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Hugh left Queen Square feeling he had handled the moment awkwardly. From being rather delightfully flustered and charming, Nell had reverted completely to the reserved manner she’d attributed to herself. He walked rapidly up to the Circus and, gaining admittance to his sister’s home, learned that she was not in. “And Mr. Holmsly?” he asked, forgetting his sister’s grievance.
    “Mr. Holmsly is out of town for a few days, Sir Hugh. Did you wish to leave a message for my mistress?”
    “No, thank you. I believe I’m dining here tonight. Just tell Mrs. Holmsly that I called.”
    When he found himself once again standing on the pavement, Sir Hugh experienced an unfamiliar restlessness. He did not consider himself a spoilt fellow, though he certainly indulged himself as any young man of fashion did. Pursuing a course of pleasure was almost a requirement for one of his situation, and Sir Hugh enjoyed riding, driving, and gaming as much as the next man.
    Because of his expectations from his godmother, he had never seriously concerned himself with the potential danger of his current difficulties. His father, a bluff and hearty man, had been given to excessive gambling, and he was not a consistent winner at the tables. In fact, Sir Ralph had left Fallings encumbered to a degree which had alarmed Hugh when he learned, only on his father’s death, where matters stood. But he had been comforted by the knowledge that with good management and a reasonable amount of care, nothing financially disastrous was likely to happen.
    Perhaps all along it had been the knowledge that in time there would be Miss Longstreet’s property to help restore the family’s fortunes, which had bolstered Sir Hugh’s confidence. Because now, when for the first time he felt less than sure of that eventual inheritance, he found himself taking another look at his situation—and finding it worrisome. 
    “What ho, old man!” a voice called to him, interrupting his cogitations. “Look like you’ve lost your last friend. Nothing amiss with Mrs. Holmsly, I trust.”
    Sir Hugh quickly replaced his frown with a convivial smile. “Nothing whatsoever, Hopkins. In fact, I believe she is in rare form, though she wasn’t at home just now.”
    “Never knew anyone like Emily,” his friend confessed, giving his walking stick a flamboyant twirl. “Gad, I wish she hadn’t been snapped up so quickly. Might have had a try for her myself.”
    Sir Hugh regarded Hopkins with undisguised suspicion. “Since when have you gotten into the petticoat line?”
    “Well, I’m not, in the ordinary way of things, but your sister makes a man reconsider.”
    “Consider yourself lucky,” Sir Hugh muttered. “She’d have led you a merry dance.”
    “I dare say.” Hopkins grinned at the baronet. “But that’s a deal more interesting than finding oneself leg-shackled to some prissy miss who wants to spend the rest of her life keeping house in the country!”
    “Truly a fate worse than death,” agreed Sir Hugh. “Where are you headed, Hopkins?”
    “Thought I’d take a look at Parton’s new pair. Did you hear he won them from Lord Westwick?”
    Sir Hugh’s brows rose. “When did this happen?”
    “Night before last. Some deep play at one of those cozy gaming houses in George Street. You’ve probably been there—a Mrs. Borman’s.”
    The baronet shook his head. “Not that I recall. Westwick seems to have lost his rudder since his wife died. He’s only just out of mourning, isn’t he?”
    “Not something I keep track of,” Hopkins admitted. “But, now you mention it, he has been behaving oddly. Thought it was just his age.”
    “He can’t be much above sixty.”
    “I should live so long! Probably too old to be handling those grays, anyway.”
    Sir Hugh shook his head in disagreement. “He’s as spry as you are, my friend, at twice your age. I watched him guide that pair through a very sticky set of circumstances not two months ago. Very clever and