She was gazing at him, saucer-eyed.

“Lady Muir?” she said. “Grosvenor Square? And she wants me to call there with you?”

“That is what she says,” he said, picking up the letter and handing it to her.

She read it, her toast forgotten, her mouth slightly open, her eyes still wide with amazement. She read it again. And she looked up at him.

“Oh, Hugo,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Oh, Hugo.”

He guessed that she wanted to go.

Lauren was at Kilbourne House on the afternoon when Gwen had invited Lord Trentham to call with his sister. She had begged to be allowed to be there for the occasion. Gwen’s mother and Lily were at home too. They had wanted Gwen to accompany them on a visit to Elizabeth, Duchess of Portfrey, and she had felt obliged to admit that she was expecting callers. She could hardly then withhold the names of those visitors.

She would much rather have had only Lauren for company. Oh, and perhaps Lily too—Lily had been absurdly disappointed to hear that Gwen had refused Lord Trentham and that he had gone away without another word. She had seen him as a romantic as well as heroic figure and had hoped he would be the one to sweep Gwen off her feet.

Gwen’s mother looked puzzled and a little troubled when she learned who the visitors were. Lily, on the other hand, regarded her sister-in-law with bright, speculative eyes but made no comment.

“It was only civil to invite them to call, Mama,” Gwen explained. “Lord Trentham did save me from what could have been a very nasty fate when I was staying with Vera in Cornwall, after all.”

The four of them sat in the drawing room as the appointed hour approached, looking out upon bright sunshine, and Gwen wondered if her visitors would come or not—and whether she wanted them to come.

They came, almost exactly upon the dot of two.

“Lord Trentham and Miss Emes,” the butler announced, and they stepped into the room.

Miss Emes was as different from her brother as it was possible to be. She was of medium height but very slender. She was blond and fair-complexioned and had light blue eyes, which were as wide as saucers now. Poor girl, it must be a horrid shock to her to find herself confronting four ladies when she had expected one. She stood very close to her brother’s side and looked as if she would hide behind him if he had not had her arm very firmly tucked beneath his own.

Gwen’s eyes moved unwillingly to him. To Hugo. He was smartly dressed, as usual. But he still looked like a fierce, barbaric warrior masquerading as a gentleman. And he was scowling more than he was frowning. He must be equally shocked to discover that this was not to be a private audience just with her.

Well, she thought, if they wished to move in tonnish circles, they must grow accustomed to being in a room with more than one member of the ton at a time, and with more than one titled member. Though Hugo had, of course, had a taste of it at Newbury Abbey.

Her heart was thumping uncomfortably.

“Miss Emes,” she said, getting to her feet and stepping forward, “how delightful of you to come. I am Lady Muir.”

“My lady.” The girl slid her arm free of her brother’s and sank into a deep curtsy without removing her wide eyes from Gwen’s.

“This is my mother, the Dowager Countess of Kilbourne,” Gwen said, “and the countess, my sister-in-law. And Lady Ravensberg, my cousin. Lord Trentham, you have met everyone before.”

The girl curtsied again, and Lord Trentham inclined his head stiffly.

“Do have a seat,” Gwen said. “The tea tray will be here in a moment.”

Lord Trentham sat on a sofa, and his sister sat beside him, so close that she leaned against him from shoulder to hip. There was bright color high in her cheeks. If she had been a child, Gwen thought, she would surely have turned her head to hide her face against his sleeve. She had not taken her eyes from Gwen’s.

She was passably pretty, Gwen decided, even if not a raving beauty. And she was well enough dressed, though without flair.

Gwen smiled at her.

“I daresay, Miss Emes,” she said, “you are happy to have your brother in London.”

“I am, my lady,” the girl said, and there was a pause during which Gwen thought that making conversation might well prove to be very difficult indeed. How could she help a girl who would not help herself? But she was not finished. “He is a great hero. My papa was fit to bursting with pride before he died last year, and so was I. But more than that, I have adored Hugo all my life. I have been told that I cried for three days straight after he went off to war when I was still very young. I have longed and longed for him to come home ever since. And now at last he has, and he is going to stay at least until the summer.”

She had a light, pretty voice. It was slightly breathless, which was understandable under the circumstances. But her words lit up her face and made her several degrees prettier than Gwen had thought at first. And finally the girl looked away from Gwen in order to glance worshipfully at her brother.

He looked back at her with obvious affection.

“Your words do you credit, Miss Emes,” Lauren said. “But men will go off to war, you know, and leave their more sensible womenfolk behind to worry.”

They all laughed and the tension was somewhat eased. Gwen’s mother asked after the health of Mrs. Emes, and Lily told the girl that not all women were sensible enough to stay home from war, that she had grown up in the train of an army and had even spent a few years in the Peninsula before coming to England.

“It was England that was the foreign country to me,” she said, “even though I was English by birth.”

Trust Lily to talk instead of simply to ask questions. She had set the girl more at her ease, Gwen could see.

The tea tray had been brought in, and Lily was pouring.

This was not just a social call, Gwen reminded herself, despite what her mother and Lily must assume. She exchanged a glance with Lauren.

“Miss Emes,” she said, “I understand that it is your dream to attend a ton ball during the Season.”

The girl’s eyes went wide again, and she blushed.

“Oh, it is, my lady,” she said. “I thought that perhaps Hugo … Well, he is a lord. But I suppose I am just being silly. Though he has promised that he will arrange it before the Season is over, and Hugo always keeps his promises. But …”

She stopped talking and darted an apologetic glance at her brother.

He had not told her, then, Gwen thought. Perhaps he did not believe she would keep her promise and had not wanted to disappoint his sister.

“Miss Emes,” Lauren said, “my husband and I, together with his parents, are to host a ball at Redfield House at the end of next week. It will be early enough in the Season that I daresay everyone will come. It will be a great squeeze, and I shall be flushed with triumph. I would be delighted if you would attend with Lord Trentham.”

The girl gaped and then closed her mouth with an audible clicking of her teeth.

Dear Lauren. This had not been arranged in advance. Gwen had thought of taking the girl to a smaller affair, at least for her first appearance. But perhaps a grand squeeze—and Lauren’s ball was bound to be that—would be better. There would be larger crowds and therefore less reason for self-consciousness.

“That,” Lord Trentham said, speaking for almost the first time since he stepped into the room, “is extremely kind of you, ma’am. But I am not sure—”

“You may come under my sponsorship, Miss Emes,” Gwen said, looking at Lord Trentham as she spoke. “But with your brother as an escort, of course. A young lady ought to have a female sponsor instead of just her brother, and I would be delighted to assume that role.”

Her mother, she was aware, was very silent.

“Oh,” Miss Emes said, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that Gwen could see the white of her knuckles. “You would do that, my lady? For me?”

“I would indeed,” Gwen said. “It would be fun.”

Fun?

What do you do for fun, Lord Trentham had asked her once at Penderris, and she had wondered at the word addressed to an adult woman.

“Oh, Hugo.” The girl turned her head and gazed up at him imploringly. “May I?”

His hand came across to cover both of hers in her lap.

“If you wish, Connie,” he said. “You can give it a try anyway.”

I thought we might give it a try. He had spoken those words at Newbury after he had offered Gwen marriage. He met her eyes briefly now, and she could tell that he was remembering too.

“Thank you,” the girl said, looking first at him and then at Lauren and then at Gwen. “Oh, thank you. But I have nothing to wear.”

“We will see to that,” Lord Trentham said.

“Neither do I.” Gwen laughed. “Which is not strictly true, of course, as I daresay it is not of you, Miss Emes. But this is a new spring and a new Season, and there is all the necessity of having new and fashionable clothes with which to astonish society. Shall we go in search of them together? Tomorrow morning, perhaps?”

“Oh, Hugo,” the girl said, looking pleadingly at him again, “may I? I still have all the pin money you have allowed me in the last year.”

“You may go,” he said, “and have the bills sent to me, of course.” He looked at Gwen. “Carte blanche, Lady Muir. Constance must have everything she will need for the ball.”

“And for other occasions too?” Gwen asked. “One ball is not going to satisfy either your sister or me, you know. I am quite certain of that.”