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anyway.
    Today she'd escaped Sir Gerald's advances, but would she be as fortunate the next time? She could think of no one to turn to for help.
    Mallory was still shaken from the encounter. She had to tell someone what had happened, so she went in search of Cousin Phoebe.
    Mallory was so distraught that she didn't notice the carriage in the driveway. The sun was waning, and candles flickered in the entryway as Mallory rushed into the house. Seeing warm light spilling into the hallway from the formal sitting room, she ran in that direction.
    Bursting into the room, she blurted out, "Phoebe, Sir Gerald—"
    Phoebe was on her feet, immediately interrupting her. "No, Mallory, Sir Gerald isn't here. But you may greet Lady Dunmore."
    Mallory stared at Sir Gerald's wife with trepidation. "Lady Dunmore," she said, gathering her composure, "how delightful to see you."
    Sir Gerald's wife stared at Mallory, and there was comprehension as her eyes narrowed with anger.
    Phoebe had also understood the situation and spoke up quickly. "Mallory, go to your room immediately and change out of your riding habit. You've torn it again, and I don't know if we'll ever get the mud stains out." She turned to Lady Dunmore. "I have tried to make a lady out of Mallory, but she insists on spending most of her time on horseback. It's a thankless task to try to make a lady out of a girl who'd rather run wild."
    Lady Dunmore took in Mallory's disheveled appearance, her torn and muddy gown, her tangled hair. "It could be that she's up to more than riding. I'd look to her morals, Phoebe. When a girl has her kind of beauty and also has a wild streak in her, no woman's husband is safe."
    Mallory bit back an angry retort as her cousin ushered her out of the room. She wanted to shout at Lady Dunmore to look to her husband's behavior, but Phoebe silenced her with a glance and shoved her toward the stairs. "Go to your room," she told Mallory in a sharp voice. "Make yourself presentable before you come downstairs again."
    Mallory slowly climbed the stairs, feeling dejected. She would get no help from Cousin Phoebe. Most probably she'd get a dressing down and be blamed for the whole incident.
    After she stripped her gown off, she stood before the mirror assessing herself. Was she beautiful? Everyone seemed to think so. But beauty was only a curse to someone who didn't have the protection of a father.

Chapter 4
    Lady Dunmore took a sip of tea before she spoke to Phoebe. "You should be more strict with that one. Mallory has become the talk of the village with her wild and undisciplined ways. No decent man would ever offer her marriage."
    Phoebe sat down, her anger smoldering close to the surface. "You should look to your own house before you try to clean mine, Winifred. As for Mallory, no one is of a sweeter nature. Her wild ways, as you call them, are nothing more than the behavior of a lonely young woman who has to fill her days riding horses when she should be attending balls and having fun."
    "She's too pretty for her own good," Lady Dunmore said pettishly. "Nothing good comes from a young woman who attracts men the way she does."
    "Perhaps the fault lies with the man, and not with Mallory."
    The woman's gray eyes snapped with indignation. "What do you mean by that, Phoebe Byrd?"
    "I mean that your husband chases everyone in skirts. Don't deny it. But if he's harmed Mallory, I'll not let it pass. You'd do better to keep him closer to home."
    Lady Durimore came to her feet. "You're a fine one to talk. No man has looked at you in years, if they ever did. You're just jealous because I have a husband and you don't."
    "Winifred, I much prefer my life to marriage to a philandering husband like Sir Gerald."
    Winifred gathered her shawl, glaring all the while at her hostess. "I'll never step one foot in this house again, Phoebe Byrd. This is what happens when one befriends a person beneath one's station."
    Suddenly Phoebe's eyes became sympathetic. "I pity you, Winifred,