"Br.,~" I it, Metzger, not like that! " Lord Sea brooke rounded on his hapless valet, mining yet another neck cloth

"Here, I shall tie it myself." As he deftly knotted a fresh square of the snowy linen into a flawless Orientale, he glanced at the man at his side.

"I'm sorry, Metzger, it isn't your fault. I am in the devil's own temper tonight."

Metzget nodded silently. Such outbursts and apologies had become increasingly frequent since Miss Cherrystone had left, but his master's mood was more dangerous tonight than he had yet seen it. Doubtless it had to do with the fact that within the hour he would be meeting his fiancee for the first time. It was a pity, that, but none of Metzger's business, he well knew.

A short time later, Gavin stood at the top of the staircase leading into Lady Humphries's magnificent ballroom. Surveying the glittering throng before him, he wondered dispiritedly whether Miss Chesterton had yet arrived. He should have called on her earlier in the day, he knew, but had not been able to bring himself to do so. What possible reason could he give her for wishing now, at this late date, to dissolve their betrothal? Was he to say that he loved another, even though that other had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth? It sounded lame even to himself. Taking a deep breath, as he had often seen Cherry do in times of stress, he vowed to at least give Miss Chesterton a chance. It was by no means her fault that they were in this absurd situation.

Gavin had just begun to mingle with the crowd when he spotted Sir Thomas bowing over Lady Humphries's hand. With him at the head of the stairs stood a handsome lady who must be Miss Chesterton's companion, and a vision in white crowned with copper.

Miss Chesterton's eyes were demurely downcast as she made her way into the throng on her brother's arm, but her complexion appeared flawless and her hair fairly glowed above the whiteness of her shoulders. His bride-to-he was no antidote, that much was certain!

Still, Gavin had to force himself to step forward to greet the Chesterton party. No matter how lovely she might be, she was not Cherry. "I am most gratified to finally make your acquaintance,"

he said when Sir Thomas had performed the introductions. Even to his own ears the formal greeting sounded stiff almost to the point of rudeness.

Hastily, he attempted to soften it.

"Perhaps you would be so gracious as to grant me the first dance?"

"Certainly, my lord," she replied in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper. With a sinking heart, Gavin realized that Miss Chesterton must be extremely shy of him. What a contrast to Cherry's plucky outspokenness! And he felt no particular inclination to draw her out.

"Pray allow me to present you to my acquaintance," he said, offering her his arm. It would look deuced odd, he realized, if he were to abandon her the moment she arrived.

She placed delicate fingers on his arm and obediently accompanied him into the crowd.

Gavin duly introduced her to several of his friends, as well as to such exalted persons as a patroness of Almack's and two of the royal dukes. The Prince was not yet in attendance.

Sea brooke was surprised to discover that Miss Chesterton had already met some of those present; he would not have thought she had the gumption even to go out of the house on her own. Perhaps her companion had insisted upon it.

Though for the most part Gavin kept his gaze averted from the lovely creature at his side, an occasional glance was necessary as he made the introductions.

Each time he looked her way, however, she quickly averted her eyes. This was going to be more difficult than he had thought.

How could he possibly jilt such a shrinking violet without appearing the greatest brute in the realm? Even Cherry--especially Cherry I --would never forgive him, It was with relief that Gavin heard the orchestra begin playing a minuet. After the set he could reasonably leave Miss Chesterton on her own for a while. They took their places and moved through the dance. With some surprise, Gavin noticed that his partner's steps were flawless, and none of her apparent nervousness showed as she dipped and curtsied as the dance demanded.

How had she learned to dance so well immured in ~?

As the dance brought them back together, she flashed him a brief look.

Gavin started involuntartly at the emerald green of her eyes before she again shaded them with her long lashes. A sudden memory of Cherry a.s.sailed him, and he had to steel himself inwardly.

He had been imagining her likeness everywhere he looked for days. Now he was even attempting to find a resemblance in the unlikely person of Miss Chesterton! Absurd!

When the dance ended, he delivered her back to her chaperone and made his bows, promising to return for the supper dance before decamping.

Frederica watched him go with mingled regret and relief. This was going to be far harder than she had expected. How could she charm the man when she couldn't even look at him or speak clearly? But she dared not. She had not missed the sudden flicker in his expression when she had ~ccidentally allowed him to see her eyes. Had she held his gaze as the minuet actually called for, she would already be undone. She must not let him catch her looking at him again.

For, indeed with surrept.i.tious glances she had been drinking in the sight of him, so precious after these few days of separation. And she had been secretly appalled at the changes she could perceive. Somehow, in less than a week, he had lost his sparkle, his vitality, that zest for living that had always drawn her to him. He also appeared to have lost weight. Had he been ill, she wondered? Her senses sharpened by love, Frederica noticed what no one else would have: that Lord Sea brooke appeared far from happy.

As she danced a quadrille with Mr. Gershom, she puzzled over the realization.

She had known all along, of course, that Lord Sea brooke had been less than enthusiastic about his betrothal to her, but that hardly seemed cause enough to account for the dramatic difference in him tonight.

He had seemed resigned, if not content, when they last spoke of his forthcoming nuptials.

Tonight he almost looked liked a man whose heart had been broken.

From that thought, another occurred to her so suddenly that she almost missed her step. Could it be possible that he really had fallen in love with her as Miss Cherrystone--that her leaving had hurt him so badly? The idea filled her with guilt even as it gratified her. She could not wish on him the sort of pain she herself had been subject to at their parting, even though it might indicate that his feelings were all she had hoped. But what was she to do now?

How was she to know for certain? As the quadrille ended and a country dance began, she scarcely noticed the change of partners, so full was her mind with the dilemma before her.

"My dear, what a success you are!" exclaimed Miss Milliken more than two hours later, when Frederica had consented to sit out a dance with her brother so that he might procure some lemonade for her.

"Lady Humphries tells me that your card was full before the dancing had even begun."

"Yes, I suppose it was," said Frederica absently, scarcely noticing the distinguished looking gentleman at her companion's side.

"But Lord Sea brooke asked only for two dances. As we are betrothed, he could quite properly have requested three, or even more." She had been acutely aware of the earl--and his many partners-throughout the evening.

"Can you blame him, Frederica?" asked Miss Milliken gently.

"From what you tell me, this match was scarcely more to his taste than it was--originally--to your own."

Startled at her friend's outspokenness, Frederica glanced quickly at the stranger standing nearby.

"Oh, let me present to you Mr. Westlake," said Miss Milliken, with a slow smile that mused Frederica to sharpen her gaze.

"He and I met years ago, and have been renewing our acquaintance after a long hiatus."

"Yes, I well remember Charlotte when she made her debut back in '95,"

said Mr. Westlake, smiling at his Miss Milliken in a way that Frederica would almost have called besotted.

"She is the only female I have ever known who truly appreciates military history, a particular pa.s.sion of mine. Indeed, she was the brightest diamond of the Season that year, but disappeared before I, or any of my many rivals, could place her in the setting she deserved. I am delighted that she is come back to us at last." To Frederica's astonishment, Miss Milliken blushed at this recital.

"Your memory is quite obviously addled by time, Charles. I was nothing out of the ordinary, then or now." As Mr. Westlake began to protest, Sir Thomas arrived with lemonade, interrupting the fascinating exchange.

"Egad!" he exclaimed, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

"No doubt Lady Humphries is in alt because of the crush, but I'd as lief there were fewer people here. You'd best drink up, Freddie, for the set is nearly over." Frederica obeyed, suddenly recalling that the next dance, the one heralding supper, was promised to Lord Sea brooke.

Perhaps she should have asked for champagne, she thought belatedly. It might have given her courage.

Even as she chided herself for such faintheartedness, Lord Sea brooke materialized to bow over her hand. To her dismay, the orchestra struck up a waltz. The earl clasped her lightly, almost impersonally, and swept her into the dance. Involuntarily, Frederica glanced up at him, recalling the last time she had been in his arms. It had been so different then! There had been fire between them; now there was only this strained politeness. Surely there must be some way she could get through the shield he had raised against her!

"My brother tells me you fought on the Peninsula, my lord," she said coquettishly, fluttering her lashes in the manner she had seen more than one of his other parmers doing. She kept her voice light and breathless, quite unlike her normal tone.

"How very brave of you, to be sure!" As she had noticed before, his dancing was superb, not at all affected by his limp.

"Merely my patriotic duty, Miss Chesterton," he said coolly, looking over her head after only the briefest glance at her face.