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“Lucy’s seat on a horse—”

But the advertisement was interrupted. “I am quite certain that Mr. Darby has no interest in my equestrian skills, dear aunt,” the heiress said, throwing Darby a rather feverish smile. She had pointed little shiny teeth. “I understand that you have, most lamentably, become the guardian of your wee sisters. How adorable they must be! You must, simply must, introduce them to me. I do adore children.”

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“I would be enchanted to do so,” Darby said. A pleasant vision of Anabel vomiting down the front of Miss Aiken’s peach satin and chewing on her half wreath of roses popped into his mind.

“I think you’ll find that my niece has some wonderful advice regarding your young sisters,” Mrs. Barret-Ducrorq put in.

“I should be delighted to discuss them. I am certainly in need of advice. Would you care to adjourn to the salon and allow me to bring you some refreshments, Miss Aiken?”

It was clear before they progressed more than ten steps into the salon that this particular heiress was ready to trade her assets on the open marketplace. She fluttered her sandy eyelashes in a way that indicated her physical and material goods were his for the asking.

Darby knew he had to marry. Everyone said so. He said so. How could he possibly raise two small girls without female guidance? He cast a glance at Miss Aiken and was met by a burning look of admiration.

There were no open tables in the salon. His aunt looked up with a smile, and would clearly have welcomed him at her table, but he perversely made his way back to Lady Henrietta, who had been joined by two middle-aged ladies chattering like a pair of nutcrackers. Presumably they were talking of the church bazaar.

Lucy Aiken, thankfully, did not seem adverse to joining Lady Henrietta. She dropped into a chair and joined the conversation about the bazaar. Darby headed gloomily to the other side of the room to collect some food. He gathered up two plates. Lady Henrietta had nothing in front of her but a glass of wine, and she needed fattening up. Miss Aiken greeted his return with glittering eyes that reminded him of an exulting fox spying a succulent pullet. Lady Henrietta accepted his plate of partridge with a surprised, “Thank you!” and one of those smiles of hers, and 68 Eloisa

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returned to a lively discussion of the advisability of running an apple-bobbing stand at the bazaar.

Darby listened for a while, and then decided to find out more about his possible wife. After all, if he was going to spend the rest of his life with the chit, he needed to know what she did when not giggling. “How does one amuse oneself in the country, Miss Aiken?”

She fluttered her fan so violently that a strand of Henrietta’s hair rose in the air and fell against her cheek. It was a delicious color, like honey warmed in the sun.

“Just—just with everything, Mr. Darby! I truly am a cheerful type of soul, at least that’s what all my friends say!

Why, I am perfectly happy sitting about in the conservatory plucking petals off roses—the wilted ones, you understand.”

“Salutary,” Darby murmured.

“But you, sir, what of you? I know, of course, that you are a London gentleman, and you do whatever it is”—she tittered madly—“that gentlemen do in London.”

Could she be suggesting some sort of lascivious activities?

Surely not.

“Do you box?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, I don’t,” Darby replied. “I’m afraid I never took to the art of pummeling my fellow creatures.”

“Oh.” She was visibly disappointed but rebounded quickly. “I have read about gentlemen boxing with Gentleman Jackson himself, but I expect you spend your time in an equally diverting fashion.”

“Not really,” he said dampeningly.

Just then Lady Henrietta’s two companions bustled off. Miss Aiken immediately turned to Henrietta and included her in their conversation. She did seem to have impeccable manners. In particular, she didn’t show an ounce of the jealous possessiveness that most young women would exhibit in the presence of someone as beautiful as Henrietta Maclellan.

“You must be very excited by your debut, Lucy,” Henrietta Fool for Love

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said. It was rather pleasing to note that he was not the only one affected by Henrietta’s smile. Miss Aiken instantly perked up and looked like a young girl at her birthday party.

“If you can imagine, Lady Henrietta, my presentation frock is all sewn with gems. And I’m to wear three white plumes. Imagine that: three.”