“I am quite out of charity with you, ” she said as she took the seat. “You might have agreed to stay a little longer.”

“You break my heart,” Peter said, resuming his own place. “But I am not at all out of charity with you. I have something to beg of you, in fact, since you are dazzling my eyes with your beauty and would have robbed me of appetite if I had not already eaten. I humbly beg you, Miss Raycroft, to reserve the opening set at the coming assembly for me.”

The mock pout disappeared, to be replaced with a look of youthful eagerness. “You are staying after all?” she asked him. “For the assembly?”

“How can I resist?” He set his right hand over his heart and regarded her soulfully. “You ought not to have gone out into the sunshine and fresh air this morning and improved upon your already perfect complexion. You ought to have appeared here pale and wan and dressed in your oldest rags. Ah, but even then I fear I would have found the sight of you irresistible.”

She laughed.

“Oh, you are staying,” she said. “And I am dressed in my oldest rags, silly. You are staying. Oh, I knew you were just teasing when you insisted that you must leave tomorrow. I shall dance with you-of course I shall. You would not know how very few young gentlemen ever attend the assemblies, Lord Whitleaf. And even many of the ones who do attend play cards all evening or merely stand about watching as if it would kill them to dance.”

“It probably would, Ros,” her brother said. “It is a strenuous thing, dancing.”

“The Calverts will positively expire of envy when they know that I have already been engaged for the opening set, and by no less a person than Viscount Whitleaf, ” Miss Raycroft continued, clapping her hands together. “I shall tell them this morning. I promised to go over there so that we can all go out walking together. You really ought to ask Gertrude for the opening set, John. You know Mama and Mrs. Calvert will expect it even if you are betrothed to Alice Hickmore. And Gertrude will be relieved. If she has promised to dance it with you, she will not be able to dance it with Mr. Finn, who was born with two left feet, both of them overlarge, the poor gentleman.”

Peter grinned.

“I’ll come with you and ask her now,” John said cheerfully. “Finn is a farmer and a dashed good one too, Ros. And he could shoot a wren between the eyes at a hundred paces. One cannot expect him to be an accomplished dancer too.”

“Shoot a wren?” Miss Raycroft paused with her hand stretched toward the toast rack and looked stricken. “What a horrid idea. I certainly hope he does not ask me to dance.”

“It was merely a figurative way of speaking,” her brother told her. “What would be the use of shooting wrens? Nobody would eat them anyway.”

“Nobody would shoot a wren for any reason at all,” Peter assured the girl as he got to his feet. “They are gentle, beautiful birds. I shall accompany you on the walk too, if I may, Miss Raycroft. The weather and the countryside alone would tempt me, but even if it were raining and cold and blowing a gale, the company would be quite irresistible.”

She acknowledged the blatant flattery with a bright smile and eyes that still twinkled. She was seventeen years old, not yet officially “out,” and she knew as well as anyone that he was not seriously smitten with her charms-or with anyone else’s of her acquaintance for that matter. He would not have dared flatter and flirt with her if there were any likelihood that she might misunderstand-her brother was his closest friend and he was staying in their parents’ home.

“I shall go up and change my clothes and wash my hands and face,” she said, getting to her feet again, the toast forgotten. “I shall be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it ten, Ros,” her brother said with a sigh. “You look perfectly decent to me as you are.”

Peter, meeting her pained glance, winked at her.

“Go and improve further upon perfection if it is possible,” he said. “We will wait for you even if you take twenty minutes.”

It seemed, he thought ruefully, that his decision had been made. He was not going home after all. Not yet, anyway.


* * *

An hour later Viscount Whitleaf was reflecting upon the singular handicap of possessing only two arms when three or four would have been far more convenient. He had Miss Raycroft on his right arm and the eldest Miss Calvert on his left, while Miss Jane Calvert and Miss Mary Calvert flittered and twittered about them like dainty, colorful birds, chattering and laughing, and John Raycroft walked nearby, swinging his arms and lifting his face to the sun and the sky when he was not beaming genially about him at the late summer countryside and remarking that the harvest was sure to be an excellent one this year.

Peter certainly hoped it would be good on his own farms at Sidley Park too. Having once thought about it, he ached to be there for the harvest, to be able to tramp the fields in old breeches and top boots, to be with his laborers, to shed his coat and roll up his shirtsleeves and work alongside them, to feel the sweat of honest labor along his back. To do all those things, in fact, that he had not been allowed to do as a boy and had done only one glorious year when he was twenty and looking forward with such eagerness to reaching his majority.

Dash it all, why had he let his mother know that he intended coming this year? Why had he not simply turned up there unannounced?

He sighed, but almost instantly recovered his spirits when he brought his attention back to the present.

Miss Calvert was a handsome young lady even if she did not have the enticing dimples of her younger sister, Miss Jane Calvert, or the very blue eyes of her youngest sister, Miss Mary Calvert. All three sisters were, in fact, renowned in the neighborhood for their beauty. They would turn heads in a place like London too-and would probably make decent matches even without dowries.

“You simply must consider staying for two more weeks, Lord Whitleaf,” Miss Mary Calvert urged, turning to look at him and taking little backward running steps in order to keep ahead of him and the two ladies on his arms. “There is to be a dance at the assembly rooms-did you know?-and we so much want you to be there.”

The blue ribbons under her chin and those beneath her bosom-they exactly matched the color of her eyes-fluttered to her movements, and her fair curls bobbed beneath the brim of her bonnet. Trim ankles were visible beneath the swaying hem of her cotton dress. She looked very pretty indeed.

“Must I?” he said with an exaggerated sigh. He smiled at each of the ladies in turn and thought how very pleasant a morning this was and how fortunate a fellow he was to have such company with which to share it-even if he would have preferred to be getting ready to go home tomorrow. “The temptation is well nigh irresistible, I must say.”

But Miss Raycroft was not to be deprived of making the grand announcement herself.

“Viscount Whitleaf decided this very morning that he will stay,” she cried. “And he has reserved the first set of dances with me.”

“No coercion was necessary, you see,” Peter assured them all as the Misses Jane and Mary Calvert clapped their hands and the eldest Miss Calvert’s hand tightened about his arm. All three of them beamed happily at him. “How could I possibly not stay when there are four such lovely ladies with whom it will be my pleasure to dance- if,that is, they can be persuaded to dance with me?”

But though he was flirting-and they all knew it very well-he spoke the truth too. He had seen a great deal of Raycroft’s neighbors during the past two weeks, and he genuinely liked them all, especially the young ladies.

A chorus of amused laughter greeted his final words.

“Perhaps Miss Calvert will honor me by reserving the second set for me,” he said, “and Miss Jane Calvert the third and Miss Mary Calvert the fourth. If, that is, I am not too late and every set has not already been spoken for by all the gentlemen hereabouts. It would not surprise me in the least if that were the case.”

Another burst of merriment greeted his words and then an assurance from all three sisters that the relevant sets would indeed be reserved and not forgotten.

“As if that would be possible,” Miss Mary Calvert added ingenuously.

“You had better dance the opening set with me, Gertrude,” John Raycroft said cheerfully and without any tactful gallantry whatsoever. “I understand that the alternative is Finn, and Ros assures me that that would be a fate akin to death.”

The ladies all laughed again.

“That is very obliging of you, John,” Miss Calvert said. “Thank you. Mr. Finn is kind and earnest and I like him exceedingly well. But I must confess that he is no dancer.”

It had been obvious to Peter that she did indeed like Finn and that Finn had every intention of working up his nerve within the next year or ten to make her an offer.

“I have it on excellent authority,” he said, smiling down at her, “that Finn is a good farmer. And I have had more than one conversation with him myself on the subject of crops and livestock and drainage and such and have found him a most knowledgeable fellow.”

She beamed happily back at him.

They proceeded on their way between green fields just beginning to turn to gold and thick hedgerows in which wildflowers were entangled, their collective perfumes lying heavy on the air, all the ladies chattering merrily about the coming assembly.