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He did not blink. "Did I?"

She shot him a glare, daring him to smirk. He did not, though she saw his mouth twitch in the mirror over the mantel.

"I cannot set foot beyond the front stoop," she muttered. "I attempted to send a note to Charlotte, and two correspondents nearly snatched it from the messenger's hand."

"If it is any consolation, the press were barred from Lady Calliwell's ballroom. They have nothing but speculation to feed upon."

"It is not," Adelaide replied, "any consolation. They are inventing half of it as they go." She glanced at him in the mirror, saw the thoughtful cast of his blue-gray eyes. "You have not addressed the true scandal."

"Which is?"

She flipped open the Gazette, flattening it on the table between them. "They believe last night's waltz signified a love match. That you are wholly and fatally besotted."

He met her gaze in the glass. "Are they wrong?"

She was saved from answering by a fresh commotion outside: a squadron of newsboys had convened on the corner, waving their papers and shrieking, "Ravensmere! New Duchess takes Mayfair by storm!" A dog barked, a lady's maid screamed, and the footman dashed past the drawing room at a dead run.

Adelaide closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It will never end."

She heard Julian rise, and heard the soft footfall of his boots on the Turkish carpet as he approached. He picked up the Gazette from the table and scanned it, his brow furrowing. "They printed my age wrong by three years."

"That is your chief concern?"

He ignored her. "And they spelled 'expedition' with two s's. These people require a proper editor."

"I require a proper sedative," Adelaide countered, "and possibly a false mustache if I am ever to walk in public again." She folded her arms, staring out the window at the press mob. "I should have known London would be like this. I read the stories. I simply never believed I would become one."

"Do you wish to escape?" Julian asked.

She blinked. "Escape?"

He tucked the Gazette under his arm. "The stables are unguarded. I checked half an hour ago."

A small thrill darted up her spine. "You are suggesting we abscond through the rear passage, disguised as ourselves?"

"No disguise," he said, his lips quirking at the corner. "Only an immediate and total flight."

She hesitated for the span of two heartbeats, then squared her shoulders. "Done."

He led her briskly from the drawing room, down the service hallway where the maid and Mrs. Rutherford still wrangled over the tea. The rear servants' passage, narrow and walled with pale stone, opened onto the carriage yard behind Ravensmere House. The ostlers, shoveling dung and minding the tack, barely spared them a glance as Julian swept open the stable door. Inside, two glossy bays already waited, saddled and eager.

"Will you scandalize the neighborhood by riding astride?" he asked as he handed her the reins.

Adelaide swung up in a movement she knew would mortify her Aunt Beatrice. "Only if you will race me to Hyde Park."

He grinned openly now. "You will lose."

"Not a chance," she said, and spurred the horse through the side gate.

The ride was electric: brisk air, the click of hooves on pavement, and the wind snatching at her bonnet. Julian caught up within minutes, drawing alongside her as they made for the park. The world contracted to the space between their horses, the rush of passing carriages, and the whoop of a newsboy who spotted them from a distance and began sprinting down the embankment.

They reached Hyde Park in record time, outpacing their would-be pursuer. The main promenade, a broad gravel avenue lined by elms, had already begun to fill with morning riders and strolling parties.

"Observe the vultures," Julian said, nodding discreetly at a knot of society ladies whose bonnets swiveled in perfect unison to mark their arrival.

"They are a natural phenomenon," Adelaide replied, chin high. "London's own flock of scarlet ibis."

"One does not often see an ibis on horseback," Julian said, delight in his voice. He slowed his mount to a gentle trot, and Adelaide matched his pace as they skirted the edge of the Serpentine.