"There you are," Violet greeted. "Robert said he thought he had seen you come in here. Are you working on your correspondence?"

Correspondence? What correspondence? Eliza thought wildly, realizing how thoroughly the naughty little green book had wiped her memory clean, eradicating all thoughts of the letter she had come into the drawing room to compose.

In as casual a manner as she could evoke, she shifted around on her seat. "Hmm, yes, though I h-haven't gotten much done yet."

She hoped Violet didn't come near enough to notice that she hadn't gotten anything done yet.

"Georgianna ate her fill then dozed straight off," Violet continued as she moved farther into the room. "And the boys actually settled down without a fuss. I guess all that play with their favorite aunt must have worn them out." She sent Eliza a warm smile. "So I thought I would join you in here while you work on your letter. Go ahead and don't mind me. I brought a book, so I shall be perfectly content over here in my chair near the window."

At Violet's mention of books, one of the bawdy images from Albanino's Postures quick-flashed into her mind. Fresh blood sluiced into her cheeks, replenishing the heat and color in her skin.

Violet's pale brows crinkled. "Are you all right? You look flushed."

"I'm fine. Just a tad warm. The...seasons are changing and this dress...I ought to have worn one of my lighter gowns."

"Maybe you are coming down with something. Here, let me see."

Eliza sprang to her feet, but before she could elude her friend, Violet was already setting outstretched fingers upon Eliza's skin to check for fever. "Your cheeks are warm but your forehead feels cool enough. Even so, perhaps I ought to have Agnes make you an herbal tea. With the start of the Season so near, it would be dreadful if you came down ill."

"I am not coming down ill and I don't need an herbal tea. But my thanks, all the same."

"Well, if you are sure-"

"I am well, truly. You needn't be such a mother."

Violet shot her a startled look, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "If I am behaving like a mother, it is only because I am a mother. You'll see how it feels when it happens to you."

"If it happens to me," Eliza said on a wistful note.

"Of course it will happen to you." Violet slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave a quick, comforting squeeze. "I realize your past Seasons have been disappointing-goodness, my past Seasons were disappointing-but this one will be different. You are doing splendidly at your lessons and your progress with Kit is everything I had hoped and more. Even Lady Cloverly..." Violet paused, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes in mockery of the woman, "remarked upon your talent at the pianoforte."

Eliza burst out laughing at Violet's imitation of Christabel Morgan's haughty ways.

"If you can win a nod of approval from her, you can win over anyone."

Eliza exchanged a warm, conspiratorial grin with Violet, remembering exactly why it was they were such good friends. For a brief second she considered telling Violet about the book in the drawer. It stood to reason she didn't have to admit she had looked inside, only that she had found it. But the moment she opened her mouth, Violet would know. Better, she decided, to say nothing. Some things were quite simply best left unsaid, even among friends.

"There's that flush again," Violet remarked. "Are you quite certain you are well? Agnes won't mind making her special tea. You know how she loves to fuss."

Eliza wanted to refuse, but maybe a cup of tea might not be such a bad idea, after all. She was still a bit overset. "Yes, all right."

With a satisfied nod, Violet crossed to call for her maid.

It was only then that Eliza noticed the ink stopper still clutched inside her palm, faintly sticky with perspiration. Giving it a surreptitious polish on her sleeve, she placed it back atop the inkwell.

"It is early yet, not quite three, so we shouldn't encounter too many people," Kit said two afternoons later as he and Eliza walked their horses along Hyde Park's Rotten Row. "The throngs don't descend for another hour and a half at least, so you should have no cause to feel overwhelmed."

"Speak for yourself," she murmured under her breath.

"I heard that," he said, a laugh in his voice. "You will do fine, Eliza. Just remember to stop when you see someone with whom you ought to speak, say a few polite phrases, make an inquiry or two, then ride on. No need to devote more than five minutes to any one individual or group."

Good, she mused, since at the moment she did not know if she could recall more than five minutes' worth of conversational topics despite all Kit's lessons.

She would much rather have come riding this morning as usual, but last night Kit had announced his plan for them to take an afternoon ride in order to "test out" her new skills. If they arrived early, he explained, she would have far fewer people to face. That way she could get a taste of the park experience without enduring the Fashionable Hour at its zenith.

Still, there were plenty of people already gathered-carriages and riders and couples, many strolling together arm in arm as they traversed the grounds.

Not that this was her first outing to Hyde Park during the Fashionable Hour. In years past, she had come on occasion with her aunt. But their few outings had been in her aunt's hired carriage. Silent and respectful, she had sat uncomplaining while Aunt Doris paused to talk with her own friends, middle-aged women and men of an older generation who exchanged nods and a brief greeting with Eliza before turning away to talk to her aunt until it was time to move on.

So today's excursion would indeed be a kind of first. Her first without her aunt and the carriage and her first since her weeks of study with Kit. Now she had only to prove herself.

If she could.

Her muscles tightened at the thought, her mount, Andromeda, shifting restlessly beneath her, sensing Eliza's unease. She wished she were riding her usual horse, Cassiopeia, but the sweet little mare had come down with colic a couple days ago. The head groom had dosed her round the clock until the crisis passed. Although she was now on the mend, she needed to remain in her stall for a few more days.

So Kit had chosen another horse for Eliza to ride, a smooth-gaited chestnut mare with a temperate nature. A younger horse, Andromeda tended to be slightly more playful, but with Eliza's improved riding skills she wasn't having any difficulty controlling her, especially since she and Kit were constrained to move at a pace no faster than an easy walk.

"Here comes Lady Shipple, Lady Eelsworth and Lord Turtlesford, and no sniggering at any of their names," Kit murmured low. "Although truth be told, Turtlesford has always reminded me a little of a garden tortoise. It's those protruding eyes of his."

"You are outrageous!" Eliza exclaimed on a laugh, as she and Kit drew their horses to a stop.

"Ah, Turtlesford. Ladies. How do you do this afternoon?" Kit declared, flashing a broad smile. "You are, of course, acquainted with Miss Hammond."

From inside an open-air carriage, the group turned their collective sights upon Eliza. Three pairs of eyes narrowed in momentary puzzlement as if trying to place her among their peers then abruptly widened in astonished recognition.

"Miss Hammond, well, of course, what a pleasure," Lady Shipple said, recovering first. "I did not realize you were in Town."

Until a few seconds ago, you probably didn't remember I existed, Eliza thought.

"Yes," Eliza said. "I have been residing with the Duke and Duchess of Raeburn this winter and spring."

"Ah, yes, since your aunt passed on to her reward." Lady Eelsworth inclined her dark head, a few touches of gray showing along the edges of her temples. "Very sad, always difficult to lose a relation, but such is the nature of things." She paused, sweeping an arched look over Eliza. "I must say you are looking remarkably well, better than I have ever seen you. Your aunt's death obviously agrees."

The woman smiled slyly.

For a long moment, Eliza simply stared. What a rude witch. The old Eliza would have stayed silent and lowered her eyes, wishing the whole incident away. But the new Eliza decided a reply was most decidedly in order.

Eliza met the other woman's gaze. "It is not her death that agrees but rather her money, is that not what you mean to say?"

This time it was Lady Eelsworth who stared. "Well, I-"

"It was very good of my aunt to leave me her fortune," Eliza continued. "And you are correct, my lady, her money has made my life far more comfortable. It bought me this riding habit. What do you think of the color and cut?"

Lady Eelsworth had the grace to flush. "I think it a most becoming gown."

"Most becoming indeed," Lord Turtlesford stated with cheerful enthusiasm. "I'd say it was money well spent."

Eliza turned her head and smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

"Why, I hardly recognized you at first, you've turned so dashing. If this is the result, then I say spend and spend some more."

Eliza laughed. "And so I shall, my lord. So I shall."

The five of them chatted for another minute or two before saying their farewells. She and Kit each urged their horses forward.

"I was about to step in to protect you from that nasty cat but I see I had no need." Kit tossed her a grin. "I've rarely witnessed a nicer set-down. You'll be giving me lessons soon."

She shook her head. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm still trembling from the encounter. I can't believe I said that to her."

"Neither can she. Word will soon get round that you have come out of your shell and are no longer to be meddled with or ignored. I predict a far different Season for you, my little wren, than any you have known before." He looked ahead of them on the path. "Ah, here comes a new group. Be kind and promise not to hurt them too badly."

But there were no verbal mishaps or confrontations with that group or the next one or the one after that. To her profound amazement, Eliza handled herself with gracious aplomb at each encounter, incrementally gaining confidence and poise in both her responses and her behavior. It seemed that all of her hours of drilling with Kit, all his tips and tricks and techniques had become so firmly lodged in her brain that they rolled off her tongue the way drops of rain fell from the sky during a storm.

She was quivering with astonished delight by the time Kit decided they should turn toward home.

"Lady Dolby was very kind," she said as they walked their horses toward the entrance gates. "She said she would send around cards for her party next week."

"Hmm, so I heard. You shall likely receive a great many invitations soon, far too many to accept."

"I shall leave it up to you and Violet to decide which entertainments to attend. I-"

A loud shout came from behind them. Turning her head, she saw curricle bearing down, racing far too fast for the park lanes as people hurried to get out of its way. Andromeda shied and danced to the side, letting out a whinny of fear.

Eliza held steady and fought to direct the mare out of harm's way. She caught a glimpse of the driver, seeing his vivid yellow-and-green-striped coat and the shock of coal black hair on his youthful head, his face appearing scarcely older than that of a child. Then she didn't have time to see more, as he drew abreast of her, flicking his long coach whip with an audible crack.

But the whip missed its mark, its vicious tip connecting with Andromeda's hindquarters. The mare released a cry of pain and reared, slashing her front hooves through the air and tossing her head so fractiously that she jerked the reins out of Eliza's hands.

Somehow Eliza kept her seat, but without the reins she could do nothing to control the mare. Terrified, the horse came down onto all fours and shot forward into a gallop. Relying on instinct, Eliza leaned low and dug her fingers into the mare's thick mane, hanging on for dear life as she prayed she didn't crash to the ground. In her ears came the thunder of her beating heart, a sound so loud she could hear nothing else. Across the greens the horse raced, veering wildly around trees and groups of startled people. The lost reins dangled like writhing serpents, frightening Andromeda even more, keeping her running when she might otherwise have stopped.

The scent of fear and horse sweat was sharp in Eliza's nose as she clung with all her might, her own perspiration dampening her hands, turning them perilously slick. But she dared not shift so much as an inch, or she risked toppling off.

Suddenly a male arm came into her line of vision, reaching out to take hold of the bridle. From the corner of her eye she could see a polished Hessian boot in its stirrup and the flashing of his mount's hooves pounding into the turf next to her horse.

Kit, she thought in relief, Kit has come to save me.

With a soothing, deep-throated command, he slowed the horses, urging Andromeda to break stride and slow. Moments later, the horses came to a walk then finally a complete and blessed stop.

Eliza began to tremble, full-body shakes she could not seem to control. She heard Kit dismount, sensed him hurry around to her side. And then she was in his arms as he set her carefully upon her feet.

Only, the man who held her wasn't Kit.

Her eyes widened as she gazed upward, way upward, into the face of male perfection-the blond, blue-eyed stranger quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen, as if Adonis himself had been brought to life.

She gasped, then gasped again-dizzy-as he showered her with the radiance of his smile.

Chapter Ten.

Kit heard the shout and looked behind him to see the carriage barreling recklessly along the lane toward him and Eliza, people and animals and vehicles jostling in a frantic scramble to get out of the way.

Damned jingle-brained fool, Kit cursed, catching a glimpse of the driver's boyish face. Must be doing it on a dare, he concluded in an instant, recognizing the unmistakable signs of a foolish young man egged on by his idiot friends-none of them considering the consequences or the fact that someone was bound to get hurt.

Then he forgot all about such thoughts as Eliza's mare spooked and did a fretful sideways dance across to the opposite side of the path. The carriage streaked between them, wheels rumbling, his view of Eliza obscured. The crack of a whip split the air, followed by Andromeda's scream as the animal reared. Kit watched in horror, time momentarily slowing, as the mare thrashed her head and yanked the reins from Eliza's grip. Then the horse was off, racing at a full gallop as Eliza clung to her mount's back.

A fist of terror punched into his stomach. Seconds later, he set Mars into motion, pushing the horse for speed. But try as his loyal steed might, the gelding's way was blocked by the chaos left in the wake of the boy's crazed stunt. Women were crying, men shouting, riders and drivers fighting to calm their own frightened animals.

Finally he broke free and set off after Eliza. Please God, don't let her fall, he thought. Don't let her be injured, or worse.

He caught sight of her and pushed Mars harder to catch up. Across the grounds he charged, intent upon reaching her and bringing her to safety. But it seemed another man had the same idea, a horse and rider appearing ahead, his mount's hooves churning up chunks of grass and mud as he pounded after Eliza's wayward mare. At full charge, the man drew abreast of them. In a display of impressive equestrian skill, he shifted sideways and grasped Andromeda's bridle, bringing the frightened horse to a stop.

Even from a distance, Kit could see how badly Eliza was shaking, her tremors a clear indication of her own fearful reaction to the wild ride.

The man dismounted and sprinted to Eliza's side, lifting her out of the saddle and onto solid ground. He kept his arms secure around her as she swayed and blinked upward as if in a daze.

Only then did Kit recognize the other man-Lord Lancelot Brevard-tall, blond and heroic as the fabled knight whose name he bore. It had been a frequent jest among the fellows at Oxford that Brevard ought to have been born the son of a baronet instead of a viscount, despite the lesser status, so he could have been known as Sir Lancelot in name as well as deed.

In Kit's first term at Oxford, Brevard had been in his last, already a legend among his peers and professors. An affirmed leader, Brevard took first in everything he did whether it be academic or athletic, his record a mile-long litany of awards and honors and accolades. He led a charmed life of perfection, or as near perfection as any human man could achieve. Brevard was one of those rare people who it seemed could do no wrong, and who did no wrong, as honorable as he was talented, as compassionate as he was competitive.

Brevard had personally proven the fact that spring term when Kit-eager to test his own worth and valor-challenged the older man to a swim race. A strong swimmer and confident of his abilities, Kit had arrived full of arrogant bravado and swagger, boasting he would prevail. In the end, his unfamiliarity with the river's cold, swift current and his opponent's unflagging stamina had been his undoing. He'd put in a formidable effort and nearly won, but "nearly" hadn't been good enough.

Instead of listening to his body's warnings as he ought, Kit had challenged Brevard to another race, which Brevard clearly had not wanted. But with honor at stake, they agreed. Strength flagging, Kit had pushed on long past his endurance and nearly drowned as a result of his stubborn, idiotic pride. It was Brevard who had saved his life. Brevard who afterward had refused to mock him as others in his position would surely have done, instead taking Kit under his wing and turning his young, would-be rival into a friend.

And that was the diabolical magic of Lancelot Brevard. No matter how much a fellow might wish to despise him, it simply could not be done. Man or woman, dog or cat, bird or beetle-everyone and everything liked Brevard.

And now, wouldn't you know, the bloody great hero has raced to the rescue and saved Eliza. Of course, Kit was glad she had come to no harm. Even so, a part of him didn't understand why Brevard couldn't have come on the scene just a minute or two later and let Kit do the rescuing. After all, Eliza was in his charge-his student and his responsibility.

Kit drew his gelding to a halt, vaulted to the ground. "Eliza, are you all right?" He hurried toward her.

She didn't turn her head, continuing to stare up at Brevard with a peculiar expression upon her face, her gray eyes slightly glazed.

Is she in shock?

After her experience, Kit wouldn't be surprised. He touched her arm. "Eliza, it's me, Kit. Are you all right? Are you injured? Say something, please."

Her lashes fluttered. "Kit?" Only then did she glance at him. "Kit. Oh, you are here."

"Yes, I'm here. Everything will be fine. You've taken quite a turn but you're safe now." He flicked a glance at the other man. "Hello, Brevard. Quite a save. My thanks as well as the lady's."

"Winter, well met. I expected we would tap elbows here in Town but not under such unusual circumstances. You are acquainted with the lady, I take it?"

"Eliza is a friend of the duchess and is staying with us at Raeburn House for the Season. She and I were enjoying the afternoon promenade when some young chucklehead decided to race his carriage up Rotten Row. Did you catch sight of the fuss?"

Brevard shook his head. "I was too far off but I heard it, screams and shouts enough to wake the dead. And then this lady suddenly appeared, her horse obviously out of control-so, of course, I had to help."