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“I don’t mind telling you, Miss Radstock, for you seem to appreciate the situation, but in my view, no measure is too extreme. I confined the boy to his room at Lyndale. I restricted all foods that might inflame the passions. I hired tutors to read him the most powerful tracts on moral behavior. I surrounded him with the inspiration of the most saintly figures art has produced.”

“I see,” said Emily. Again she had recourse to staring at her hands lest she give away her feelings on Lady Silsden’s program of moral improvement. “You have spared no effort to reform his character.”

“Not as long as he was in my care.”

“And how long was that, ma’am?”

“From the time he was fourteen until his eighteenth year. Sadly, in spite of all my efforts, he remains...volatile and given to behavior quite beneath the dignity of a baronet.”

“Lady Silsden, thank you for confiding in me. I will give your counsel some thought and only hope that I may have some good effect on your nephew’s character.” That, at least, Emily could promise. She certainly had no intention of harming Lynley’s character.

They had nearly completed their circuit of the park at a pace designed to put even Lady Silsden’s placid horses to sleep. Emily could see Lynley, standing with a group of gentlemen around a woman holding court in another carriage. As they drew closer, she recognized Lady Ravenhurst, her golden beauty set off by a pale lilac pelisse and white muff.

Lady Silsden’s barouche came to stop.

“I suppose, Miss Radstock, that you feel bound in conscience to continue this engagement you’ve formed.”

“I do, ma’am.”

“Well, do not worry. Look at him.” She stared pointedly at the group of laughing gentlemen around Lady Ravenhurst. Lynley appeared as rapt in admiration as the others.

Lady Silsden harrumphed. She nodded to her footman, who lowered the steps and opened the door for Emily. Then Lady Silsden offered her last words of comfort. “I daresay this whim of Lynley’s will pass soon enough, and you’ll find yourself released.”

Chapter Six

The husband hunter must be particularly on her guard when a new acquaintance, whether a lady or a gentleman, appears most open. The new friend who freely unfolds his or her history of misfortune and grievance, while entitled to polite sympathy, must be regarded with wariness. It is an easy step from engaging the husband hunter’s sympathy to asking her to open not only her heart, but also her purse and her person.

—The Husband Hunter’s Guide to London

From across the carriageway, Lynley spotted his aunt’s footman handing Emily Radstock down from the barouche. He stepped away from Lady Ravenhurst’s carriage. Emily said nothing as he took her hand, her alert gaze on Lady Ravenhurst’s admirers. In silence Lynley handed her up to the curricle seat, leaped up to take the reins, and set the carriage in motion.

He guided the horses, avoiding other vehicles and riders out of habit, surprised at her silence. In the two days they’d been acquainted, he thought he could count on her to tell him what she was thinking. Beside him she closed and unclosed her gloved hands.

“Was my aunt Silsden sufficiently frank to put you off our engagement?” he asked.

She tugged at one of her gloves, freeing the hand that wore his ring and stretching out her arm to look at the stones, the diamonds flashing around the great square amethyst.

He kept his hands easy on the reins, waiting for her to pull the thing off and slap it in his hand. It would not matter to his happiness, of course. He would pocket the ring, return her to her family, and find a different cover for his movement in society. Their brief engagement would be a bit of tittle-tattle for a few days before another scandal displaced theirs.

Abruptly, she turned to him, her eyes flashing. “Your aunt would make a fine elephant keeper. She appears well versed in the techniques of confinement and deprivation, and she would not hesitate to shoot you if you got out of line.”

“So I’m an elephant?” he said.

“Hardly, but you must have towered over your aunt even at fourteen. She probably mistook that height of yours for power.”

His jaw tightened. “What did my aunt say to you?”

She grinned at him, a defiant look in her eyes. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

Then she dropped her bare hand with the ring and let it dangle over the side of the carriage for all to see.

Even Lynley knew she was behaving outrageously. Older ladies in passing carriages stiffened in outrage, while younger ladies gawked. One young woman in a close-fitting gold jacket that emphasized the striking dimensions of her chest gave Emily a particularly hard look.

“So you’re keeping the ring?” he asked.

She nodded. “Lynley, do you own a hair shirt by any chance?”

“My tailor does not supply them.”