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of his many conveyances—the knocker sounded and Lady Streatham was ushered in. Elizabeth, Lady Streatham, cousin to Lord Mainwaring and the only relative he had not labeled a “dead bore,” had been a reigning belle in her day. A merry rather than beautiful face, vivacious nature, and abundant energy had won the hearts of scores of eligible young men. To everyone's surprise, given her fun-loving nature, she had chosen the quietest and shyest of them all, Lord Streatham, and retired happily to his country seat to raise a promising young family. In answer to her friends' protests against such a seemingly unequal match, she had maintained that for her to marry someone as lively as she was would be to court disaster. For sanity's sake she had chosen someone she could dominate. Her closest friends, seeing the warmth in her eyes whenever she was with her husband, recognized that, unlike most of her contemporaries, she had married for love to someone who could give her a constant supply of admiration, support, and emotional security. These same friends, while they missed her gaiety and humor, realized that these lovable traits now found an outlet with her four equally fun-loving and energetic boys. In fact, the joy she derived from being mother to a lively family far outweighed the gaiety of London. It had been years since she had spared a thought for all that she was missing, buried in the country until her youngest had begun to spend more time with his tutor than he did with her. Just as she realized with a slight shock that she was middle-aged and had not attended for years anything more formal than a country assembly, she had received Mainwaring's missive begging her to chaperone his niece. With some trepidation she had broached the subject to her husband. “I do think I ought to help him out, as I am the only female in the family with whom he is on speaking terms. Don't you agree, John?”
    Her husband looked at her fondly, marveling that in spite of her years and children she didn't look much older than she did when he married her. “Of course, my dear, it's time we used the London house ourselves. We all could do with a little town bronze. I have some affairs to attend to in the city.” He continued, with an understanding twinkle, “Elegant as you always are, I am sure you are years behind the London fashions. My riding boots are in tatters. Come to think of it, we could all stand to replenish our wardrobes as well.”
    Lady Streatham, knowing how much her husband loved the country and how difficult the social whirl was for someone of his shy nature, fully appreciated his sacrifice and the generous spirit which prompted it. Tears stung her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, John!”
    “There, there, my dear, no need to get in a pother about it,” said her husband, returning her embrace and smiling down into misty eyes. “I've selfishly kept you to the boys and myself all these years. It's time your friends enjoyed your company again.”
    “You're so good, my dear friend,” she replied. “But won't you dislike it excessively?” she questioned anxiously.
    “Not when I've got the gaiest member of the ton to watch out for me.” Her husband smiled. “Now, no more. It's settled,” he added, silencing her with a kiss that was unexpectedly passionate in such a reserved man. So it was that the entire Streatham household was removed without a great deal of fuss to their house in Bruton Street, not too far away from Mainwaring House. And Lady Streatham lost no time in becoming acquainted with her charge for the Season.
    She had already met Kilson, who allowed the faintest of smiles to cross his countenance as he opened the door to her. Pulling off delicately shaded lavender gloves, she greeted her protégée. “I see you're on your way out, and looking vastly charming too, if I may say so.”
    “Yes,” responded Kitty, highly gratified by such notice, “I've just received word that Lady Frances has