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don’t think it should wait so long.”
    “What’s that? Think the coxcomb will lose his nerve?”
    “No, I just don’t think Iselle will be comfortable until she’s wed. You know how the countryside can gossip, and what with the house party still going on and all…”
    “Miss Irmagard is right, my lord,” Farrell said. “I wouldn’t wish Miss Snodgrass to be the subject of scandalbroth. With your permission, I shall take her to London, with Lady Rothingham along of course, and obtain a special license. We can be wed and return for the hunt ball to quiet any talk there might be.”
    “That’s a big sacrifice, my boy. I appreciate your doing this for my girl.”
    Farrell took a deep breath. “It’s the right thing to do, my lord.”
    The baron patted Sir Evan on the back. “Good man. I’ll have her meet you in the library in an hour. There’s a decanter in there, if you need the courage.”
    An hour later, after a visit from her father and a lecture from her mother, a trembling, white-faced Iselle dragged herself to the library.
    In the adjoining room, the breakfast parlor, Irma stood with her ear to the connecting door. That’s where the viscount found her, after changing his disordered apparel and having supper on a tray.
    “Your behavior needs explaining, young lady,” he began, only to be hushed again. He shrugged and put his own ear to the door.
    “Miss Snodgrass,” they heard, “your father has given me permission to pay my addresses. Would you do me the great honor—”
    Then they heard Iselle’s joyous shout: “It worked! It worked! Just like the Worm said it would! Oh, Evan!”
    Irma took Lord Wingate’s hand and led him out of the room, grinning.

5
    “It was a conspiracy! The whole thing was a brilliant conspiracy! And here I thought I merely had to avoid being alone with Miss Snodgrass to foil the plan to see us wed. What, did you think I was too fusty to take part in your scheme?”
    Irma blushed. “Not fusty at all, my lord. I think your reputation must be a hum. I saw you looking through that keyhole into the library!” They were back in the drawing room, ostensibly listening to Inessa at the pianoforte. Wingate had not taken Lady Bannister’s pointed suggestion that he turn the pages for Inessa, claiming to be much too unmusical. The Reverend Mr. Allbright, invited to make up the numbers for dinner, volunteered for the job so Wingate was free to take a seat in the far corner, next to Miss Irmagard. Glory was looking like a cat in the cream pot.
    “Well, I had to see the outcome of your plot, since I was dragooned into participating, or not participating as it were. I mean, what with having my clothing mangled, my leg battered, and my fingers nibbled on, I felt I deserved some reward.”
    Irma giggled, which his lordship felt was almost reward enough. “You were trying so hard to be noble!”
    “And you were acting like the most empty-headed skitterwit in creation. I congratulate you, Miss Glory. I only wish Wellington had your help planning strategy for the Peninsular campaign. The war would have been ended much sooner.”
    Irma studied her gloved hands in her lap. “Thank you for the compliment, and for not ruining Iselle’s chance at happiness. And, although I should have said so much sooner, thank you for not crying rope on me for that meeting on the hillside, especially after the awful things I said about you, Lord Wingate.”
    “My friends call me Winn.”
    “Oh, but I couldn’t—”
    “We are friends, though, aren’t we?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And as a friend, I demand to be considered a fellow conspirator in the next skirmish.”
    Irma flashed her dimples. “To save Nessie from your evil clutches?”
    He grimaced. “Exactly. Your father called on me while I was changing, to make sure my hopes weren’t dashed by losing Iselle and to reacquaint me with Miss Inessa’s beauty and goodness.”
    Pride and just a smidgen of envy colored Irma’s tones