"Excellent!" Chambers rubbed his hands together, then left to fetch an icicle.

Moments later, the groom returned, pulled an empty barrel forward, and placed a large icicle in the center. "Well, Lord Ravenscroft? How long do you think it will take?"

The young lord bent to squint at the icicle, wavering as he did so. Finally, he said in a triumphant voice, "I give it twenty-two minutes!"

"Twenty-two minutes 'tis. I think it will take less time m'self." Chambers took his seat, pausing to refill his own and Gregor's mugs as he did so.

Gregor took a sip. "Chambers, you've outdone yourself. This is the best toddy I've-"

"Shhh!" Ravenscroft said, staring intently at the barrel. A few drops of water dripped from the icicle. He whispered in a dramatic voice, "If you talk, you will warm the air, and it will melt fashter!"

"I am not going to be silent because of a silly wager."

"This is not shilly," Ravenscroft said with great dignity, ruining the whole effect when he fell off his barrel.

Chambers set down his mug and helped the lad back onto his seat. "Stop squirmin' about, or you' ll fall forward and hit the stove next time."

Ravenscroft held on to the sides of his seat and resumed his dogged stare at the icicle.

Gregor flicked a glance at Chambers. "You've not named your stakes. What do you win if you're right?"

"The lad's coat."

Ravenscroft stiffened, his gaze jerked from the icicle. "Thish coat?"

"You have another?"

"Not with me."

"Then that one'll do."

"But...what if I win?"

The groom scratched his chin. "I'll give you my rum toddy recipe."

Ravenscroft frowned. "That'sh not much of a win."

"You can lord it over all your friends when you make it fer them in your apartments," Chambers said with a faint grin. "They'll come from miles around to try it."

Ravenscroft's expression expanded into a blissful grin. "I will be in much demand."

"Everyone will want to be invited to your lodgings," Chambers a.s.sured him. The groom smiled then and looked at the heavy, wool, multicaped coat that adorned Ravenscroft's narrow shoulders.

"It's not going to fit you," Gregor said.

"I'm not goin' to wear it meself. With this weather, I should be able to sell it back to the lad at a handsome profit." The groom grinned. "That icicle ain't going to make it. It's almost half gone now."

Ravenscroft hunched a sulky shoulder at Gregor. "That's because you two started talking."

Gregor set aside his mug and held his hands toward the fire. "Ravenscroft, you'd do well never to bet against Chambers."

Ravenscroft eyed the groom with a suspicious glare. "Does he cheat?"

"Lud, no!" Gregor said, grinning. "But he never wagers unless it is a sure thing."

"There are no sure things in this world," Ravenscroft said loftily.

Chambers looked up at that. "Yes, there are, and a good hot toddy is one of them."

Ravenscroft looked wistfully at his mug. "That was heavenly. But other than a hot toddy, there is nothing else."

"Oh, I can think of other sure things," Chambers said. "The sun comes up every morning, don't it?"

"It's not up right now."

"Yes, it is. It's just hidden by clouds."

"Oh." Ravenscroft leaned on his knee and plopped his chin in his hand. "Perhaps."

"And then there's women," Chambers added in a thoughtful tone. "They never change."

Ravenscroft gave a short, bitter laugh. "Women are never predictable! Just look at Mish Venetia. Not two weeks ago, she was flirting madly with me-"

"Flirting?" Gregor said, looking up from where he'd been contemplating the tips of his boots. "Venetia doesn't flirt."

"She told me I wrote wonderful poetry, better than that Byron fellow."

"That's not flirting. Even I could write poetry better than that Byron fellow. More likely, Venetia took pity on you and made you one of her projects."

Ravenscroft's eyes widened. "Like Miss Platt!"

"Exactly. I'm not sure why Venetia has been pushing that little game, but she has a plan of some sort."

"I'll tell you what it is," Ravenscroft said miserably. "Venetia asked me to pay attention to that Long Meg because she thought it might strengthen Miss Platt's sense of self-worth and give her the courage to speak out for herself with Mrs. Bloom."

"So that is it. Miss Platt certainly seems to enjoy having you about."

"That's just it," Ravenscroft said gloomily. "This afternoon, Venetia warned me that Miss Higganbotham told Miss Platt that if a man looked at her a certain way, then he wanted to marry her."

"Looked?"

"Yes. Can you imagine how dreadful if at dinner you happened to catch a woman's eye, and she began to tell everyone in town that you fancied her, when you were just looking for the salt?" "A pity," Gregor said in a brutal tone. "But that's what you get for listening to one of Venetia's schemes."

"But...she asked me to do it. How could I tell her no?"

"Like this: 'No, I will not become involved in your mad schemes.' You might want to practice before you see her again."

"I couldn't tell her no!"

"How on earth did you find the sand to abduct her, then? You make no sense."

"I didn't think of it as an abduction; I thought she loved me!"

"Had you truly thought she was interested in you, you wouldn't have had to lie to get her in the carriage."

Ravenscroft considered this. "Do you think if I'd asked her to marry me in a more romantic way, she would have agreed? Perhaps if I'd given her flowers and gotten down on one knee? Women like that, you know. Especially women like Venetia."

"Balderc.o.c.k!"

Chambers paused in stirring the toddies and sent him a curious glance.

Gregor swallowed a knot of irritation. "I need more to drink."

Chambers refilled Gregor's cup at once.

The liquid burned Gregor's mouth, but the harshness of it crystallized his thoughts. "You are foolish if you believe Venetia is affected by romantic drivel. She is not like other women. She never has been."

"She is different, I'll grant you. But that doesn't mean she doesn't like the niceties. Women are very susceptible to such things as flowers and poems and-"

"Not every woman sets such a ridiculous store by such things."

"Yes, they do," Ravenscroft insisted. "Ask Chambers."

Gregor turned to his groom to find the man nodding.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but the lad has a point. Women find such things of vast importance-far more than you'd think."

Gregor scowled. "Some women. But not Venetia."

Ravenscroft tilted his head to one side, holding on to the barrel as if afraid it might tilt with him.

"Why wouldn't she like those things if other women like them? What makes her so different?"

"Many things," Gregor said. "You don't know Venetia the way I do."

In the back of Gregor's mind, a little voice whispered that he didn't know Venetia as well as he'd thought, either. Her reaction that morning was evidence.

His chest grew unaccountably heavy at the thought, and he finished off the rest of his toddy in an effort to wash away the bitter aftertaste.

But there was a d.a.m.nably knowing light in Ravenscroft's eyes. What if...what if Ravenscroft was right? What if Venetia did like such drivel as poems and flowers? Could he have misjudged her so much?

It was unthinkable.

Chambers scratched his nose. "I suppose 'tis possible that Miss Oglivie is a mite different from other women. She's a bruising rider and I've never seen her fall into a crying spell or seem upset the way other women do. Although her mother-" Chambers shuddered.

"Exactly," Gregor said. "Venetia has seen the price of such excesses and is immune to them." He lifted the poker and used it to open the woodstove door, then tossed a thick hunk of wood into the fire.

He turned to find Ravenscroft staring at him, outrage in every line of his face. "What do you think you're doing?" the young lord demanded in a tight voice.

"I added wood to the fire. It was dying."

"You are making it hotter." He turned to Chambers. "This is unfair. I demand a new wager! He just made it hotter in here!"

Chambers added some cloves to the toddy pot, where it gently simmered. "Aye. He did. And a good thing, too, fer I was growin' cold."

"But the icicle will melt faster now!"

"Perhaps."

"Then I demand a new wager!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"When Lord MacLean came in, he had to open the door, and that cooled it down some. So it makes things even if he warms it up a bit."

"Oh." Ravenscroft squinted as if trying to visualize this. "I see what you mean." He caught Gregor' s gaze and said, "I suppose I am not mad at you after all. Well, except for what you said about Venetia."

"All I said was that she was different."

"I used to believe that, too, but now..." Ravenscroft frowned. "Lately, it has begun to dawn on me that perhaps she only seems different because she doesn't know she's not."

Gregor stared at Ravenscroft. "What in the h.e.l.l does that mean?"

The younger lord flushed. "It means that she, like every other woman, wishes to be swept off her feet. She just doesn't realize it yet."

"Where do you come up with such nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense! No woman is immune to a man who would bring her flowers, whisper compliments in her ear, and tell her she is lovely."

Chambers rubbed his chin. "You know, my lord, the lad has something there."

Gregor didn't know which irritated him more, that his own groom was naysaying him or that Ravenscroft thought he knew Venetia better than he did. How to get Ravenscroft to see the error of his thinking?

Gregor's gaze fell on the barrel where the icicle lay melting, and a rumbling chuckle burst from him. "Ravenscroft, I will wager you a hundred pounds that Venetia is immune to such frippery as gifts and flowers."

Ravenscroft sat up straight. "Did you say a hundred pounds?"

"Yes."

"Careful there," Chambers murmured. "The lad cannot say nay to a wager."

Gregor ignored him. "Well? Will you take the wager?"

Ravenscroft nodded. "I will! Only...where will you get flowers and poetry and such?"

That was a problem. "I might not be able to find flowers, but I can find a gift for her."