Most gentlemen within hailing distance acknowledged him and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Most ladies either openly ignored him or nodded to him with distant hauteur. But many of them, old and young alike, stole covert glances at him. He was indeed a gentleman whom it was impossible not to notice. He exuded vitality, laughter, and a careless disregard of sober propriety. And she was the only woman with whom he had danced last evening. She was the one he had invited to drive with him this afternoon. She, Lauren Edgeworth, the very personification of sober propriety.

The thought ought not to be flattering at all.

Viscount Ravensberg steered his curricle clear of the crowds before they had made the complete circuit. Soon, she thought, disappointed despite herself, they would be back in Grosvenor Square and she must make clear to him that she would not welcome any further attempt to make her the object of his gallantry. But there was a question she could not resist asking, unmannerly as it might be.

“Why did you invite me to dance last evening?” she asked him. “And why only me? You left immediately afterward. Why did you send me roses on the strength of that single encounter? Why did you ask me to drive with you this afternoon?”

Oh, dear. More than one question, all of them unpardonably rude. And she had plenty of time in which to realize the fact and feel increasingly uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that she did not immediately notice that he had turned his curricle, not onto the main thoroughfare leading out onto the streets of London but onto another path that led deeper into a less traveled, more wooded area of the park. By the time she did notice, it was too late to protest. This would certainly be remarked upon, she thought—first she had waltzed with a notorious rakehell, then she had driven with him, and now she was allowing him to drive off alone with her.

“Perhaps you have not looked at yourself in a glass lately, Miss Edgeworth,” he said at last.

“But Lady Mannering’s ballroom was filled with ladies lovelier than I,” she said. “And most of them considerably younger.”

“I cannot answer for your youth,” he said, “but I can for your beauty. If you did not realize that you were by far the loveliest lady at the ball, then indeed you have not looked at your reflection lately.”

“How absurd.” She had never had a great deal of patience with flattery. Or with ladies who fished for compliments. Was that what she had just done? If so, she had been served well. The loveliest lady at the ball, indeed! The path dipped into a hollow bordered on either side by giant oak trees, whose branches met in an arch over-head.

“It is your eyes that make you uniquely lovely, of course.” He slanted her a look. “I have never seen any others of quite their color or beauty.”

This was all highly improper. But she had only herself to blame.

“You knew who I was, I suppose,” she said. “Someone had pointed me out to you. You knew what happened to me last year. Was it curiosity, then?”

He angled a penetrating look at her. “To dance with a bride who had been abandoned at the altar?” he said. “I hope the park at Newbury is a large one. My guess is that Kilbourne must be constantly whipping himself all about its perimeter at his foolishness in having married someone else, doubtless on a momentary impulse, and so having lost the chance of having you.”

She despised herself for taking comfort from his words. For longer than a year she had felt so . . . unattractive. “Well, you are wrong, sir,” she said. “His marriage to the countess was and is a love match.” They were driving in a cool, verdant shade. Lauren lowered her parasol to her lap though she did not close it.

“And yours to him would not have been?” Again that swift, penetrating look.

Lauren raised her chin and stared straight ahead. How had she trapped herself into this? “That is an impertinent question, my lord.”

He chuckled softly. “My humblest apologies, ma’am,” he said. “But Kilbourne’s loss is my gain. I asked you to dance because even across Lady Mannering’s ballroom I was struck by your loveliness and felt compelled to discover who you were. I sent the roses because after waltzing with you I could do nothing else but return home and lie awake half the night thinking of you. I called upon you this afternoon and invited you to drive with me here because I knew that if I did not see you again you would haunt my waking thoughts and my sleeping dreams for the rest of the summer.”

Lauren’s eyes widened with shock, but by the time he had finished speaking she was glaring at him in speechless anger. How foolishly gullible did he think she was?

“My lord,” she said with all the cool dignity with which she had armed herself for most of her life, “no gentleman would so mock a lady. But then I have been warned that you are no gentleman, and with my own eyes I have beheld that it is true. Now my ears tell the same story. I would be obliged if you would return me to Grosvenor Square without further delay.”

He had the gall to look across at her and chuckle softly. “You did ask, you know,” he said, rearranging the ribbons so that they were in his right hand. With his left he possessed himself of one of her hands and raised it to his lips. “It would have been ungentlemanly of me to lie to a lady, would it not?”

“I suppose,” she said with icy dignity, “you expected me to be easy prey to this blatant gallantry, Lord Ravensberg, since I am an abandoned bride. You thought to have some sport with me. You have failed. I came to town to offer my companionship to the Duchess of Portfrey, who is awaiting a confinement. I did not come to parade myself in the marriage mart. I am not in search of a husband and never will be. And even if I were, I would not fall an easy prey to such as you.”

“To such as I.” They were headed back in the direction of the park gates, she realized suddenly. “Have they told you very dreadful things about me, then, Miss Edgeworth? But of course they have. And with your own eyes you have seen me brawling half naked in the park and kissing a milkmaid. I have confessed to breaking my brother’s nose and suffering the indignity of banishment from my boyhood home. I perceive that my chances of pursuing an acquaintance with you are remote indeed.”

“Absolutely nonexistent.” They drove clear of the shade of the trees and the sun beamed down on their heads as if in mockery.

“You have broken my heart.” He turned his face to her again and gazed soulfully into her eyes—except that even now she could see laughter lurking in the depths of his.

“I doubt you have one to break,” she retorted.

Neither of them spoke again after that. When the curricle came to a halt before the duke’s door several minutes later, Lord Ravensberg’s tiger came darting across the square, where he had been left earlier, and ran to the horses’ heads. Lauren had no choice but to retain her high seat until his lordship had descended and come around the vehicle to help her alight. But even this he did not allow her to do with dignity. He set his hands on either side of her waist and swung her down to the pavement. He did not, as she expected for one horrified moment, allow her body to slide down his, but even so she was a mere few inches away from him when her feet found the ground. She looked at him, her face tight with indignation again.

“Thank you for the outing, my lord,” she said with icy politeness. “Good-bye.”

His smile lit his whole face with merriment and devilry. “Thank you.” He released his hold on her waist and made her an elegant bow. “Au revoir, Miss Edgeworth.”

The front door was already open, Powers having noted her return home. Lauren walked up the steps and into the hall with unhurried dignity. She did not look back as the door closed behind her.

Chapter 4

Sutton?” Lord Farrington said. “Yes, I know him well enough, Ravensberg. We were up at Oxford at the same time. Cut up a few larks together. That was before he inherited the title and became head of the family and pillar of the community and intolerably stuffy.”

“You are going to invite him to join a party of friends in your box at the theater next week,” Kit told him. “With his betrothed, of course.”

“Am I?” Lord Farrington replied. They were on horseback, cantering along Rotten Row rather earlier in the morning than usual. It was still almost deserted. “Am I permitted to ask why?”

“Because Lady Wilma Fawcitt is Miss Edgeworth’s cousin,” Kit reminded him. “Or stepcousin, to be precise. You are also going to invite her.”

“Miss Edgeworth? Ah.” His friend’s voice was full of sudden comprehension. “And I suppose I am going to invite you too, Ravensberg. Or have you already invited yourself? And why, pray, should I help you win your wager when I stand to lose a hundred guineas?”

“Because you will be unable to resist your curiosity to watch the progress of my courtship,” Kit said with a laugh. “And my chances are looking woefully slim, you will be delighted to know. I heaped gallantries upon her the day after the Mannering ball, when I drove her in the park, and instead of blushing and simpering, she did that icicle thing I was warned about and accused me of mocking her. I felt distinctly as if I were perched on top of the North Pole with no way down and no way home.”

“You failed to charm her?” Lord Farrington threw back his head and laughed. “Are you losing your touch, Ravensberg?”

“In the week and a half since then,” Kit continued, “I have looked in at a whole dreary array of balls and soirees and even a concert or two and have caught nary a glimpse of her. It is time to take a more active hand in my own fate. We have to entice her to the theater.”