And concentrated on dragging in her next breath.

"Oh, dear," she finally managed, and even that wavered. Blinking frantically, she stared at the posy. "Oh, heavens. What on earth am I to do?"

"Why you'll carry it, of course. Very nice, I must say."

"No, Nellie, you don't understand." Alathea put her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, how like him to make it complicated!"

"Him, who? Master Rupert?"

"Yes. Gabriel. He's called that now."

Nellie sniffed. "Well, I can't see why you can't carry his flowers, even if he is using some other name."

Alathea swallowed a hysterical laugh. "It's not his name, Nellie, it's me. I can't carry a girl's come-out posy."

He'd known, of course. She'd never had her come-out, never received a come-out posy, never had the opportunity to carry one.

"Damn the man!" She felt like weeping with happiness. "What am I to do?" She'd never felt so flustered in her life. She wanted to carry the flowers, to pick them up, rush out of the door like an eager young girl, and hurry to the ball just so she could show him-her lover-that she understood. But… "The scandalmongers are watching us as it is." If she carried the posy, they'd be the on-dit of the night. Possibly the whole Season.

"Maybe I can wear them as a corsage?" She tried it, angling the flowers this way, then that, at her right, her left, in the center of her neckline.

"No." She sighed. "It won't do." One flower wasn't enough against the gold embroidery, but three, the number needed to balance the spray, was too much, too large. Far too visible. Aside from anything else, the spray would be in her constant vision-facing him over it, spending the evening with him by her side with his flowers so blatantly between them would be impossible. She'd never maintain her composure.

"I can't." Dismayed, she gazed at the beautiful blooms-at the favor her warrior had sent her as a token of his heart. She desperately wanted to carry them, but didn't dare. "Fetch a vase, Nellie."

With a disapproving humph, Nellie left.

Alathea cradled the posy in her hands, and let all that it meant wash through her. Then she heard Mary's and Alice's voices; blinking, sniffing, she gently laid the posy back in the box and set it to one side of the table. In a daze, she finished her toilette, clasping her mother's pearls about her throat, placing the matching drops in her ears, lavishly dabbing on the countess's perfume.

"Allie? Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'm coming!" Her wits whirling, she rose. Her gaze on the posy, cradled in its delicate box, she breathed in, exhaled, then picked up her reticule and turned.

"Hurry! The coach is here!"

"I'm coming." Reaching the threshold, Alathea lingered. Her hand on the door, she looked back at the delicate box he'd used to send her his heart.

Her gaze lifted to the mirror beyond, to her own reflection.

A moment later, she blinked. Leaving the door, she re-crossed the room.

Halting before the dressing table, she picked up his note. She reread his message, then looked again at her reflection.

Her lips twisted, lifted. Tucking the note into her jewelry box, she raised her hands to her cap.

It took a moment to ease out the pins. Alathea ignored the chorus of calls wafting along the corridor. This time, her family could wait.

Laying aside the cap, she quickly unwound the posy. She wrapped the ribbon around the tight bun on the top of her head and tied it in a simple knot, the trailing ends interleaving with the surrounding curls. Fingers shaking, she separated three luscious blooms from the arrangement. By the time she'd threaded the stems into her thick hair and secured them with pins, she was smiling, her heart soaring, her face mirroring her joy.

Nellie rushed in, vase in hand, and abruptly halted. "Oh, my! Well, now! That's better!"

"Put the others in water. I have to rush." Whirling, Alathea squeezed Nellie's arm, then, breathless, ran to the door.

Brows high, Nellie watched her go, then, a broad smile wreathing her face, she bustled to the dressing table. She placed the two remaining blooms in the vase, then carefully carried it to the table beside the bed. Nellie wiped her hands and returned to the dressing table to tidy Alathea's combs and brush. She was about to turn away when the folded note poking out from Alathea's jewelry box caught her eye.

Nellie cast a glance at the door, then lifted the lid of the jewelry box and took out the note. She unfolded it, read it, then refolded it and replaced it. And chuckled delightedly. "You'll do, my lad. You'll do."

Gabriel saw his flowers in Alathea's hair the instant she appeared in the archway giving onto Lady Marlborough's ballroom. The sight transfixed him; joy, relief, and something far more primal locked his lungs. Pausing with her family at the top of the stairs, Alathea looked down, over the ballroom, but didn't immediately see him. His gaze didn't leave her as she slowly descended the broad sweep, one hand lightly skimming the balustrade as she searched the throng.

Then she saw him.

He drew breath and started toward her. His eyes didn't leave her face as he closed the distance between them; he had no recollection of those he passed as he cleaved through the crowd. He reached the newel post before her.

She descended the last steps, her gaze locked with his, pausing on the very last, higher than he, then she stepped down to the floor and angled her head so he could study the blooms.

"I couldn't carry them-you do understand?"

Triumph washed through him, a rolling wave that nearly brought him to his knees. "Your alternative is inspired." He took her hand; uncaring of any who might be watching, he carried it to his lips. His eyes held hers. "My lady."

Some magical force held them trapped, hazel drowning in hazel, so close they could sense each breath the other took, each beat of the other's heart. Neither could manage a smile.

"And about time, too, but do get a move on! There's a seat on a chaise over there I want to snare."

Alathea jumped and whirled. Gabriel looked up, into Lady Osbaldestone's black eyes. She grinned evilly and poked his arm. "Don't let me stop you in your rush into parson's mousetrap, but do get out of my way!"

They did; Lady Osbaldestone pushed past them and stumped into the throng. Gabriel turned as Alathea took his arm.

"We'd better do as she says."

Placing his hand over hers, he guided her into the already dense crowd.

"We were late," Alathea murmured. "Only by a few minutes, but it put us so far back in the queue of carriages…"

"I was beginning to wonder if something had happened…"

Something had. Alathea met his eyes; they were gently smiling, magnanimous in victory. She looked away. "You know, I would never have expected flowers from you."

She said nothing more; the muscles under her hand slowly tensed.

"There was a note with the flowers…"

Alathea turned smiling eyes his way. "I know. I read it."

He drew her to a halt, his eyes searching hers. "Just as long as you understood it."

His tone held aggression, uncertainty, and a strong undercurrent of vulnerability. Alathea let her expression soften, let her guard down enough for him to see her heart in her eyes. "Of course I understood it."

He looked deep into her eyes, then he released the breath he'd held. "Just don't forget it. Even if you never hear or see the words again, they'll always be true. Don't forget."

"I won't. Not ever."

The noisy crowd around them had faded. For a moment, they remained in that world where only they existed, then Alathea smiled softly, squeezed his arm, and drew them both back to the present. She glanced about. "You could have chosen an evening more conducive to your declaration."

Gabriel sighed and they started to stroll. "Our whole courtship-no, our joint lives thus far have been dictated by circumstance. I'm looking forward to shaking free of the shackles and taking charge of our reins."

"Indeed?" Regally, Alathea exchanged nods with Lady Cowper. "Might I suggest that you resign yourself to sharing the reins?"

Gabriel shot her a glance; his brow quirked. "I'll think about it."

They strolled on through the crush, encountering no member of either of their families. "This is ridiculous," Alathea stated as the press of bodies forced them to a halt. "Thank heaven there's are only a few weeks to go."

"Speaking of time passing, has Struthers contacted you?" Surrendering to the inevitable, Gabriel drew her out of the parading crowd to a spot where they could stand and converse in reasonable comfort.

"No. Why? I thought you were going to see him."

"I did. I told him my address and to get in touch with me if he needed any help, but he hasn't."

"Well." Alathea shrugged and looked about. "Presumably that means all's well and we'll see him tomorrow in court." She smiled and held out her hand. "Good evening, Lord Falworth."

Falworth took her hand and bowed. Gabriel inwardly cursed. Within minutes, her entire court had gathered. They must have located her by tracking him, tall enough to be followed through the jostling throng. Lord Montgomery prosed on; Falworth and others attempted to capture the conversation and steer it in their own directions. A social smile on her lips, Alathea pretended to follow, nodding and murmuring at appropriate moments.

The first waltz and she would be his again. Unfortunately, Lady Marlborough was of an older generation; she'd scheduled a great many cotillions and even a quadrille amid a host of country dances. He'd be waiting a while for his waltz.