"Nothing of the sort. Everyone goes. Why, you have not had a Season until you have gone to the Pantheon. Great fun, and unexceptionable. I go all the time. You wear a mask and domino, so no one will know who you are.”

"I should have to ask my aunt."

"I shouldn't do that, if I were you. The gray squadron will always squash any plan for merriment. And be sure you don't tell that man-milliner of a Meadows. He would keep you wrapped up in cotton wool, missing all the fun. I don't know how you ever fell into the hands of such a dull fellow. You would do better with people your own age. Balls and plays are for the old-timers. The real sport is not there.”

"I thought you liked the play!"

"I like the audience," he said, smiling at her with his reckless, bold smile. "If you had not told me you would be here, you wouldn't see me within a mile of the place. A dull scald, I can tell you. About the Pantheon-"

"I shall think about it," Olivia said. Knowing she was to have only one Season, she wanted it to include as many amusements as possible, and she was worried to think that the sport of people her own age was escaping her. She looked at Mr. Meadows, she looked at Laura, and she realized they were eons older than she. What did they know about anything?

When intermission was over, the black jackets returned to their own boxes, and the play resumed. Olivia was much struck with the sly trick played on Kate. That is how people behaved, trying to run a girl's life and make her do what they wanted. Well, they would not tame her! Though Petruchio was very handsome. The actor had somewhat the same square shoulders as Mr. Yarrow; also the same curled brown hair and loud laugh.

With an early sitting in the morning, Mr. Meadows took them straight home after the play. "Many people mentioned going out for dinner after the play," Olivia said. "I am very hungry."

"I am feeling peckish myself," Hettie Traemore said supportively.

"We can have toast and tea at home," Mrs. Harwood suggested.

"It will take an hour to get served in a hotel. They are lined to the doors after a play," Mr. Meadows informed them.

Olivia recognized Petruchio's trick, denying Kate while pretending it was for her own good. "Everyone will be there!" Olivia exclaimed.

Laura feared 'everyone' was Mr. Yarrow and urged the scheme of returning home at once. Outnumbered, Olivia had no option but to go with them, but she began to see that this older set had no notion of how to enjoy a Season.

"I would not have agreed to have Lord Hyatt do my portrait if I had known I had to be home at midnight," Olivia sulked.

"Why, Livvie, midnight is pretty late for us," her aunt said apologetically. "We never stay at up that late at home."

"That is all the more reason we should do it when we are in London."

"When your portrait is finished, then you can stay up later," Meadows said, to appease her.

"Then I hope it is done soon. And furthermore, I don't know why I have to wear that horrid yellow dress of Fanny's."

"She is tired," Mrs. Traemore explained to Meadows. "A nice cup of cocoa and toast will put her back in curl."

Olivia was too tired to argue further, but she took her little grudge to bed with her. And before much longer, she would escape her protectors to find the real London.

Chapter Nine

The Season continued its hectic pace. Lord Hyatt ran nearly as tame as Mr. Meadows at the mansion on Charles Street. When the recliner was required, he was as likely as Meadows to fetch it and knew to a millimeter how to adjust it to Mrs. Traemore's satisfaction.

Laura could not feel the outings the baroness arranged were at all pleasant to him. He must have seen the horses at Astley's Circus any number of times, and when he took Livvie to see the wild animals at Exeter Exchange, he hardly glanced at the famous hippopotamus. On both these outings, Laura noticed his eyes were more often trained on the baroness than the show they had paid to see. He gazed at her as if he were infatuated, smiling when she squealed at the performance of the bareback riders at the circus. At the Exeter Exchange, he even drew out a sketch pad and did a quick drawing of the baroness. He behaved like a man infatuated; yet when the outings were over, his conversation was more often directed to Laura.

"I fear we are distracting you from your work," she said.

"I am always working. Today I chose the expression for the baroness's portrait."

"Is that what you were drawing? What sort of expression did you choose?"

"A look of pure delight. It is reassuring to see that not all young ladies are blase. Mind you, when folks look at the picture they will not suspect the rapture was caused by a monkey grabbing a lady's bonnet and tramping on it. It is the glories of nature that will take credit."

He waited for some flirtatious mention of the monkey in Lady Devereau's painting and was relieved when it did not come. "Olivia is still quite innocent, despite your fears that I and my racy friends would ruin her," she said.

He made a bow. "I did you an injustice, Miss Harwood, and I apologize. The girl is overly indulged by her aunt, but that is not your fault. Since being with you and your cousin, I see your role is quite different from what I assumed. You and Mr. Meadows are in loco parentis." He had often noticed it. They watched the baroness with all the concern of worried parents. They struck him, at times, as a married couple, for they seemed to communicate without words. Laura had denied any romantic entanglement with Meadows, but he began to wonder if this was mere discretion, since she had not received an offer.

"Actually, I was flattered that you thought me so dashing," she replied, with a pert smile.

At that moment, he chose Miss Harwood's pose. He still wanted to paint her. It was that impish look that attracted him, that unsuspected dash of daring in a quiet, sedate lady. Discretion would always come first, but there was enough of the hussy to keep him interested. "But not dashing enough to be painted by Hyatt, eh?"

"It is the lady's fate when the painting is finished that deters me," she replied. The name Lady Devereau did not arise, but he understood her meaning, and was angry.

The mornings were taken up with the paintings in Hyde Park. It soon became necessary to remove the sittings from the park to Lord Hyatt's studio. Mr. Yarrow could not keep his great secret to himself. First he brought a couple of chums to the park; soon his chums had each invited a group of friends. The ladies in the party considered the outing an early morning picnic and brought along hampers of food. Olivia wanted to join the youngsters and was unhappy standing still, holding up her skirt hem. The uninvited ladies were more interested in scraping an acquaintance with Lord Hyatt. They hung in a flock at his shoulder, twittering and complimenting and hinting that they should like to be painted by him.

"We shall move the sitting to my studio tomorrow," he said, as he packed up to leave that day. The session had lasted only forty-five minutes. Very little had been accomplished. "It won't be necessary to come so early. Nine o'clock will be fine, if that suits the ladies?"

Laura heard it with relief. "That will be fine," she replied. She sensed a withdrawal in Lord Hyatt, a certain stiffness, and wondered at its cause. It must surely be due to the uninvited crowd, she surmised. He could not have taken a pet because she refused to sit for him, could he? No matter if he had. What she said was perfectly true. It would cause rumors, and she had no wish to be classed with the Lady Devereaus of the world.

Olivia, instead of apologizing for having brought the unwanted crowd down on Hyatt's head, was off consorting with the enemy. Yarrow had got her off to one side and was flirting his head off. Mr. Meadows and Laura exchanged one of their silent looks, and he went after the baroness to herd her into his carriage.

Having finished early, they returned to Charles Street before nine o'clock. "If I had my mount, I could ride in Rotten Row this morning," Olivia said. "Have you found one for me yet, Mr. Meadows?"

"We have been so busy…"

"I shan't trouble you with yet another job on my behalf,” she said, with a bold toss of her curls. "Mr. Yarrow is bringing a mount around to Charles Street at ten o'clock."

"It is no trouble!" Mr. Meadows exclaimed. "A great pleasure, Baroness. I shouldn't buy anything Yarrow recommends. It will be a flashy piece of mischief. Bolt and leave you in the dust, if I know anything."

"Oh, but I do not want a sluggard. I particularly told him I want a goer. I am not buying it, however. Mr. Yarrow is borrowing it from a friend."

"Do you plan to ride with Mr. Yarrow this morning, Livvie?" Laura asked, casting a worried look to Meadows.

"Yes, with Mr. Yarrow and a group of his young friends. A lady does like to be with people her own age from time to time," she added saucily.

Mr. Meadows, who was nudging thirty, felt the full odium of her thoughtless words. He was also worried to see the baroness fall in with such fast company. "I had best go along," he said.

"Why, you sound as if you do not trust me, Mr. Meadows," Olivia said boldly.

"Not at all. It is Yarrow and his set I cannot trust."

The baroness went upstairs to change into her riding habit as soon as they reached home. It was for Laura to tell Mrs. Traemore of Olivia's plan. She had little hope that the chaperone would scotch it.

"Livvie will be happy to get on a mount again," she smiled. "She has complained of missing it. She is a bruising rider, you must know."

"I cannot feel Mr. Yarrow is a proper escort for her," Laura said.