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delights of the Season he would be forced to forgo. That brought to mind the number of engagements that perforce must be canceled. Once his regrets were written, he handed them to his butler with instructions to send them out the following day.
    Within two hours he was on the road, his curricle racing from the city quite as though he fully expected to see Camilla Shelford behind him with an archbishop in tow.
    The greater distance he achieved, the more at ease he became, enjoying the lovely early summer scene as he passed green fields and patches of primroses and wild campion. Here was England at its best, fields sprouting, apple trees coming to blossom. The very air smelled of freedom.
    Rather than stay at the best inns as was customary for him, he settled on quiet country hostelries, clean and respectable, but not apt to be frequented by his cronies or anyone he knew. The food proved to be filling, and often the home brewed was most splendid.
    At Salisbury he felt sufficiently relaxed to spend some time prowling about the local sights, picking up a number of items he suspected might not be found in the village of Woodbury. Egads, the place was so small it was not even found in his copy of Patterson’s, and he had thought every spot in the country was listed therein. It was a good thing he had Mr. Small’s direction as a guide or he’d never have found the place.
    Ultimately, he felt the urge to move on to the south and would have set off immediately had he not bumped into an old friend and accepted an invitation to visit a race course not far from Salisbury. The Downs were famous for their racing courses, and this one promised to offer excellent diversion. Once Alexander explained his predicament, Giles Dodsworth was only too happy to offer shelter and quiet anonymity.
    “There is no one awaiting me; my time is my own.” It occurred to Alexander that he possibly ought to drop the housekeeper a line to warn her of his coming, but figured that a single gentleman ought not cause that much of a stir. Besides, he didn’t trust her not to let the surrounding gentry know of his coming, and he wanted to test the local waters on his own. He wanted no predatory females if he could avoid them. When the day inevitably came that he had to marry, he would select his wife.
    * * * *
    “What a glorious day this is,” Juliet cried in delight as she left the house to inspect the newly redone gardens. “Look, the wallflowers are doing well as are the aquilegia you brought me,” she exclaimed to Mr. Wyllard. “Soon there will be blooms from one side of my garden to the other. And I owe it all to you,” she concluded shyly with a demure glance at her companion. The sun gave a splendid glow to the garden as well as to Mr. Wyllard’s ruddy countenance—the result of many hours spent supervising the planting.
    In spite of his high color, he was a well-looking man, with darkish brown hair and thoughtful gray eyes. True, his hair receded a trifle and his face was a bit longish, but his excellent character more than made up for these slight defects. And character was important to Juliet. She desired steadfastness and decency in a man. Her stepbrother had revealed the other side of a man’s character far too well to please her, and she wanted none of it.
    However, Juliet was beginning to wonder if this masquerade was such a wonderful idea. She considered George Wyllard a very nice gentleman. He enjoyed music as did she, and his knowledge of gardening surpassed that of anyone she had ever met. Mrs. Ogleby had let it drop that he was tolerably well to grass, possessing an acceptable property and sound investments.
    Juliet had not intended to look for a husband while in concealment from her stepbrother. That had been the last thing on her mind when she fled Winterton Hall that chilly morning. What a pity if Juliet came to love Mr. Wyllard and was trapped in an arrangement from which it would be near impossible to extricate herself. Why