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partake. His Grace ignored her friends when they crossed to his group and contrived to crowd nearby. It gave Harmony a certain sour pleasure that their fluttering and preening was for nothing, especially since they pretended to despise him.
    Harmony drifted away from the milling guests to a quieter corner of the garden. She had enjoyed her glimpse of the duke, but she would not crowd about him with the other girls. Instead, she sat on a bench near a clump of flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. She wished she could turn her head and stare at him without inviting mockery. She wished to stare at him all the time, but she couldn’t, which annoyed her. He had looked so earthy and capable in his hunting coat and trousers as he sauntered about the clearing, his shotgun slung over his arm.
    Oh, he really had looked so dashing . She decided she would allow herself one more peek. Only one, and a short one at that. She turned to find him in the center of a crowd, talking to his friends as the footmen bore off the gentlemen’s guns for cleaning and storage. Her short peek turned into an extended stare. She could see the ladies giggle behind their hands as his regard passed over them. Silly hens. She was glad now she had left them. She would rather hide here and—
    “Ah, if it isn’t the lovely Miss Barrett, fellows.” A strident voice interrupted her solitude as a group of young fops descended on her. She recognized the one who addressed her as Lord Sheffield. She hadn’t made the acquaintance of the others. They smiled at her but they didn’t look like real smiles. She drew herself up, instantly on guard.
    “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How was your hunting?”
    “It was fine hunting. The Duke of Courtland snared a rare grouse, or so I heard.”
    “Eh, Sheffield, was it a Red Grouse?” one of the young men called.
    “No, sir. It was a Blonde Grouse.”
    Harmony lifted her chin, turning her face away. “If you are making a joke, it is not particularly funny.”
    “Aww, Miss Barrett, we won’t tell him you were hiding over here staring til your eyes popped out. Don’t pout now. It’s a lovely day.”
    “Not as lovely as you,” one of them cried in a mocking voice. Lord Sheffield elbowed him and turned back to her.
    “Don’t be cross, miss. Me and my friends were just saying how majestic you looked sitting over here among the flowers. Like some pretty picture in a museum. I bet the duke likes you a lot. He asked you to dance, after all.”
    Harmony picked at a tiny snag in the fabric of her gown. “I do not care if he likes me or not.”
    “Don’t you?” Lord Sheffield shifted and looked back at his friends. “You’d be a perfect match, you and that one.” A couple of the young men burst into laughter and reeled away. Harmony stood and began to walk farther from the garden, leaving them to their stupidity, but Lord Sheffield and a few stragglers dogged her heels.
    “Do you think he’ll ask you to dance again?” Lord Sheffield’s mouth curved in a grin she very much wished to slap off his face.
    “I should think not,” Harmony replied shortly.
    “You ought to ask him. He seems so lonely without you.”
    Harmony seethed with irritation. Why could he not leave her in peace? No matter where she walked, he followed, and when she paused to face him he stared openly at her bodice, the nasty rat. She tugged up at it a little, and then he laughed, and she decided she had tolerated quite enough. She drew back her hand to give him a sound box across the ear—but then her fist was trapped in a firm grasp. She turned and locked eyes with the Duke of Courtland.
    His gaze left her to settle on Lord Sheffield. “It is not at all the thing to pester a lady.”
    A low chuckle issued from one of Sheffield’s friends. The duke silenced it with a cool stare.
    That accomplished, he turned back to her. She’d forgotten how large he was up close. Intimidating. She took in his stern, chiseled face, his dark hair and the eyes