Laura wondered how she could ever have mistaken his friendliness as a compliment to herself. What a ninny she was to think Meadows, who had always held himself pretty high, should suddenly be interested in her. Of course it was the baroness in whom they were all interested. She must not make that mistake again. Her head had been turned by Monsieur LaPierre's praise, but meaningless compliments were part of a coiffeur's stock and trade.

As the other two chatted, with more flirtation than common sense in their talk, Laura reviewed Hettie Traemore's requirements for a husband for Livvie: 'a nice, sound, sensible fellow who will be content to return to Cornwall and not want to be jauntering off to London every season. We don't want Livvie to abandon her estate. He must have a good head for business-the mine is a great deal of work.'

Meadows seemed a good candidate. He had a small estate of his own, nothing to compare with Olivia's. He would not balk at removing to Cornwall, where he would be set up as the most important gentleman in the neighborhood. There was no point thinking any of the more illustrious peers would be so obliging in that respect. They had their own affairs to tend to and would certainly plan to spend much time in London. To put the cap on the match, Olivia seemed very fond of Meadows. The attraction went back to their first meeting. She had assumed Olivia would make a grander match, but as her cousin required neither money, an estate, nor a title, she could marry where she wished.

Laura mentally released Mr. Meadows with scarcely a wisp of regret. She must be sure to let Olivia know that Meadows had never been more than a friend to herself. They toured the park once, then got out to stroll in the sunlight. It was one of those fine spring days, warmer than summer, with hardly a breeze stirring the branches. Laura had a sense that Meadows had chosen one particular spot to descend. He suggested they alight at the northeast corner, despite a confusion of carriages there. Once they began walking, he seemed to be looking around for someone.

Before long, he exclaimed in a voice of simulated surprise, "Why, there is Lord Hyatt! You remember we met him at Somerset House yesterday, Baroness?" Most of his comments either began or ended with the word 'baroness.' Laura felt she had been reduced to a chaperone and resented it.

Hyatt came smiling forward, removing his hat to bow to the ladies. The sun struck his wheat-blond hair, giving him a halo. Yet, despite the halo, he bore no resemblance to a saint. There was mischief on his handsome face and dancing in his dark eyes. Oh yes, this meeting had definitely been arranged, and she was highly curious to discover why.

"Baroness," he smiled, then turned to Laura. "And Miss-"

"Harwood," Meadows supplied.

As Hyatt's attention had turned to the baroness, Laura did not even honor him with a curtsy, but only nodded.

Meadows relinquished Olivia to Lord Hyatt and fell into step with Laura behind as they all strolled through the park. "Did you arrange to meet Lord Hyatt here?" Laura asked.

"I left a note at his house suggesting it. He was not home. I was not sure he would come."

"What was the reason for that, Mr. Meadows? I cannot think it wise to be setting up a rendezvous with such a man."

"You'll see," he said mysteriously.

She gave up chiding him and listened to Olivia and Hyatt instead. The rake's conversation did not sound objectionable.

"I understand you come all the way from Cornwall?" Hyatt was saying. "That is a long trip. I hope you have a comfortable carriage."

"Indeed, yes. Papa bought a berlin some years ago. It is the most comfortable rig you have ever seen."

Laura soon got a definite sense that Hyatt was egging her on. He inquired for the team and said, "Six horses! It must be a big carriage. I wonder that anyone could pass you on the road.”

"They couldn't," she said simply.

He laughed. "I know it well, for I was stuck behind you for ten miles on my way back from Hyatt Hall, in Kent, cursing you roundly for that sluggish Turtle shell you inhabit.”

"Oh, you were teasing, Lord Hyatt! But you will not be held up by me again. I have got a lovely new landau this very day."

"Then the cartoon in the shop windows must be changed."

"What do you mean?" she asked, and he explained, ending with, "It is a great compliment, you must know."

"You mean there is a picture of me in a shop window?" she exclaimed. "How exciting! I must see it. Whoever would have thought-and I didn't think I would make a dent in society."

"You will bowl it over, I promise you."

"I don't suppose there will be many ladies as rustic as I am," she said. "But really a cartoon is no compliment. More like an insult. Do I look horrid?"

He studied her a moment and said, "Now that I have had the opportunity of seeing you more closely, I cannot say it is a flattering likeness. But then I, as an artist, appreciate the impossibility of capturing such liveliness on paper. It is no insult, I promise you. You are in excellent company, flanked by the Prince Regent on one side and our Prime Minister on the other."

"Why, I am practically famous!" she laughed, and turned to relate this marvel to Laura, who had already heard the story from Mr. Meadows.

Laura was uncomfortable to see Olivia with this infamous rake and spoke rather stiffly. "Don't let it go to your head," she said. "The cartoon is of the berlin, not you."

"I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about my carriage. It was my Cousin Laura who insisted on the landau," Olivia explained to Hyatt. "She is up to all the rigs."

Hyatt's dark eyes slid to Laura. He wondered at her lack of enthusiasm in this meeting. He was not a vain man, but as he spent half his life running from ladies, he had thought a provincial miss would be pleased at his company. Miss Harwood's stony face made it clear she was far from pleased.

"Shall we return to the carriage now?" Laura said to Meadows.

"We just got here," Olivia pouted.

"Let us walk on a while," Meadows suggested, and they continued.

They walked four abreast now, Laura walking between Hyatt and Meadows. Hyatt addressed himself to Olivia, and Laura listened.

"You are wearing a new coiffure, if I am not mistaken?" he said.

"Yes, my cousin said I should. Monsieur LaPierre gave us both a new do."

"Is Miss Harwood your chaperone?" he asked.

Laura heard the question and was seized with rage. Chaperone! She was only twenty-two.

Olivia just laughed. "Good gracious, no! My aunt and Mrs. Harwood are chaperoning us. We are both on the catch for a husband. But Cousin Laura is so fussy!" she added in a confidential tone.

Hyatt turned and saw Laura glaring at him. "It does not pay for even an Incomparable to be too fussy," he said, with a mischievous smile that at once acknowledged his own solecism, her anger, and his exaggeration of her charms to appease her-and laughed at the whole affair.

Laura's anger melted like a snowflake in the oven. There was something about the man… One felt she had been set apart when he smiled at her. Laura said saucily, "I had not thought to hear Lord Hyatt recommend a lack of fussiness. You will not even paint less than perfection. How then can you expect a lady to shackle herself for life to just anyone?"

"You misunderstand me, ma'am. I am not recommending you take up with just any old yahoo-some such derelict as Lord Hyatt, for example. No, I am sure your suitors all hopped out of the very top drawer. Yet you were too fussy to choose among them."

"Just so," she said, with one of the new ironical smiles she had assumed for the Season. She could banter just a little with someone like Hyatt, but she was relieved when his attention returned to Olivia.

"Have you arranged for your portrait yet, Baroness?" he asked.

"My aunt is going to write to Sir Thomas Lawrence today."

He stopped walking and just stood, looking at her. That hair would be a challenge. It flamed like fire. A nice contrast to her complexion. The girl was a hoyden-a new style of model for him. He was becoming bored with society matrons.

"Tom is very busy just now," he said. "Mind you, he would do a bang-up job. If he cannot squeeze you in, let me know. I'll make time for you. It would be a shame for you to come all the way from Cornwall and not return with your portrait-as well as a husband, of course. Let us not forget the prime reason for your visit."

"Would you do me?" Olivia said at once. "I would much rather be done by you, for you make everyone look so pretty."

He inclined his head to her and said in a flirtatious way, "One would have to be a bad artist indeed to make you look anything else but charming, Baroness."

"I would have to be chaperoned," she said. "My aunt would never let me go alone to your atelier."

If he took offense, he did not reveal it by so much as a flicker. "All my young lady models are chaperoned," he assured her. "But I do not allow a crowd of friends. A noisy audience distracts me. You, I fear, will already prove distraction enough," he finished, with a reckless smile.

"Mr. Meadows and my cousin have already offered to chaperone me," she replied. "Two friends will not be too many?"

Lord Hyatt agreed to this, and it remained only to set the hour. They stopped in the shade of a mulberry tree and sat on a bench.

Olivia looked all around and said, "I wish I could take off my shoes and stockings and run through the grass. I do it at home. It feels like cold velvet on your feet."

"Daresay you'd step on broken glass or worse here," was Meadows's mundane reply.

"Besides making a vulgar display of yourself," Laura added. She was unhappy that Meadows had somehow set up this meeting. She realized now that the purpose of it was to get Hyatt to paint Olivia. She did not in the least look forward to those endless sittings, while the two gentlemen flirted with Olivia and she sat twiddling her thumbs.