They strolled out into a walled garden at the side of the house. "Do you mind going with Olivia?" she asked.

He crossed his fingers in plain view and said, "I am charmed. I could say that without lying if you were coming with us. But you ought to see Castlefield. I wonder why the baroness has no interest in her future home. This, I collect, is a courting visit?"

"Only on Lord Talman's side, I fear. The girl is certainly up to something. Why does she insist on Gatwick, when Crawley is larger, and closer?"

"And why ten o'clock? It sounds like an assignation. Who could she be meeting?"

"Mr. Yarrow," Laura said with a tsk of annoyance. "If you see his yellow curricle, steer her away."

"Easy as steering a whirlwind."

Laura gave a commiserating smile. "I really should go with you," she said.

"No, stay and enjoy the tour. I shall make sure she gets home undamaged."

"It is very kind of you."

"Your thanks is my reward. You will enjoy the tour, I think. The Peacock Room is one of the points of interest," he said, and continued with a few anecdotes and historical facts about the house.

Soon it was time for him to meet Olivia. Laura went to alert her mother to the tour, and for the next two hours forgot all about Olivia Pilmore, as she was guided from one splendor to another, gaping and gasping with admiration, and eventually fatigue, for it was a very large house.

Lord Hyatt spent a less enjoyable morning. The baroness's idea of conversation was to laugh at the quaint carriages and farmers they passed on the road, and to tell him at every picturesque view that he ought to paint it. It was ten o'clock when they entered the village. Hyatt looked sharply about for a yellow curricle but saw none.

"The church is just at the end of the High Street," he said, as she had mentioned the church. Really, there was not a deal to amuse a lady in the village.

"Lovely, but first I must just dash into the drapery shop and buy a-some new silk stockings," she invented. "Mine have got a hole in the toe."

Her artless excuse did not deceive Hyatt for a moment. "I'll go with you," he said, and drew to a stop in front of the shop.

"You will not want to waste your time dawdling about in here. Why do you not run along and have a look at the church? It will save time."

So much for her eagerness to view the church. "I need some buttons," he said, and dismounted. A boy darted forward to grab the reins.

Olivia looked up and down the street. John's curricle was not in evidence, but she had no doubt he was inside, waiting for her. "What sort of buttons do you need? I'll get them for you-my gift, Lord Hyatt."

"You are too kind, but I always select my own buttons."

This was impossible. It was by the buttons and ribbons that she was to meet John. Hyatt would certainly recognize him and tell Laura. Olivia was temporarily bereft of inspiration but hoped John would have the wits to hide behind the ells of muslin when he saw Hyatt. She peered to the back of the shop but saw no sign of him.

"I feel dreadfully weak, Lord Hyatt," she said. "I wonder if you would mind darting across to the chemist's shop and getting me some hartshorn."

"The clerk here will have some," he replied, with a sapient look, and held her by the elbow, forcing her to accompany him while he spoke to the clerk.

"The lady is feeling faint. Could she have a glass of water, please?" he said.

The clerk was happy to oblige such exalted clients, and darted off for the water. Olivia fanned herself with her handkerchief while peering all about the shop. While she drank the water, Hyatt made a more thorough examination of the premises and had soon determined that there was no one there except two harmless housewives, intent on selecting their summer muslin. His vain hope was to hustle her out of the shop before Yarrow arrived.

"Feeling better now? Shall we select those stockings?" he said.

She scowled. "No, I feel considerably worse. I asked for hartshorn, not water."

Hyatt drew a deep sigh and spoke to the clerk.

"I am afraid I have no hartshorn-perhaps a glass of wine for the lady?" the man suggested.

"Lovely!" Olivia smiled. "And a chair, if you would be so kind."

She was soon settled comfortably in, sipping wine, and waiting. "Why do you not run along and see the church now, Lord Hyatt?" she suggested again. "As I am feeling so dreadfully faint, I shall wait for you here."

He leveled a determined stare at her. "I would not dream of abandoning a lady when she is unwell. I shall suggest to Mrs. Traemore that you spend the afternoon in bed to recover."

An angry splotch of red blossomed on her cheeks. The baroness knew she had met her match in determination, but she was far from giving up. If she could not talk to John, she would leave him a note, to be delivered by the clerk. She beckoned this helpful person forward. "Do you have a ladies' room? I am suddenly feeling very nauseous," she said, with a quick, angry glance at the cause of her condition.

The clerk literally wrung his hands. "Oh, dear! It is hardly a ladies' room-merely a convenience for the staff."

"That will be fine," she said, and rose. "Where is it?"

He pointed to a corridor behind the desk. "On the left."

She pranced off, with a triumphant grin at Hyatt.

"Does the room have a window?" Hyatt asked the clerk.

"No, nor even a mirror. I fear the lady will not be comfortable there."

"No window, eh? Then she will slip you a note before she leaves. Don't deliver it," he said, and dropped a coin into the clerk's hand to buy his assistance. The man looked a question. "My niece is trying to arrange a runaway match. We are staying at Castlefield. His Grace will appreciate your help," he said, dropping these impressive hints to assure compliance.

"Oh, my! Castlefield, you say."

"Just so. There will be no need to send the note there, however. Just tear it up, or burn it."

Hyatt had read the baroness well. Her first interest was to look for a window. Finding none, she dashed a note off to John to leave with the clerk. When she came out and saw Hyatt in close conversation with the man, however, she feared his trick. She would not leave her note with the clerk. She would hide it among the wares. John was up to all the rigs. He would find it. The clerk would tell him which counters she visited.

"I am feeling much better now," she smiled, and came forward. "Where would I find the stockings, sir?"

The clerk directed her to one side of the store. Hyatt followed while she examined the wares. There was still no sign of Yarrow. He wandered off a few paces, looking idly about at the buttons but not bothering with the farce of buying any. Olivia moved on to the hosiery. With her back to him, she stuffed her note under the stockings as she selected a pair to purchase, quite oblivious to size and color. She took her selection to the clerk.

When he told her the price, she laughed merrily. "Oh, dear! I have come without any money. Hyatt, could you lend me some?"

Hyatt glanced at the pair of mustard yellow stockings she held and shook his head. He paid for them and accompanied Olivia to the street, relieved to get her away from the shop.

"I expect you are eager to get back to Castlefield," she said. "I am all finished. What a lovely selection of stockings they had there."

"We have not seen the church."

She glanced to the end of the street, where the spire of an old stone church rose into the sky. "There it is. We can see it quite well from here."

"We shall examine the interior," he said, to punish her.

Olivia gave a bored sigh. "What for? If you want to remain in the village, let us have a cup of tea." She took his arm and drew him forward. He went without argument, but he did not intend to treat her to tea. The church was beyond the tea shop.

As they drew near the tea shop, the door opened and Yarrow came catapulting out. Olivia saw him and gave a little squeal of pleasure.

"Well, by Jove, if it ain't Olivia!" Yarrow exclaimed, in a very poor simulation of surprise. He bowed to her and Hyatt.

"I had no idea you were visiting Mr. Jantzen," Olivia said, thus revealing her close familiarity with his doings.

"Just dropped down for the weekend. Boxing match, you know. I am surprised you ain't in the drapery shop, Olivia." He cast a guilty glance at Hyatt and added, "The ladies, you know. Always like to have a rifle through the goods in every shop."

"I have already been there," she said, narrowing her eyes in a meaningful way. "Buying stockings. I looked through the threads and things, but I only bought stockings."

"Just so. The stockings. Well, it was jolly nice chatting with you. See you back in town next week, I expect?"

"Certainly," Olivia said. "We leave Monday morning. Only two more days," she added, as though she were incarcerated, and not being entertained in the most lavish home in the country.

Yarrow made an awkward, exaggerated bow and strutted on to the drapery shop, where he had soon found his billet-doux nestled among the silk stockings.

Afternoon, between three and four. Mole River, bridge, willow trees. Couldn't miss it. He pocketed the note and sauntered forth, smiling.

Lord Hyatt kept the baroness at the church for half an hour, at which time his own patience gave out and he took her back to Castlefield. Her lively spirits left him in no doubt that she had hoodwinked him. Left a note at the stocking counter, very likely, but there was no point charging her with it. The hussy lied as naturally as a dog scratched his fleas.

The tour was just finishing when he reached Castlefield. He met Laura and went out to the garden for a private word with her. "Yarrow was there," he said. "I did my best, but from her smug smiles, I fear she outwitted me." He gave her a lively rendition of his morning.