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spectacularly lacking, but had thrown doubt upon Mrs. Montford’s parenting skills. It was in moments such as these that Emeline felt that Mama truly did deserve to have an earl or marquis in her immediate family circle.
    “Yes, that is certainly true, Mrs. Harlow,” Elaine said. “I will, of course, follow my mother’s every word of wise counsel.”
    Emeline struggled to suppress a chuckle. Elaine Montford was also quite adept at the cordial insult. It was a most impressive and useful talent during the London Season.
    Mama clenched her jaw. Eleanor sparkled. Mrs. Culley frowned and looked most uncomfortable. Kit compressed his lips, something he always did whenever he was trying not to laugh.
    Emeline caught his eye, he would not do anything so convenient as bother to try and catch her eye, and they shared a moment of silent amusement. Then his mother broke into the moment, as usual, and said, “Christopher, do let’s get home and take our tea. I do so want to be at my best tonight for Lady Jordan.”
    “How lovely to know that we shall meet again so soon,” Eleanor said. “I do hope we may continue our conversation on Homer, or was it Moliere?”
    No one answered. No one dared.
    Emeline was caught up in Mama’s grip, Kit in his mother’s firm grasp, Miss Montford and Lady Eleanor lingering in the milliner’s, casually perusing ostrich feathers. If there was anyone who was capable of defying her chaperone, it was Lady Eleanor. The daughter of a marquis could get away with anything.
     
     
    “I think you are too young to marry.”
    Kit looked at his mother and continued to stir his tea.
    “Then why am I in Town for the Season?”
    “It was a mistaken idea of mine. I think hearing Mrs. Harlow speak so often about Emeline having her Season, the hopes she holds for Emeline to make a stellar match, put the thought in my mind.”
    “You seemed very certain.” Kit laid aside his spoon.
    His mother took a sip of her tea and sighed, looking out the front window onto the street. “Mrs. Harlow is so very certain of everything. It is difficult not to become caught up in her certainties.”
    Kit nodded. How true that was. Just look at Emeline, all set to marry whomever showed the slightest interest in her just because her mother had decided it was time for her to marry.
    “She is so very certain Emeline will marry this Season?” he asked. The thought was a cold knot in his throat.
    “Perhaps not marriage, but a betrothal, certainly. Mrs. Harlow has her heart set upon an earl, at the very least. For myself, I think she is over-reaching. Emeline is a nice looking girl, but nothing spectacular. As her dowry is not spectacular, I think she would do well to achieve a well-established gentleman of good family.”
    Such as he.
    No, not such as he.
    He was not interested in marrying Emeline Harlow. He had spent his childhood mucking about in streams with her. One did not marry a girl one had seen barelegged and muddy to her knees.
    “Now, Lady Eleanor Kirkland,” his mother continued between sips of tea, “with her connections, she should have a most spectacular Season. It is to her credit that she has taken Emeline and Miss Montford under her wing, so to speak. It will raise their visibility and yet do nothing to harm Lady Eleanor’s chances for a proper match.”
    “I did not get the impression that Lady Eleanor was determined to marry this Season.”
    His mother chuckled and set down her cup on the small mahogany table in front of them. “As I said, she deserves much credit.”
    “You are saying that she is determined to marry and that I, a young buck on the Town, am too stupid to recognize that?”
    “Kit, I never said you were stupid. Hardly that.”
    “Just too stupid to see when a woman is ready to marry.”
    “Kit, all women are ready to marry. Surely that is obvious.”
    Actually, he did not think that was obvious.
    “Are you eager to marry again, Mother?”
    “I was eager to marry and I married your