"Well, my lord."

He turned to see Francesca, head tilted, regarding him with a smile.

"If we're to go driving in the park, I'd better go and change."

A pity-she looked delectable as she was, the scooped neckline of her day gown drawing his eyes, the soft material, clinging to her curves, drawing his senses. But she'd be too cold in his curricle. Catching her hand, he carried it to his lips. "I'll order the carriage. Fifteen minutes, in the hall."

She left him with a laugh and one of her glorious smiles.

It was the fashionable hour, and the Avenue was packed with carriages of every description. The larger, more staid broughams and landaus were pulled up along the verge, while the smaller, racier curricles and phaetons tacked along between. Speed was not of the essence-no one was in any rush; the whole purpose of the exercise was to see and be seen.

"There's so many here!" From her perch on the box seat, Francesca looked around. "I'd thought at this time of year, the town would be half-empty."

"This is half-empty." Gyles divided his attention between the carriage in front and the occupants of the carriages beside them. "During the Season, the lawns are half-covered, and there're more horsemen about. What you're seeing is primarily the elite of the ton, those who have business, usually politics, that brings them up for the autumn session."

Francesca surveyed the ranks. "So these are the ladies I most need to get to know."

Gyles's brows rose, but he inclined his head.

Then he slowed his horses, drawing the curricle closer to a carriage on the verge. Francesca looked, then beamed. "Honoria!"

"Francesca! How delightful!" Honoria looked at Gyles and, still smiling, nodded. "My lord. I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you here."

Gyles's answering smile was chilly. Francesca raised her brows fleetingly at Honoria-the swift look she received in reply clearly stated: I'll explain later.

Honoria gestured to the three other ladies sharing the barouche. "Allow me to introduce you to Devil's aunt, Lady Louise Cynster, and her daughters, Amanda and Amelia."

Francesca exchanged greetings, smiling as she recognized the thoughts behind the girls' wide eyes. Each was the epitome of a fair English beauty, with golden ringlets, cornflower blue eyes, and delicate, milky complexions. "You're twins?"

"Yes." Amanda's gaze was still skating over her.

Amelia sighed. "You're most amazingly lovely, Lady Francesca."

Francesca smiled. "You're very lovely yourselves."

A thought popped into her head; her eyes widened, and she smothered a laugh. "Oh-excuse me!" She shot a wicked glance at Honoria and Louise. "It just occurred to me that if we made an entrance, all three together-Amelia on one side, me in the middle and Amanda on my other side, it would look quite extraordinary."

The contrast between their fairness and her exotic coloring was marked.

Louise grinned. The twins looked intrigued.

Honoria laughed. "It would cause a sensation."

Gyles caught Honoria's eye and glared.

Honoria's smile deepened; she turned to Francesca. "We must have you around for dinner-Devil will want to meet you again, and we must introduce you to the others. For how long are you down?"

Gyles left Francesca to answer. Perched beside her on the curricle's box seat, he felt increasingly exposed. He was pleased when, all relevant details exchanged, they took their leave of Honoria and her companions and he could drive on.

They didn't get far.

"Chillingworth!"

He knew the voice. It took a moment to locate the turban, perched above a pair of obsidian eyes that were the terror of the ton. Lady Osbaldestone beckoned imperiously. Seated beside her in her old brougham, watching with a too-knowing smile, was the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives.

Gyles swallowed his curse-Francesca would only wonder, and he had no choice anyway. Angling the curricle into the verge, he drew up beside the brougham.

Lady Osbaldestone smiled widely, leaned over and introduced herself. "I knew your parents, my dear-visited with them in Italy-you were only three at the time." She sat back and nodded benignly, her black eyes gleaming with deep satisfaction. "I was exceedingly pleased to hear of your marriage."

Gyles knew the comment was directed at him.

Francesca smiled. "Thank you."

"And I, my dear, must also add my congratulations." The Dowager, her pale green eyes warm, took Francesca's hand. "And yes," she said, smiling in response to the question dawning in Francesca's face, "you have met my son and he spoke highly of you and, of course, Honoria told me all."

"I'm delighted to meet you, Your Grace."

"And you will be seeing more of us, my dear, I have no doubt, so we will not keep you and Chillingworth any longer. It will soon grow chilly, and I'm sure your husband will want to whisk you away."

The twinkle in her eyes was not lost on Gyles, but retaliation was out of the question-it was far too dangerous. Both he and Francesca bowed; he escaped as fast as he dared.

"Are they-how is it described? Grandes dames?"

"The grandest. Do not be fooled. They wield considerable power despite their age."

"They're rather formidable, but I liked them. Don't you?"

Gyles snorted and drove on.

"Gyles! Yoo-faw!"

Gyles slowed his horses. "Mama?" Both he and Francesca searched, then he saw Henni waving from a carriage farther up the line. "Good Lord." He drove up and reined in. "What on earth are you doing here?"

His mother opened her eyes at him. "You're not the only ones who might fancy a bolt to the capital." She released Francesca's hand. "And of course, Henni and I wanted to be here to support Francesca. It's a good opportunity to get to know the major hostess without the distraction of the Season."

"We've already met Honoria and Lady Louise Cynster, and the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives and Lady Osbaldestone," Francesca said.

"A very good start." Henni nodded determinedly. "Tomorrow we'll take you up with us, and we'll visit a few more."

Gyles hid a frown.

"But where are you staying?" Francesca asked.

"Walpole House," Lady Elizabeth answered. "It's just around the corner in North Audley Street, so we're close."

Gyles let his horses prance. "Mama-my horses. It's getting cold..."

"Oh, indeed you must get on, but no matter-we'll see you tonight at the Stanleys.'"