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an earl for a son-in-law dancing in her eyes.
    It fell upon her, Lucy realized, to revive the dragging conversation. Unfortunately she could hardly blurt out her curiosity about Lady Westcott’s poor.grandson.
    She was saved when the dowager countess sailed back into the conversation. “Have you had a season, Miss Drysdale? I do not seem to recall your presentation at court.”
    “Mine was not a particularly notable presence in town that year. It was 1819, just before the old king died.”
    “Ah, yes. I was not in town that year.”
    “Well, you did not miss much, unless, of course, you are not too friendly with Lady Nullingham. That was the year of her, shall we say, comeuppance.”
    Lucy’s mother gasped, and again Hortense began to fan herself. To mention Lady Nullingham’s very public fall from grace was not a subject for polite conversation, especially in mixed company. Lucy meant to shock Lady Westcott, or at least to gauge her reaction.
    She was not terribly surprised by the glint of humor in the old matron’s eyes. “I’ve heard many a recounting of that tale, every one of them more than amusing. Yet still I regret not bearing witness to it myself.” Abruptly she stood. “I would stroll in the garden a while, Miss Drysdale. Come, give an old woman the benefit of your vigor.” So saying, she held out her arm.
    Though taken aback, Lucy hastened to accommodate her. When the others rose, however, Lady Westcott waved them back into their seats.
    “Do not bother yourselves to accompany us. I would have a little talk with Miss Drysdale. That is all. Gladys, send for fresh tea. I will want another cup—hotter this time—upon my return.”
    Then without apology to anyone, the old woman turned and, with Lucy at her side, marched sturdily for the door.
    Lucy had hoped for a diversion and it seemed she’d got-ten it. Where it might lead, she could not foresee, but for now she planned to enjoy every minute of it.

Three
     
    A ntonia was getting desperate. She had to be to even contemplate such an outrageous proposal to Miss Lucy Drysdale. She’d only just met the girl!
    But she was not a girl; she was a woman. She was an attractive young woman possessed of a lively intellect as well as a sharp wit and a sharp tongue. Though that was not much to go on, Antonia nonetheless was convinced Ivan would like her. More than that, she was convinced that were he to meet her, he would pursue her.
    Not that he didn’t appear to be pursuing every other young woman he met. But she knew Ivan would not be landed by some innocent schoolroom miss who melted every time he turned his brooding gaze upon her. These past two months he’d become the catch of the season. The mothers coveted his title, the fathers coveted his fortune, and the girls … It seemed that the girls coveted everything about him. More tears had been shed and girlish friendships shattered over the so-called Gypsy earl than over any other bachelor since four years ago when Hal Driscoll, heir to the Earl of Lamonte, had finally been wed to that silly Meredith Cavanaugh.
    But for all her grandson’s intense participation in the social rounds now that the season was in full swing, Antonia sensed that something was not right. He was not sincere in his attentions to the young women. He was not really looking among them for a wife; he was merely toying with them.
    Or rather, he was toying with her . She let out a muttered imprecation.
    “Are you all right?” her companion asked.
    Antonia forced her frown away. “Of course I’m all right. Find a bench where we may sit a while.” While I reason out the best way to approach you with my proposal.
    Once they were settled on a weathered garden bench, Antonia fiddled with the crystal head of her cane. Miss Drysdale stared at her expectantly. Not surprisingly, it was the younger woman who spoke first.
    “Are you down to visit the Fordhams for very long?”
    “A short visit, I’m afraid. A week only,” Antonia