He released herslowly.
"Thank you," she said.
"You may repay me by assisting with our first official act in the Park.See there?"
He nodded toward a bench where Lady Honoria held court, a pale parasol tilted just so, her gaze sweeping the path.Standing a few paces away, looking both hopeful and doomed, was a young gentleman Esme recognized as Mr.Dane.
"He has been hovering for ten minutes," Redford said."He cannot quite bring himself to approach.Honoria, on the other hand, is desperate for something new to dissect.If he attempts to speak to you instead, he will be devoured."
"You propose to save him from me?"Esme asked."I am wounded."
"From Lady Woodmere," Redford said."She is already craning to see if he intends to offer for you in the middle of the path.I suggest we adjust matters slightly."
"What do you suggest?"
"A misdirection," he said."Smile at Mr.Dane.I'll be so obviously in your way that he must apply to someone else for assistance.Miss Moreland, perhaps, will then draw him into Honoria's orbit by asking the wrong question at precisely the right moment."
"You have already told her," Esme said.
"Minister of Chaos," he reminded her."She requires advance notice."
Esme considered the scene.Mother's hopeful attention, Mr.Dane's nerves, Honoria's sharpened fan.So little would tilt the entire arrangement.
"Very well," she said."Let us see if our Society can function beyond ballrooms."
She turned toward Mr.Dane and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
He brightened at once, took a step forward, then faltered as Redford shifted to stand more directly in his path.
Mr.Dane hovered, color rising.Genny drifted up to him.
"Mr.Dane!"she exclaimed."How fortunate.Lady Honoria was just saying she longs for intelligent company.You must rescue her at once.I shall perish if I must endure one more remark about her own poem."
Ten seconds later, Mr.Dane found himself deposited at Honoria's bench, stammering something about the weather.Honoria's eyes lit up.
"Effective," Esme said.
"Efficient," Redford replied.
Annoyingly, her stomach gave a traitorous little flip as if she had just been praised instead of teased.
Mother sighed and turned her attention to a passing baroness.
Esme felt a small thrill.
This was wrong, she knew.Manipulating other people's afternoons was not what sensible young ladies did.
But then, sensible young ladies did not form societies with rakes either.
"We shall need a motto," Redford said."All proper societies have one."
"We have rules," she said."Is that not enough?"
"Hardly," he said."Something about breathing, perhaps, or mischief restrained by mercy."
She considered."What about 'For the Prevention of Sensible Arrangements'?"
His grin was sudden and bright."Perfect.You realize, of course, that you have just given me permission to be entirely insufferable."
