands with both Clarissa and Lucilla, who, on hearing his voice, had turned, brows flying upward. After exchanging a few words, Lucilla turned back to Lady Abercrombie, leaving Mr. Marston to gravely tell Sophie, “Indeed, Miss Winterton, it was not my intention to join the frivolity.” A disdainful glance at two young gentlemen who came up to speak to Clarissa declared his opinion very clearly. “Nevertheless, I felt that, in this case, my presence was necessary.”

Sophie was mystified. “Indeed, sir?”

“I flatter myself that I am fully cognizant of the inherent sensibility of your mind, Miss Winterton. I greatly fear that you will find little to entertain a lady of your refined nature here in the capital.” Phillip Marston cast a glance at Lucilla, once more deeply engrossed with Lady Abercrombie, and lowered his voice. “As your aunt was determined to bring you to town, I felt that the least I could do, as I assured my dear mama, was to journey here to do what I may to support you through this time.”

Utterly dumbfounded, Sophie silently searched for the prescribed reply to that revelation, and discovered that there wasn’t one. In fact, as the full implication of Mr. Marston’s declaration impinged on her mind, she decided she did not approve-of him or it. Drawing herself up, she fixed him with a distinctly frosty gaze. “I must inform you, sir, that I find the entertainments to which my aunt escorts me quite fascinating.”

A condescending smile lifted Mr. Marston’s thin lips. “Your loyalty to your aunt does you credit, my dear, but I feel I must point out that the Season has not yet begun. The entertainments thus far are doubtless mild enough. You will understand my concern once the more… rackety gentlemen are included. Then, I venture to say, you will be only too glad of my escort.”

Sophie struggled for words. She dragged in a deep breath, glanced up-and felt a surge of inexpressible relief. Her heart leapt. She promptly tried to dampen her reaction, only to see the corners of Jack Lester’s lips lift.

With determined calm, Sophie coolly extended one hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lester.”

“Miss Winterton.” With suave grace, Jack bowed. “I had hoped to discover you here.” He ignored Mr. Marston beside him.

Mr. Marston, Sophie noticed, was not ignoring him. He drew himself up, his nostrils pinched as if Mr. Lester’s appearance was offensive. Just what he could find amiss with that supremely elegant figure Sophie was at a loss to guess. “Ah… I believe you have met Mr. Marston before, Mr. Lester? He’s down from Leicestershire. I was just commenting on what a surprise it was to see him here.” Sophie watched as the two men exchanged glances, Marston visibly bristling.

“Marston.” With a brief nod, Jack dismissed the fellow from his thoughts and turned to Clarissa as her two admirers withdrew. “Miss Webb.” Jack shook her hand, then indicated the figure beside him. “I believe Mr. Ascombe is known to you both?”

Sophie blinked, then smiled delightedly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Clarissa’s jaw drop. Ned had been to a tailor-a good one. His coat of Bath superfine now hugged his shoulders, doing far more justice to his lean frame than his previous suiting ever had. And he had had a haircut-his crisp brown locks were now in fashionable disarray. His breeches, his boots-all were new and all contributed to a remarkable transmogrification. Taking it all in with one comprehensive glance, Sophie retained sufficient wit to respond to the subtle prompt in Jack’s steady blue gaze. She held out her hand and smiled warmly. “Indeed, yes. It’s good to see you, Ned.”

Some of Ned’s stiffness faded. He slanted Sophie a grin. “You look ravishing, Sophie. Determined to cut a swath through the ton?“

Sophie was impressed by the clear confidence in Ned’s tone. A quick glance to her right showed that she wasn’t alone. Clarissa was staring at Ned, confusion clearly writ in her large blue eyes. “I’m certainly determined to enjoy myself this Season,” Sophie responded. “Will you be in town for the duration?”

“I expect so,” Ned replied, his gaze fixed on Sophie. “I hadn’t realized before just how many distractions there were to be found in the capital.”

“Hello, Ned.”

At Clarissa’s somewhat tentative greeting, Ned turned to her with an easy but in no way especial smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Webb. You’re looking quite splendid. Have you been enjoying your stay thus far?”

Sophie bit her lip. The quick glance she sent Jack was a mistake. The devilish light in his blue eyes very nearly overset her control.

Clarissa, clearly bemused by the change in her childhood companion, mumbled a disjointed response, lost as Mr. Marston cut in.

“Afternoon, Ascombe.” Phillip Marston eyed Ned’s new finery with a critical eye. “Your father, I suspect, would be quite surprised to see you thus decked out.”

Used to Phillip Marston’s sober declarations, Ned merely grinned and shook his hand.

Sophie smothered a giggle. Jack caught her eye; she looked away, her jaws aching.

Then Lucilla joined the fray. She greeted Jack as an old acquaintance, complimented Ned on his good sense, and, under cover of a rapid-fire monologue on the varied entertainments to be found in the capital, managed to divulge that her charges would dearly like to ride in the Park in the mornings but lacked suitable escorts. “For even when Toby arrives,” she declared, “I would not be happy to allow a group of such innocents to brave the Park without someone more experienced to handle the reins, as it were.”

Stunned, Sophie directed a look of pointed reproof at her aunt. Lucilla pretended not to notice. Predictably, a deep voice answered.

“Mr. Ascombe and I would be only too happy to be of assistance, Mrs. Webb. Would you be content to release your charges to our care?”

Impotent, Sophie watched as Lucilla bent a look of shining approval on Jack. “Indeed, Mr. Lester. I cannot think of anyone I’d trust more.”

Jack very nearly winced but inclined his head in acceptance of her commission. In this instance, her stipulation that he was being entrusted with her charges and therefore, as a gentleman, expected to respect her confidence, was no handicap.

And there was hay yet to be made from the situation. “Perhaps Miss Winterton and Miss Webb would care to stroll the lawns while we discuss the most appropriate time to meet?”

Lucilla’s eyes widened slightly.

Sophie was not at all certain of the wisdom of strolling beside Jack Lester, even in the middle of the Park. Maintaining an appropriate distance was imperative; closing the physical distance between them was unlikely to help her cause.

“What a perfectly splendid idea!” Clarissa turned to Lucilla, her eyes bright and eager.

With a sigh and a lifted brow, Lucilla relaxed against the squabs. “By all means-but only for fifteen minutes. I’ll await you here.”

To Sophie’s immense relief, Phillip Marston said nothing, merely frowning into the distance in an abstracted fashion. Then, rather abruptly, he bowed and took his leave of them.

Jack barely noticed. He handed Sophie down from the carriage, his satisfaction implicit in his smile. She was a picture in muslin the colour of old gold, a fairy princess with a touch of rose in her cheeks.

With her hand snugly tucked in his arm, they strolled across the broad expanse of clipped grass. Beside them, Clarissa, on Ned’s arm, kept shooting shy glances up at him. Very correctly, the party remained together, clearly within sight of Lucilla in the barouche.