The ladies curtsied; Hyatt bowed and murmured, "Charmed.”

"I've never seen anything as pretty as your pictures," Olivia said. "Would you paint me?"

"It is a mad temptation." He smiled. "But alas! My calendar is full to overflowing." He tossed up his hands, to show the impossibility of obliging her and his sorrow at that turn of events.

"I made sure it would be, when you make all the ladies look so much prettier than they really are. Except Lady Devereau. She really is stunning. I am surprised you are leaving, when she has just arrived," Olivia said.

Hyatt looked as if he had been dowsed with cold water. His eyes opened wider, his jaw fell, and for a moment he was speechless. He soon recovered and assumed a tight smile. "Rumor to the contrary, we are not joined at the hip, Lady Devereau and I. I am late for an appointment," he said, casting a strange eye on Meadows. Laura, watching closely, discerned a glint of accusation, anger, and amusement in his look.

There was obviously some trouble between Hyatt and his mistress. He had been brutally curt with her, and he was not at all happy at Olivia's blunt question. Outrageous for the girl to have mentioned Hyatt's mistress in that insinuating way!

"Don't let us detain you, Lord Hyatt," Laura said.

They were the first words she had uttered. Hyatt turned his impertinent gaze on her and studied her for a long moment. The provincial miss wore a very ironical smile. There was knowledge in her eyes and amusement at his predicament. Although Hyatt had nothing against debs, he preferred experienced ladies. This quiet one seemed to embody the old saw that still waters run deep. It was a fleeting thought, soon forgotten.

"Yes, I really must run. It was delightful to meet you, ladies. I expect I shall see you at all the balls."

He bowed and hurried off.

"My, is he not pretty?" Olivia said, and immediately forgot him. "If Lord Hyatt is too busy to paint me, we should get hold of another artist soon. Mr. Lawrence, did you say, Laura?"

"Sir Thomas Lawrence."

"You should contact him at once," Meadows suggested. "He will have his hands full, too, but he seldom turns down a commission. Paints too much, some say. His work is a little uneven. I am sorry we could not get Hyatt. Perhaps I can twist his arm a little."

"Offer him twice his usual commission," Olivia said.

"That wouldn't do it. He contributes his earnings to charity." But Meadows had a notion what might turn the trick. As soon as Hyatt learned the commission he had turned down was the lady who drove the Turtle, and who would certainly be one of the Originals of the Season, he would be more interested. Hyatt liked Originals.

"What was your meaning, then, Mr. Meadows?" Laura asked.

He gave a mischievous wink that sat oddly on his stolid face. "I shan't tell you until I have succeeded. Would you like to return to the exhibition or go for a drive in the park?"

Olivia chose the park, and as she was usually deferred to in such matters, that was where they went. They alighted and strolled around the grounds, where an unconscionable number of gentlemen accosted them, all eager to meet the baroness. They were, per force, introduced to Laura as well. When it came out that she had made her bows five years before, some of them claimed to remember her, but the blank look on their faces belied this polite lie.

When the ladies were taken home, Olivia said, "You certainly have a great many friends, Laura.”

Laura just smiled, for she knew the futility of disclaiming credit for the throng of blue jackets. As they dressed for dinner at Mrs. Aubrey's that evening, she could only marvel at how well the Season was turning out, after her fears that it would be another disaster. They had even met the Season's social lion, Lord Hyatt. That would not have happened during her first Season.

The most outstanding feature of Mrs. Aubrey's dinner party was that their hostess handed them cards to Lady Morgan's ball. Lady Morgan had never met any of them, but like every other informed hostess, she had heard of the baroness, and was eager to get this large fish in her net.

The rest of the evening was pleasant but not outstanding. Mrs. Aubrey had taken pains not to include any competition for her nephew. Her only complaint was that Robert spent a little too much time with Miss Harwood.

Chapter Five

Monsieur LaPierre, who came to arrange the ladies' coiffures the next morning, was as good as Madame Dupuis had promised. He tamed the baroness's curly mop to some semblance of fashion, and, after informing Laura that the cheribime was passee, decided that it suited her.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed.

Monsieur LaPierre hurried on to reassure her. "You, mam'selle, are a lady who prefers style over fashion. That is rare. To be a la mode-that is accomplished by the latest bonnet or gown, easily acquired by anyone. Mais le vrai style-that is a gift," he said, and bowed.

Laura blinked to hear her quiet mode of dressing suddenly raised to the eminence of "style." "Merci," she murmured.

Monsieur Pierre smiled and continued, "You have the wisdom, mam'selle. Not for you the froufrou and furbelows au courant for the hour."

When he had left, Laura examined her coiffure and was pleased with it. Her natural curl was enhanced by the shorter length. One wayward lock slid over her forehead, to flirt about her temple. Her curls bounced gaily when she moved. She felt lighter, younger… Next she examined her gown. It was of simple blue sarcenet, for the weather was not yet warm enough for sprigged muslin. The gown's severe cut followed the line of her body, not the fashion of the Empress style, which she had always found unattractive. Ladies were given small waists; why hide them under a bag dress?

Yes, the gown was attractive, but it was almost too severe. It lacked that dash that would set it apart. Olivia, taking pity on her cousin's drab ensemble, handed her a mulled gold shawl.

"Try this around your shoulders," she suggested.

Laura tried it at her shoulders but was not satisfied. She let it fall lower, to the waist. Then lower still, till it rested on the top of her hips. That was different… When she tied it, the fringed ends hung below her knees and swayed when she walked.

"That looks funny," Olivia said, frowning.

"I am too old to worry about appearing funny," Laura said, and tossed her shoulders at her own folly. "If such an aged creature as I did not look a little 'funny,' she would not be noticed at all."

"You told me it was vulgar to appear different."

"It is the last resort of ape leaders, child. At your age, you have no need of such stunts. My, that coiffure does look nice!"

Olivia was satisfied with this compliment. She was further pleased with Mr. Meadows's compliments, when he brought another carriage around for her to try that afternoon. "That is a very dashing coiffure, Baroness," he said.

Olivia flushed in pleasure and said, "Cousin Laura had her hair done as well."

"Very nice," he said dutifully, but Olivia noticed where his praise was first delivered and felt Laura did not have Mr. Meadow so firmly in her grasp as she thought.

Meadows was now treated like an old friend at Charles Street. He was to take the young ladies for a drive in the park and return for tea.

The new carriage was a bottle-green landau, with a split top that could be let down on sunny days or put up if the weather was inclement. The squabs were of the requisite velvet, and the trappings of gilt. Olivia fell in love with it on sight. The only objection was the softness of the seat backs.

"It's lovely!" she squealed. "How clever you are, Mr. Meadows, to find exactly what I want."

"Actually, it was Miss Harwood who suggested one like Lady Sifton's."

"But you found it. Auntie will have to use her recliner," she said, dismissing that problem. She did not bother to inquire for its cost, and when Mr. Meadows told her, she hardly listened.

"I must have it. Are the team for sale, too? I do think the grays go uncommonly well with green. Much better than my carriage team. They are part draft horse. The berlin is very heavy."

"I borrowed the team from a chap I know. Warner is in dun territory and is selling his prads at a bargain price."

"Come in and Auntie will write the checks. Now all that remains is for you to find me a mount, and I shan't bother you any further."

"Why, have you forgotten I am to take you to Astley's Circus and to Exeter Exchange? I hope you will let me accompany you on your rides as well," he said, with pleasing promptness.

"We should be happy for your company, eh, Laura?"

"I must hire a mount," Laura said, with very little interest. She liked country riding, but jogging along at a walk in Rotten Row had no interest for her. "Or if Mr. Meadows is to accompany you, then perhaps…"

"No need to hire one," he said. "My aunt would be happy for you to use hers, if you care to join us one day."

During the drive to Hyde Park, Olivia rejoiced at the felicity of her footmen's livery matching her new carriage, for the Pilmore footmen had worn green forever. It was her own favorite color. Did Laura not think her green suit with the brass buttons an excellent match for the carriage as well? Laura did not think the grass green of livery and that particular suit the best match for a bottle green carriage, but before she could reply, Meadows fired off a barrage of praise, so she said nothing.

His approval of the green livery finally confirmed Laura's growing suspicion that Mr. Meadows intended to attach Olivia. That halfhearted mention of her, Laura's, joining them for a ride 'one day' had pretty well told the story. He wanted to be alone with Olivia.