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“Tut. Whatever Simon’s concerns, I hope they are not so pressing that he cannot attend his mama Monday next.”

“The occasion?” Asquith asked.

“Sir Brenton has arranged a tour of the Exchange. You will attend, won’t you, Simon?”

Asquith’s lips twisted wryly. “And I must order three carriages for all the Wainwrights, I presume?”

“Oh no,” Lady Asquith said. “Lenora will be companion enough for me.” She tapped her jeweled hand against her throne. “Let’s see. Lenora, Sir Brenton, myself, you... Seems a shame to waste such an opportunity on a mere party of four.” Her eyes lit. “Why don’t you ask Hartford’s son and daughter to join us? Preston is of age with Lenora. And I recall you having danced with Lady Amelia on more than one occasion.”

“Godmama—” Lenora protested.

“Putt-putt-putt.” Lady Asquith made a silencing gesture with her hand. “What did I just tell you about making a head start?”

Asquith glanced between them. “You want me to invite the honorable George Hartford, Viscount Preston, on an excursion to Exeter Exchange with you, Uncle Brenton, and Lenora?”

“Preston and Amelia,” Lady Asquith corrected. “And yourself, of course. However, when we’re with Preston, make sure to address Lenora as Miss Lenora. You must not give the impression that you two are overly familiar.”

Lenora felt her face heat. She shrugged her shoulders in a desperate attempt to communicate that none of this was her doing. Asquith merely held her gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Monday next, then.” He inclined his head. “Are we settled?”

“Yes,” Lady Asquith beamed. “Quite.”

“Very good.” He bowed to Lenora. “Miss Lenora.”

“Lord Asquith,” she inclined her head.

Stiffly, he walked out of the room.

“Well, that’s odd indeed.” Lady Asquith mused. “Am I imagining things, or did he seem put out by my request?”

“Lord Asquith did seem as if he had something on his mind.”

“Yes... Yes, he did.” Lady Asquith’s smile broadened. She settled back into her throne with a contented expression on her face. “Good.”

Chapter Four

Among those of the ton fortunate enough to visit D’Acre House, the Marquess of Redver’s London home left a lasting impression. Guests either loved the entry hall’s ornate paneling and large looking glasses—the artistry! the detail!—or they hurried through, horrified—Good heavens! Am I visible from every angle?!

Lenora’s perception of the hall shifted between these two extremes, influenced by her disposition or the hour. Today she was decidedly not an enthusiast.

Her bandboxes and trunks were multiplied by the mirrored surfaces, suggesting she had packed all her worldly possessions. And ad infinitum reflections of the six present ladies made the small gathering appear to be a crush.

“Are you moving away for good?” Millie asked dryly.

“Perhaps she is,” Nettie said. “One thing could lead to another and—”

“Nettie,” Lenora interrupted under her breath. Nettie’s observation came too close to Lenora’s secret desire.

She hung her head and covered her eyes.

Cassie, who had come over from Harbury House for the occasion, came to stand by her side. “Dearest, if you didn’t want to stay with Lady Asquith, you could have declined her invitation.”

“Are you suggesting I should have insulted the dowager?” She dropped her hands. “After all she’s done for us?”

“Of course not,” Cassie said. “But Godmama would have understood if you declined.”

“Actually, Lenora,” Emily observed, “I should think you’d be excited. Asquith visits Asquith House far more often than he visits here.”