Emily twisted the golden cord of her reticule as the carriage made its way at a sedate pace toward Portman Square. Her first foray into London Society had brought on an uncharacteristic bout of nerves. At least she could be confident about her appearance, as Lottie had done her job well.

"Oh, miss," Lottie had said as she surveyed the final product of her efforts, "you look just like a fairy princess."

She had beamed with satisfaction at her mistress, who was dressed in shimmering peach silk embroidered in gold. She had tugged at the square neckline, fluffed the melon sleeves, and straightened the hemline so many times that Emily had wanted to scream. But she knew the girl had been almost as nervous as she was herself. Emily smiled as she recalled the proud stance Lottie had taken when Emily had thanked her and complimented her on her work. After one final inspection and a flick of the sleeves, Lottie had smiled triumphantly and turned to leave. She had spun around, however, when she reached the door and glared at her mistress with a serious face.

"Now, miss," Lottie had said, wagging an imperious finger, "mind you be careful tonight. As pretty as you look, you're bound to attract admirers. But I know you ain't been out much, bein' employed and all, so you don't rightly know how the Quality go on here in town. I hear tell that London gentlemen—" she almost spat out the word—"can be too forward by half. You just stay close to her ladyship. She'll know who's nice and who ain't."

She had left the room and closed the door before Emily could comment on her impertinence. Emily smiled ruefully as she recalled Lottie's words. If she didn't know better, she would swear that the girl was in league with the dowager.

Emily glanced at her employer, who was seated next to her in the carriage. The older woman was obviously excited to be back among London's beau monde and had taken some pains with her own appearance. She was dressed in a satin gown of her favorite shade of lavender trimmed in silver lace. She wore an elaborate silver turban sporting three large purple plumes which scraped the ceiling of the carriage. The dowager looked over at Emily and smiled.

"I hope you will enjoy the evening," she said, patting Emily's hand. "You look very lovely tonight, my dear, but this will probably be such a sad crush that it will be fortunate if we are seen at all. But," she said with a grin, "it can hardly be more unpleasant than this afternoon's debacle." The purple plumes quivered as she began to chuckle.

Yes, Emily thought, tea with the Windhurst ladies had been embarrassing at best. Lady Windhurst had been every bit as encroaching and supercilious as the dowager had led Emily to believe. She had arrived at Bradleigh House along with her daughter and Lord Bradleigh a short time after the return of Lady Lavenham. She had marched boldly into the drawing room ahead of the engaged couple with an air of familiarity that had set Emily's teeth on edge. She had known at that moment that this was not going to go well.

Lady Windhurst had been dressed fashionably, but more youthfully than was suitable for her middle-aged girth, and she was adorned with more jewelry than was considered proper for daytime. She had fawned over the dowager and Lady Lavenham until both ladies were rigid with disdain. She had nodded curtly at Emily when introduced, raked her with a scathing glance from head to toe, and thereafter ignored her completely. This had suited Emily just fine, as she had taken an instant and irrational dislike to the woman.

Miss Windhurst had said all that was proper during the introductions, although she said little else. She had eyed her surroundings with more circumspection than her mother, who had openly scrutinized every corner of the room as she was led to a sofa near the tea table.

"I am so pleased to welcome you all to the bosom of our family," Lady Windhurst said in a syrupy voice to the group at large. She glanced at Augusta, who was seated on a smaller settee next to Lord Bradleigh. "La," she said, sighing, "such a handsome couple our darlings make. They will surely be the toast of the ton. We will be such a cozy group, I declare. Why, I'm sure when my Augusta is countess we will all practically be living in each other's pockets. I have no doubt that I will be spending so much time here that it will be like a second home for me in London." She eyed the room covetously.

Emily had listened in astonishment as Lady Windhurst exclaimed over the proportions of the room, the quality of the furnishings, the pleasing prospect of the gardens from the drawing room windows, the elegance of the Worcester tea service, and on and on. Lady Lavenham's mouth had been set in a tight line, and she was uncharacteristically quiet. Emily also noticed that the dowager's brows had not unfurled since the arrival of the Windhurst ladies. She knew her employer well enough to recognize that she was rigidly curbing her annoyance. Emily had prayed that the old woman would be able to maintain her cool.

"I simply adore your collection of Italian paintings, Bradleigh," Lady Windhurst said.

Emily had almost choked on her tea and noticed that Lady Lavenham's eyes were wide with astonishment. Had the earl actually given this woman leave to drop his tide?

"The Italians are so much more tasteful in our English decor than, say, French paintings, don't you agree? So large and dark and atmospheric and all. Most complimentary to your delightfully old-fashioned furniture," she said as she eyed a Chippendale arm chair. She turned to the dowager and laid a hand on her sleeve. "Bradleigh has surely told you of the extensive renovations we have made to our drawing room in Cavendish Square. All new furnishings. In the Egyptian style. Quite fashionable, don't you know."

"Yes," the dowager drawled between clenched teeth as she deftly extricated her arm from Lady Windhurst's touch. "I'm sure it is quite ... up to date."

"But, Mama," Augusta had interjected, "you must admit there is a certain elegance to this room. I quite like it."

"It is indeed charming, my dear," Lady Windhurst replied. "Are you responsible for this charming decor, Bradleigh?"

"I'm afraid the credit must go to my mother, Lady Windhurst," the earl replied in his most polite tone. Emily had never seen him appear so subdued.

"Well, then, I am sure my Augusta will make her own changes, just as your mother did. Isn't that so, my dear?"

"Of course," Augusta replied, her eyes roaming the room.

"I do admire the paintings, though," Lady Windhurst said. "Do tell me, Bradleigh, which of your paintings is the most prized? To me, they are all quite wonderful, of course, but surely there is one that you most treasure? That is most valuable?"

Emily had closed her eyes and stifled a groan at such an impertinent question. She looked up to see that the dowager had risen and walked across the room to stand next to a very small, very beautiful painting which Emily had noticed the previous evening. It depicted a group of ladies and gentlemen dressed in the style of the early part of the last century. The colors were jewel-like and the style very delicate and decidedly un-Italian.

"This," the dowager drawled, "is the greatest treasure in the house. It was given to my husband and me as a bridal gift from the Duc d'Orlèans. It is a Watteau." She locked eyes with Lady Windhurst. "French, don't you know."

Emily hid a smile behind her teacup. Lady Windhurst was momentarily flustered but recovered almost immediately to comment on the extraordinary selection of pastries and breads on the tea tray. Emily could not help but look over at Lord Bradleigh, who had caught her glance and flashed a crooked grin.

Emily felt some pity for Lord Bradleigh, who would have to deal with that vulgar creature as a mother-in-law. No wonder the dowager had been so upset at his betrothal! But then she recalled Miss Windhurst and realized that her mother would be a small price to pay in order to wed such a beauty. Exquisite was the only word Emily could think of to describe the lovely, aloof Augusta Windhurst. She had very dark hair, styled in fashionably short curls that framed her heart-shaped face and set off her alabaster skin. Her eyes were very pale blue, almost turquoise, and were accented by delicately arching brows. She was not quite as tall as Emily, but carried herself with such a regal air that she seemed much taller. She had spoken only once or twice during the entire visit and had not smiled even once.

Emily did not think that shyness was the cause of Augusta's reserve, as her cool blue eyes seemed very keen, almost calculating. She had all but ignored her mother's monologues while she intently observed the dowager and Lady Lavenham. She was even caught closely watching Emily herself once or twice. Only occasionally had her glance fallen upon her betrothed, Emily could not help but notice. She seemed to be judging the ladies' reaction to her mother. Emily suspected she was storing the information for later use in her behavior as the Countess Bradleigh. For no reason that Emily could articulate, she felt certain that Augusta Windhurst would have no qualms about cutting the connection with her own mother if it raised her distinction in the eyes of the ton.

Despite Augusta's beauty, Emily found it hard to believe that Lord Bradleigh was to marry such an iceberg. He was so warm and compassionate, and ... well... likable. Could he really be so superficial as to want this young girl for her beauty alone? To act as an ornament on his arm, to be paraded before the ton to increase his consequence? Emily wanted to dislike Lord Bradleigh for such shallowness, but found it difficult to temper her growing admiration for him. She scolded herself for being so hasty in her judgment of Miss Windhurst after only one meeting. Surely there were qualities other than her exquisite beauty that had attracted Lord Bradleigh. She was determined to uncover them, if only to convince herself that the girl was worthy of him.

Emily's attention was diverted from her reflections when she realized the carriage had come to an abrupt stop. They had apparently reached Portman Square, but the streets were jammed with traffic. She looked over at the dowager, who shrugged in resignation.

"You may as well make yourself comfortable, my dear," the dowager said as she settled herself more snugly against the plush velvet squabs. "It will surely be half an hour or more to best this throng."

Emily peeked out the window and saw an enormous house at the end of the block bathed in the light of dozens of torches. She realized that this was their destination and was momentarily incredulous that it should take them thirty minutes to travel a single block. And yet as they inched their way along the square, it was clear that the dowager had not exaggerated. Emily's inclination was to get out and walk the short distance, but she knew that such a thing was simply not done.

As the carriage finally made its way through the crush of vehicles, Emily took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It had been a very strange day, but she suspected that a few more surprises were in store this evening as she recalled the earl's promise to introduce her to some of his acquaintances. She had no doubt that the dowager would make sure that this promise was put into practice at once.

She was helped down from the carriage by a liveried footman and took the dowager's arm as they made their way to the crowded entrance of the impressive town house.

* * *

Robert noticed them at once. He had been doing the pretty with Lord and Lady Windhurst and Augusta, but couldn't keep his eyes from straying to the entrance. He hadn't even been aware that he had been watching for her until he saw her. But then he realized he had been most anxious to see how she would look tonight, dressed in her new finery for her first ton event. He was not disappointed as his eyes followed her as she and the dowager made their way toward their hostess. She looked beautiful. His attention was snapped back when he suddenly became aware that Lord Windhurst was addressing him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Robert said, "but the noise is so great that I missed what you said. Oh, but there is my grandmother. I must go pay my respects. If you will excuse me." He bowed to the Windhursts, turned to Augusta, and took her hand to his lips. "My dear," he said, as he took his leave, ignoring her petulant look. He really ought to spend more time with the girl, he thought as he elbowed his way through the crowd. But not just now.

He was forced to stop and acknowledge greetings and congratulations along the way. He tried all the while to keep his grandmother and Emily in sight, as they were fast disappearing into the crowd, and he feared he might lose them forever in such a crush.

"Bradleigh!" a familiar cheerful voice rose above the din. Robert turned to find a tall, fair-haired gentleman making his way toward him.

"Sedge! Well met," Robert said, clapping the gentleman on the back. Lord Colin Sedgewick was one of Robert's oldest friends. He also happened to be at the top of the list of eligible gentlemen Robert had considered for introductions to Emily, who by now, he realized, was completely lost in the crowd. He sighed and looked back at his friend.

"I haven't seen you since the great announcement appeared in the Gazette, old man," Lord Sedgewick said, grinning broadly.

Robert had often thought that Sedge had the most infectious grin he had ever seen. His eyes crinkled up into tiny slits, and he looked positively impish. It was nearly impossible not to grin in return.

"I almost choked on my morning coffee when I read it," Lord Sedgewick continued. "Put me off my feed for the entire day. Why didn't you tell me?"

"No time. Sedge," Robert replied. "I hared straightaway off to Bath to tell Grandmother before she heard it through the grapevine. Unfortunately I was too late. She had read the Gazette only moments before my arrival."

"Poor boy. How did she react?"

"She boxed my ears."

"Ha!" Lord Sedgewick shouted. "I always liked the old girl." His eyes narrowed as he caught someone in the crowd. "Well, speak of the devil."

Robert turned to see three purple plumes bobbing above the crowd and heading in his direction.

"Robert!" His grandmother's familiar drawl reached him before he actually saw her emerge from between two animated groups, her plumes striking one outraged gentleman in the eye. "I've been searching for you this age," she said, ignoring the irate gentieman. "What a crush! Ah, Sedgewick. How delightful to see you again." She cast a meaningful glance at Robert.

Her meaning was not lost on him.

"Lady Bradleigh," Lord Sedgewick said as he took the dowager's hand to his lips. "You are a vision, as always. Bath agrees with you, ma'am, though we miss you here in London. What brings you to town?"

"Robert's betrothal, of course," she replied. "I have come to organize an engagement ball." She tossed another significant look at Robert.

He knew his role and glanced quickly at Emily, who was standing slightly behind the dowager. She looked positively delicious, he thought, like peaches and honey. Although the room was very brightly lit with hundreds of candles, it was nevertheless a flickering sort of light which caused Emily's dress and hair and eyes to shimmer. He could hardly tear his eyes from her. Suddenly the image of her at her dressing table filled his mind, and he realized the very sight of her was having a physical effect on him. Good God, this was madness. He blinked his eyes in order to regain control and rearranged his face into a polite smile as he reached out a hand toward her.

"Lord Sedgewick," he said, drawing Emily forward, "may I introduce Miss Emily Townsend, my grandmother's friend and companion. Miss Townsend, this is my good friend Lord Sedgewick."

"Your servant, Miss Townsend," Lord Sedgewick said as he bowed over Emily's hand. Robert did not miss the appreciative gleam in Sedge's eyes before they crinkled up into a smile.

"I am pleased to meet you, my lord," Emily said.

She was no less susceptible to Sedgewick's smile than anyone else, Robert thought as he watched her face light up with a dazzling smile of her own. Sedge asked her a question, which Robert missed as the dowager tugged on his arm and led him slightly apart from the other two.

"Good work, my dear," she whispered. "Sedgewick will do nicely. Who else have you lined up?"

"No one," he said with some exasperation. "I hadn't actually 'lined up' Sedge. We just happened to bump into each other."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It was smoothly done. Who else have you seen tonight?"

"Before I met up with Sedge, I had been with the Windhursts and Augusta. I'm afraid I haven't had time yet to act as scout for your little campaign."

"Well, hop to it, my boy. I am counting on you." She glanced over at the other couple. "I suppose they have had sufficient time to become acquainted," she said as she returned to Emily's side.

"Well, Sedgewick," the dowager said, "I'm afraid you must excuse us. This is Emily's first visit to Town, and there are so many people I want her to meet. We must move along," she said, taking Emily's arm. "Shall we see you at the Rutland ball Thursday night?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Lord Sedgewick replied. He turned to Emily. "I hope I may be permitted a dance. Miss Townsend?"

"I would be honored, my lord," Emily replied.

When the two ladies had moved away, Robert turned to his friend and cocked a questioning brow.

"What a beauty!" Sedge exclaimed. "Where have you been hiding her?"

"In Bath," Robert said, frowning. "With Grandmother."

* * *

Emily stood near the refreshment table sipping a glass of champagne. She seldom indulged. In fact, having watched her father sink into dissipation after her mother's death, she had scorned spirits in all forms. But it was so warm, and she was so thirsty. Surely a single glass could not be considered objectionable. She felt the knots in her stomach begin to uncoil.

She could never have imagined such a gathering. Every inch of the staircases, reception rooms, anterooms, and corridors was packed with the cream of London Society. The human din was almost deafening, and Emily wondered why Lady Bessborough had even bothered to hire the musicians, who could not be heard at all. Beautifully dressed men and women stood shoulder to shoulder in a sea of swirling colors and flashing jewels. It was certainly not what Emily had expected of a "small rout." As for her plan to disappear into the background—well, there simply was no background. There was only a mass of teeming humanity as far as the eye could see. If she were not so exhilarated she would have to admit that such a gathering was not conducive to comfort or conversation, and therefore not very enjoyable. Perhaps she would consider such parties with more nonchalance as she spent more time in London. But for now, she was simply enjoying herself.

She had been so anxious about this evening, but she felt the tension melt away as she sipped more champagne. It hadn't really gone so badly thus far, and everyone had been surprisingly friendly and welcoming. Even the dowager's matchmaking efforts hadn't been too obvious or awkward. The several gendemen she had met this evening had all been quite unexceptionable. She had never been made to feel uncomfortable. She was grateful that the first gentleman to whom she had been introduced had been so open and friendly. Lord Sedgewick had certainly put her at ease. She smiled as she recalled that introduction and her initial trepidation.

She had just been presented to Lady Bessborough, who had been most effusive in her welcome to the dowager. But before Emily had a chance to say two words to their famous hostess, she had felt her arm gripped tightly.

"There's Robert!" the dowager had hissed as she nodded toward the other side of the room. She had proceeded to pull Emily along none too gently in his direction.

Oh, Lord, Emily had thought, now it begins. She had taken a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and followed her employer. When they had at last squeezed their way through the room and reached Lord Bradleigh, Emily had noticed that he was speaking with another gentleman—but her eyes were automatically drawn to the earl. He looked very elegant in his black evening clothes and snowy-white linen. She caught the glint of a discreet diamond pin nestled in the folds of his neckcloth. His hair was once again combed straight back from his forehead, giving him a more severe look that set him apart from many of the other gentlemen whose artfully styled and oiled curls owed nothing to nature. Not for the first time, her eyes traced with admiration the clean cut of his profile, the firm set of his chin, the even white teeth revealed as he smiled at his companion. Emily had thought that even amidst this assembly of London's finest, he was surely one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.

Suddenly he had caught her eye. For what seemed an eternity, his intense brown eyes had held hers with an expression she couldn't read. She had been so caught up in his gaze that it seemed for a time that they were the only two people in the room. Then he had blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced by a puzzled frown. Emily had felt herself blush and dropped her eyes in confusion. Heavens, how long had she been staring at him? What must he think of her? And why did it seem that no one else had sensed the awkwardness of the moment? When she looked up again. Lord Bradleigh, smiling somewhat stiffly, reached out for her and drew her forward, and she realized he was about to present her to the gentleman at his side.

All at once, this first of the scenes she had so been dreading seemed preferable to the suddenly discomfiting proximity of the earl. She had recollected herself in time to be introduced to Lord Sedgewick. He was a tall, somewhat lanky, pleasant-looking gentleman about the same age as the earl, she guessed.

"I am pleased to meet you, my lord," she had said as he bowed over her hand. When he looked up and smiled, Emily had been instantly captivated by one of the friendliest, most open countenances she had ever seen. She smiled in return.

"Are you enjoying the rout. Miss Townsend?" he had asked.

"Frankly, I find it somewhat overwhelming, my lord," she replied.

"What? This insignificant little gathering? Surely you jest." He grinned down at her.

"I'm afraid I do not, my lord," she replied, smiling more in response to his own smile than his teasing banter. "The assemblies in Bath were never so ... well... so..."

"So crowded?" he completed for her. "So stifling? So noisy? So, shall we say, fragrant of humanity?"

"As you say, my lord," Emily had replied, smiling in response to the impish twinkle in his eyes..

"Yes, it does take some getting used to," he said. "Did you come from Bath with Lady Bradleigh?"

"Yes," she'd replied. But before she could continue, the dowager was back and leading her away. She had been pleased, however, when Lord Sedgewick had asked for a dance at the ball she was to attend with the dowager on Thursday.

Really, she thought, as she recalled the meeting, that hadn't been so very difficult. Except for that strange moment with the earl. She wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened, but something about the way he had looked at her made her feel somehow uncomfortable. Just the thought of the intensity of his look caused her to feel suddenly warm all over. Nonsense. It was just the effects of the champagne. She put her empty glass on the tray of a passing footman.

Well, she thought, Lord Sedgewick seemed pleasant enough, and he had the most marvelous smile. In fact, she had felt surprisingly at ease with him. Moreover, his friendliness had given her the confidence to face with greater equanimity the subsequent introductions engineered that evening by the dowager and Lady Lavenham.

And there had been many. Not all of them, of course, eligible gentleman. The dowager was well known in Town and seemed to be acquainted with everyone. Lord, how was Emily to remember all their names? Despite the fact that she had managed better than she had expected this evening, it was nevertheless a relief to steal a quiet moment alone away from her employer's sometimes overbearing manner.

She felt someone touch her arm and turned to find the dowager with a yet another handsome gentleman in tow.

"My dear," she said, "allow me to introduce Mr. Giles Hamilton. The Honorable Mr. Hamilton, that is. Giles, this is Miss Emily Townsend."