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had readily accepted them, and, though there were still a few raised eyebrows, most people had been surprisingly kind.
    Edward’s presence and the meetings with Simon’s more disreputable friends were, at present, the only blights on her horizon. And since an “at home” was not the kind of entertainment which would normally appeal to Edward or Simon’s other friends, she was fairly confident of enjoying the fifteen minutes allotted for this sort of entertainment without meeting any of them.
    The circle of gentlemen presently surrounding her was mainly comprised of her brother and his friends. Two of them, Thomas Sutcliff and William Jarrett, she knew rather well—they lived in the vicinity of Gatewood and had grown up with Marcus. Since her return to Cornwall, she had become very used to them constantly being underfoot. At twenty-two, Thomas was the eldest and the acknowledged leader of the trio. Since this was his third London Season, he considered himself quite the man about town. Andrew, a year younger than Thomas, was affable and too easygoing for his own good. They were basically nice young men, and Sophy did not worry about Marcus when he was in their company.
    Her gaze fell on another member of the group around her, and a faint ripple of unease dimmed her smile. Sir Alfred Caldwell was a new acquaintance of Marcus’s, and Sophy could not say that she cared for him. At thirty-five, with a decided air of dissipation about him, he was much older than Marcus and his friends, and she worried that Sir Alfred’s reasons for attaching himself to a green youth like her brother might not bode well for Marcus. Telling herself that she was being overly protective, she promptly put her concerns away. Thomas and William would keep Marcus from falling too deeply under Caldwell’s influence.
    There was one other member of the group surrounding Sophy, and she was not certain how she felt about him. One of Simon’s more respectable acquaintances, Richard, Lord Coleman, had come to call at the Grayson town house within days of their arrival in London. He had been extremely polite and had proved himself to be very helpful. It had been Lord Coleman who had advised Sophy where to hire the extra servants they needed; Lord Coleman who had gone with Marcus to his first sale at Tattersalls; Lord Coleman who arranged a delightful outing at Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre for the entire family; and it was Lord Coleman who frequently accompanied Sophy about town. He had never acted anything but polite and proper, yet Sophy could not forget that he had been part of Simon’s cortege and that he had been at the house the night Simon had died.
    She did not know why he had attached himself to her side, but she suspected that, like her first husband, he had reached an age where the production of an heir was beginning to prey upon his mind. He had not yet reached forty, but she guessed he was not very far from that age, and she rather thought that he was angling for a wife.
    A distinctly cynical smile curved her mouth. No doubt he thought that having been married to one roue she might be agreeable to marrying another. Her fingers unconsciously tightened around her gold-spangled fan. She would die before she married again! And certainly never to a man of Coleman’s stripe or one whose only use for her was that of broodmare! If she ever married again, and she sincerely doubted that she ever would, it would be for love alone.
    Suddenly, she felt that she was being watched. When they had first arrived in London, there had been a lot of stares and whispers when she entered a room, but most of that had died away by now. This felt different. She felt almost as if she were the object of some large predator’s assessment.
    Casually, she looked around, her gaze locking almost instantaneously with that of a tall, hard-faced gentleman standing in the small alcove to her left. A jolt of something she could not