Harriet bit her lip. "Perhaps we should not discuss this further, sir."

Bryce smiled with understanding. "God knows I have wished often enough that I could forget what happened that Season. Sometimes I think back to the events, wondering if there was something I could have done to avert the tragedy."

"You must not blame yourself, Mr. Morland," Harriet said quickly.

"But I was Gideon's best friend," Bryce said. "I knew him better than anyone else. I realized he was reckless and determined to have his own way. And I knew Deirdre was as innocent as she was beautiful. Gideon saw her and wanted her at once."

Harriet frowned. "They were both from Upper Biddleton. They must have known each other before Deirdre Rushton had her Season."

"Although they lived in the same village, they had not really spent much time in each other's company," Bryce explained. "I had not seen much of her, either. Deirdre was, after all, still in the schoolroom until her father managed a Season for her. And Gideon was older, of course. He was off to school and then to London while Deirdre was growing into womanhood."

"I have heard she was very lovely," Harriet said quietly.

"She was. And I will tell you quite truthfully that she was not in love with Gideon. How could she have fallen in love with him?"

"Very easily, I should imagine," Harriet retorted.

"Nonsense. She was a beautiful creature who was naturally attracted to beauty in others. She once confided to me that she found it almost impossible to look at Gideon's scarred face. It was all she could do to dance with him when he demanded it."

"What fustian," Harriet snapped. "There is nothing offensive about St. Justin's face. And he dances wonderfully."

Bryce smiled. "You are very generous, my dear. But the truth is, most people find it quite difficult to look at him. He has had the scar for over ten years, you know."

"No, I did not know."

"He got it during a rapier duel."

Harriet's eyes widened. "I had not realized."

"I am one of the few people who know the full story. I told you I was his best friend at the time."

Harriet tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. "If Deirdre Rushton was so put off by the sight of Gideon—I mean, St. Justin—why did she agree to become engaged to him?"

'"For the usual reasons," Bryce said calmly. "Her father insisted. Deirdre was an obedient daughter and the Reverend Rushton was very anxious for her to marry into such a well-connected family. Had a fancy to see his daughter married to the son of an earl. When Gideon offered marriage, Rushton virtually forced her to accept. It was no secret at the time."

Harriet remembered what Mrs. Stone had said. Apparently everyone had come to the same conclusion about the reasons behind the engagement. "How awful for Gideon," Harriet whispered.

Bryce's eyes warmed with old sorrow. "Perhaps that was why he did what he did."

"What are you talking about?"

"Miss Pomeroy, it is difficult for me to say this, but perhaps you should be on your guard. You have no doubt heard the accusation that St. Justin ravished Deirdre Rush-ton while they were engaged?"

"And abandoned her. Yes, I have heard it and I do not believe it."

Bryce's expression was solemn. "It grieves me to point this out to you, but you must be realistic. It is a certainty that Deirdre was taken by force. I can tell you that she would never have given herself to Gideon willingly until it was absolutely necessary. That would have been on her wedding night and not before."

"I refuse to believe that St. Justin forced himself on his fiancée." Harriet was appalled. Once again she came to a halt on the dance floor. She pulled herself free from Bryce's grasp. "That is nothing short of a lie and you, sir, should not repeat it to a soul. I will not listen to any more of this."

She whirled around and stalked off the floor without waiting for Bryce to escort her. A murmur of intrigued and amused voices followed her. She ignored them as she made her way back to the group of fossil enthusiasts.

Her new friends greeted her warmly and welcomed her quickly back into the conversation. What a relief, Harriet thought, to find herself among people who had something more important to discuss than old gossip.

Oliver, Lord Applegate, an earnest young baron who was three years older than Harriet, smiled at her with undisguised admiration. He had only recently come into his title and at times his efforts to live up to his new role in life caused him to be a bit pompous. But other than that, he was really quite pleasant and Harriet liked him.

"Ah, there you are, Miss Pomeroy." Applegate moved at once to her side. He held out a glass of lemonade he had procured for her. "You are just in time to help me crush Lady Youngstreet's arguments. She is trying to convince us all that the deposits of polished blocks of stone and masses of rubble one finds in the foothills of the alpine regions are evidence of the Great Flood."

"Quite right," Lady Youngstreet declared forcefully. A large, imposing woman of a certain age, she was a very active collector. She had actually spent some time hunting fossils on the Continent after the war with Napoleon had ended. She never hesitated to remind the other members of that singular fact. "What else, pray tell, except water, great quantities of water, could have moved huge stones and tumbled them about in such an extraordinary fashion?"

Harriet frowned with deep consideration. "I once discussed this point with my father. He mentioned several other possible causes of such gigantic disruption in the earth. There are volcanoes and earthquakes, for example. Even…" she hesitated. "Even ice might have done it."

The others stared at her in astonishment.

"Ice?" Lady Youngstreet asked, looking suddenly intrigued. "You mean huge slabs of ice such as glaciers?"

"Well, if the glaciers in the mountains were much larger at one time than they are now," Harriet began carefully, "they might have covered that area. Then they melted and left behind the stones and rubble they had picked up along the way."

"Utterly ridiculous," Lord Fry boomed, coming up to join the group. "What nonsense to imagine a sheet of ice covering so much terrain on the Continent."

Lady Youngstreet smiled at Fry fondly. It was no secret they were paramours. "Quite right, my dear. These young people are always seeking new explanations for what can be answered perfectly well with the old tried and true answers. Did you bring me another glass of champagne?"

"Certainly, my dear. How could I forget?" Fry handed her the glass with a gallant bow.

"Actually," Harriet said, still thinking carefully, "the problem with the theory of the Great Deluge is that it is difficult to see how the floodwaters could have covered all of the earth at once. Where would they go when they retreated?"

"An excellent point," Applegate said with the usual enthusiasm he displayed for Harriet's ideas. "Volcanoes and earthquakes and the like make much more sense. They account for finding marine fossils at the tops of mountains and," he added with a sly smile, "they account for igneous rocks."

Harriet nodded seriously. "Such uplifting forces obviously counter the effects of erosion and explain why the earth is not one flat, featureless landscape. However, this business of finding fossils of animals that are very ancient is not easily explained. Why are there no living examples of these animals, I ask you?"

"Because they were all destroyed in the Great Flood," Lady Youngstreet declared. "Perfectly obvious. Drowned. Every last one of 'em, poor beggars." She swallowed the entire contents of her champagne glass.

"Well," said Harriet, "I'm still not certain—" She broke off abruptly as she realized that no one in the group was paying any attention to her.

Belatedly she realized that a murmur was going through the crowd. All heads were turning toward the elegant staircase at the far end of the ballroom. Harriet followed the glances.

Gideon was poised at the top of the steps, surveying the throng with a disdainful glance. He was dressed in stark black. His white cravat and shirt only served to emphasize the darkness of his evening clothes.

As Harriet watched, his eyes met hers. She could not believe he had actually managed to pick her out of the crowd that jammed the ballroom.

He started down the red-carpeted steps. The coldly arrogant set of his shoulders implied he was either unaware of the expectant curiosity in the faces below him or else that he simply did not care about it.

He was here. Harriet warned herself not to get too excited about that simple fact. Gideon had been bound to show up sooner or later. It did not mean he was panting with eagerness to see her, only that he felt it was his duty to put in an appearance.

The whispered comments followed Gideon through the room like a wave racing toward some distant shore. As he moved forward the crowd parted as if it were a sea. He strode through the glittering throng without looking either to the right or left. He greeted no one. He simply kept moving until he reached Harriet.

"Good evening, my dear," he said quietly amid a hushed silence. He bowed over her hand. "I trust you saved me a dance?"

"Of course, my lord." Harriet smiled widely in welcome. She put her fingers on his arm. "But first, do you know my friends?"

Gideon glanced around at the ring effaces behind her. "Some of them."

"Allow me to introduce the rest." Harriet ran through the introductions quickly.

"So it is true, then," Lady Youngstreet demanded with a disapproving expression. "The two of you are engaged?"