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pasted a false smile on her face. “Indeed, I’m sure they will want to know all about Mr. Hensley’s return.”
    His expression fell immediately. “Oh, well, yes, but I meant—” He leaned in slightly, prodding her with his eyes to interpret his meaning.
    “You mean, yourself?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting as though surprised by the idea. “But Mr. Hensley is so recently returned. One of our own, you know, with the refinement of Oxford and travel to renew our interest.”
    She smiled at Mathew, who was not hiding his surprise at her boldness as well as she would have liked him too. She widened her eyes expectantly, trying to signal that it was his turn to speak. He interpreted the look correctly, repaired his expression, and rose to his feet.
    “It seems Miss Davidson has all manner of gossip to share. Let us not keep her from it, Strapshire, and instead see if you can best me at cards.”
    Lord Strapshire stood to accept the challenge. He lifted his chin as though to give the appearance of looking down on the shorter Mathew. “I can most certainly best you at cards, Hensley.”
    “Do you think so?” Mathew said and turned toward the room. “Then let’s get on with it.” He paused and looked back at Bianca. “A pleasant evening to you, Miss Davidson.”
    “Yes,” Lord Strapshire echoed before Bianca could answer. He stepped toward her and put his hand out, but she clasped hers tightly in her lap and gave him an innocent look. He had already kissed her hand once after all; he did not need, nor did he deserve, a second round. “A most pleasant evening to you, Miss Davidson. I shall be lost without you until we again have the chance to gaze into one another’s eyes.” She made no move to take his outstretched hand, nor did she respond to his silly compliment.
    After a few more seconds, he awkwardly lowered his hand to his side, gave her a slight bow, and turned to follow Mathew. Just before they disappeared, Mathew looked toward her and caught her eye.
    “Thank you,” she mouthed to him.
    He smiled, nodded once, and disappeared into the card room.

    The next morning, Bianca descended the stairs to find a dozen large bouquets of flowers in the foyer. Two servants were discussing what to do with them as Bianca approached.
    “What is this?” she asked, looking at the blooms. They were glorious—all shades of pinks and reds and purples. Some flowers she did not think were even available in this part of the country. Where had they come from?
    “Flowers for you, miss,” said one of the maids.
    Sherman, the butler, nodded. “Came just a bit ago. Your mother is out, and it’s Mrs. Gilmore’s morning off. We are unsure where to put them.”
    “For me?” Bianca said, walking toward them. The fragrance was lovely and heady at the same time. “Who are they from?” She’d no sooner said it than she knew exactly who they were from and her initial thrill was snuffed out.
    “Lord Strapshire,” the maid said just as Bianca had known she would. “His man brung ’em up.” She turned to look at the various pots and vases and clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Are they not ever so lovely?”
    “Yes,” Bianca said, though her jaw felt tight. She thought of the simple posy she’d received from Mathew the day before. She had not thought Lord Strapshire had noticed, but it seemed he had. Or Mama had told him of Mathew’s gesture. This was his attempt to best Mathew and impress her, but it had the exact opposite effect and showed how little he knew her. It was not extravagance and gluttony that impressed Bianca, but rather sincerity, kindness, and poise.
    “Please put one bouquet in each room, where appropriate,” she said, though she was half a mind to have them thrown to the pigs. She was not wasteful, however, and they were lovely if she did not think too hard on who had sent them.
    She continued toward the breakfast room, her chest tight with concerns about how Mama would interpret this