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drawing room. She looked a bit younger than her one and twenty years—and she looked prettier than she had that day in his bedchamber as her widened eyes perused his nakedness. How in the blazes had the girl not been snatched up before now? She was in possession of gentle beauty, as soft as the buttery colour of her hair. Pale periwinkle eyes, a perfectly formed nose, and sweet pink lips combined to produce a most agreeable face. Were all the young men in London fools?
    He knew nothing about women’s fashions, but he thought her muslin morning dress would be considered fashionable. It would do little to keep her warm in a chill. Its sleeves terminated well above her elbows, and its neck scooped just low enough to display the slight swell of her delectable breasts. Her bearing was as graceful as a swan’s, her figure completely without flaw.
    Standing, he moved to her and bowed. “I am bereft of words to describe your loveliness today, Lady Elizabeth.”
    She held out her hand, and he brought it to his lips for a mock kiss. “Your grace is too kind.”
    “I am many things, but too kind has never been used to describe me.”
    “I beg to differ. With all you must deal with after a five-year absence, I am shocked you remembered my little scheme.”
    “Your scheme is not insignificant. It's one of the most important things I’ve been considering.” He crooked his arm, offering it to her. “Shall we carry on to Trent Square?”
    She tucked her arm within his, and they moved to the entry corridor. “I’ll fetch my pelisse and bonnet.”
    A moment later—after she donned her blue pelisse—she and he were climbing into his awaiting carriage. “It’s good that you put on the pelisse. It doesn’t feel like spring at all today.”
    She settled on the seat across from him. “It was a bitterly cold winter, and I fear it’s being followed by an unseasonably cool spring. I wonder if that means we will miss summer altogether.”
    “It’s happened before.”
    They both peered at the gray skies and the congested streets filled with carts of potatoes, loads of hay, and hackneys hurriedly weaving in and out of the other conveyances. Because of all the vehicles clogging the streets, it took them almost an hour to reach Trent Square. A bird could have been there in less than ten minutes. As much as he liked walking, he was enough of a gentleman not to expect his companion to slog along in this mist. Ladies objected to exposing their hair to such treatment.
    When the coach pulled to a stop in front of Number 7 Trent Square, he gave the place a long look. He wasn’t sure he had ever before seen the narrow, five-story terrace house. It was constructed of a red brick that had been popular a century earlier.
    Once the coachman let down the step and Elizabeth and Aldridge alighted from the conveyance, Aldridge peered around the square. His was the only vehicle in sight. Which was to be expected in this non-aristocratic neighborhood. Keeping horses and carriages was beyond the means of most of those in the middle classes.
    At first he and she just stood on the pavement looking up at the house, assessing its condition. “I daresay it could use fresh paint,” he finally said. The white paint framing the casements was flaking in spots.
    “I think it has a very solid look.” She began to move toward the three steps that led to the front door. “How does it look on the inside?”
    He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never before seen the house.”
    She stopped and looked up at him. The tip of her head came just past his shoulder. How could this lovely, petite creature be the sister of tall, homely, sensible Lydia? “Do not tell me this is the first time you’ve ever looked at the house!”
    He shrugged again. “Then I won’t tell you.”
    “It is almost incomprehensible to me that one has so much property one doesn’t have time to examine every last acre.”
    “You forget I’ve been away. And I succeeded just a year