"Ugh!" Henry sympathized. "If it weren't Peter, of all people, that we have to live with! Can you believe that he is our own brother, Giles? He is so prosy and starchy. And our sister-in-law, Marian!" Henry rolled bright eyes to the sky.

"Well, there is nothing we can do about it," Giles said philosophically. He snickered suddenly. "Can you see Marian's face when the twins arrive with Brutus? She will not know whether to put the dog into a kennel or a stable."

"Well, he is rather large," Henry conceded. "Let us just hope, Giles, that he does not take a liking to Marian. She may find herself on her back half the time fending off his loving tongue."

They both snorted with mirth.

"What about Oscar?" Giles said, and they both doubled up with loud glee.

"He is rather a naughty parrot," Henry allowed. "The landlord of the Pigeon should never have given Philip leave to bring him home. Goodness knows who abandoned him at the inn."

"Probably someone who could not tolerate his bad language any longer," Giles suggested. "But really, Henry, the one I feel most sorry for is Manny. You know how she can be reduced to a quivering jelly by anyone who says a cross word to her. And I think old Peter and Marian will be blaming her for your lack of behavior, not to mention the twins."

"That would be most unfair," Henry said, temper flaring in defense of their longtime governess, Miss Eugenia Manford. "Manny does her best. Can she be blamed if we have learned to twist her around our little fingers? And I shall tell Peter so, you may be sure."

George Hyde and Douglas Raeburn had caught up with them by this time. "It is certainly going to be different around here without any Tallants living at Roedean," George said.

"It is all very well for you to talk," Henry said, and for Giles, too. You can be at university and have lots of fun. And Giles will not miss Roedean as I will. Even during the Christmas vacation he stayed in London most of the time, socializing."

"Well, if it's socializing you want, Henry"-Giles grinned-"you will soon have plenty of it."

"You are not going to mention that, are you?" Henry asked with a menacing frown.

"From tomorrow on, my dear Henrietta," her brother taunted, "it is going to be ball dresses and slippers and frizzed curls and bonnets and gloves for you. And balls and breakfasts and routs. Marian has your come-out all planned, you know."

"Don't be horrid!" Henry said, throwing herself in fury at her brother's chest and punching him soundly with flailing fists.

"Hey, watch it, you little termagent," he yelped between laughs. He grabbed for her wrists. "There will be a line of suitors a mile long coming to throw themselves at your feet, and bouquets and posies and proposals by the score," he continued, tempting fate.

"Oh, you!" Henry blustered, aiming a kick at her brother's shin. "I should rather die. I won't do it, so there! And I

shall tell Marian so, too. She can't force me into anything so horrid."

"I don't think you need worry, anyway, Henry," Douglas said soothingly, but not too wisely, "I don't think you are in any danger of taking with the ton."

"Oh?" Henry had gone very still, her fight with her brother forgotten.

While George coughed warningly and Giles grinned appreciatively, Douglas continued. "Well, look at you, Henry," he said. "Even with girl's clothes on, you look rather like a boy masquerading. You do not do anything as ladies do.

"I do not have a large bosom, either, Douglas," she said, fixing him with a severe eye.

He had the grace to blush. I was just trying to reassure you that you do not have to worry about attracting the men," he mumbled uneasily.

"Do you want to bet?"

"A wager? You see what I mean, Henry?" he said in exasperation. "Ladies do not make wagers.'

"This lady does. This lady will wager that she can find a husband during the Season."

Douglas sneered. "Which Season, though, Henry?"

"This Season," she snapped, her temper rising. "And I shall go one step further, Mr. Raeburn. I am willing to wager that I can win an offer within six weeks from now."

"It would be almost a sin to accept such a wager," Douglas replied.

"Ha, you re afraid of losing," Henry goaded.

"Just a moment, you two," Giles said, holding up his hand for peace, but grinning hugely. "You have made it rather easy for her, y'know, Doug. You don't know Henry. She is quite capable of collaring some poor puppy and forcing him to offer for her. No challenge in that."

"I always play fair!" she cut in indignantly.

"Cool down, Sis," Giles continued. "What you need to do, Doug, is to pin her down to one particular man."

"Good idea," said George. "Who, though?"

The three young men leaned against their horses and thought, while Henry hovered in the background, glowering.

"Cavendish?" suggested Douglas.

"No," said Giles after a moment's consideration, "he ain't got a chin. I wouldn't want m'nephews and nieces to be chinless."

They thought again.

"Blaisdale?" George suggested.

'No good," Giles said again. "He has to dangle after an heiress. Pockets to let all the time. Henry ain't rich. How about Eversleigh?"

There was a short, stunned silence, and the three friends burst into laughter.

"No, it would be too cruel, Douglas said. "No wager at.ill."

"What is wrong with him?" Henry asked, brows knit.

"The Duke of Eversleigh is about as starchy as they come, Henry," Giles explained kindly. "He's incredibly high in the instep. If he notices you at all, he looks at you through his eyeglass as if you were a toad who has dared to inhabit the same planet as he. And he never takes any notice at all of the young girls. Even the most persistent mamas have given up on him."

"He'll do," Henry decided. "I'll get him to offer for me.

A roar of unrestrained glee greeted this announcement.

"Within six weeks, Henry?" George asked.

"Of course," she answered. "What is so difficult about ensnaring a conceited town fop?"

"Town fop? Eversleigh? Oh, Lord," Giles gasped, collapsing into laughter again.

I don't have to marry him, anyway," Henry decided crossly. "The wager is only that I receive a proposal. Is it not, Douglas?"

"Oh, say," he said, "how will I know that you tell the truth if you don't marry the man to prove it?"

Both Henry and Giles stiffened. "My sister don't lie," Giles said, all laughter wiped from his face.

"It don't signify, anyway," George said practically. "She ain't going to win."

Henry clucked her tongue in impatience. "Let us get to the point," she said. "What do I win if you lose this wager, Douglas?"

He considered for a moment. "A new high-perch phaeton for a wedding present," he said.

"I Say!"- she replied, surprised. "That is splendid of you. Can you afford it, Douglas?"

He bowed stiffly. "That ain't a ladylike question, Henry."

"What must I forfeit in the unlikely event that I lose?" she asked airily.

He grinned. "Your horse will do," he said, glancing appreciatively at the gleaming black coat of the stallion she held by the reins.

"Jet?" she said uncertainly. "He was Papa's."

"Yes, but he's yours now, Henry. You won't have much use for him in London, anyway. And you would have to learn to ride him sidesaddle."

"Oh, I never would!" she exclaimed in dismay.

"Then it will be just as well to lose him to me," he said smugly.

"He will never be yours, Douglas," she declared. "But the wager is on. Come, shake hands on it. What is six weeks from today?"

They all did quick mental calculations.

"June eight," said George.

"Come. Manny will be fretting if we are late for tea," Henry said, removing her hand from Douglas' and mounting her tall horse without assistance.

"Yes, Your Grace of Eversleigh," Douglas snickered, and they all turned their horses' heads in the direction of the manor.

Chapter 2

The Duke of Eversleigh was up quite early and riding in the park on the morning following the farewell party for Hanley. A late night was not likely to keep him in bed. He found a brisk gallop a far more effective cure for a thick head than a morning spent sleeping.

Before noon he had returned home, changed his clothes, and driven himself to Jackson's boxing saloon, where he spent an invigorating couple of hours exercising and sparring with friends. Only the very best of Jackson's clients would accept a challenge from the duke. Lord Horton was not one of that number, but the two friends did sally forth together to White's Club afterward for luncheon.

Eversleigh was back at home again by midafternoon. After changing his clothes yet again, he sauntered down to the office occupied by his secretary, James Ridley. Ridley was a youngish man, about the same age as the duke, in his early thirties. He had been at the university with his Grace when both had been youths. His father was a country gentleman who had fallen on hard times. He had struggled to be able to educate his son, as that son would have to be gainfully employed.

Ridley had been ambitious in those days. He had hoped for a career in government service, or at the very least in the Church. He had accepted temporary employment from Eversleigh, who had befriended him and insisted that he needed a competent secretary, as his title was then new to him and his duties unsure. The temporary employment was now in its thirteenth year.