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me.”
    “Never mind, Sophie,” he had said. “We will take you in. My coat is going to need a good brushing after it dries.”
    She had laughed again and felt perfectly safe despite the physical discomfort and the very real dangers posed by traveling at speed through oozing mud and of knowing that French troops were somewhere in the vicinity. Kenneth and Eden had been close by too. Kenneth had rescued her horse and was leading it beside his own.
    Sophia opened her eyes and reached for her cup and saucer. She was parched and there was nothing more soothing than tea.
    It had been undeniably good to see them again. How she would have rejoiced if there had not been yesterday. As it was, she was not at all sure she wished to see any of them again. Would she go to Rex’s evening of friends at Rawleigh House the evening after tomorrow? Meet them again? Talk with them? Meet Rex’s wife? And Kenneth’s?
    But she knew she would go. The prospect of such an evening was just too seductive to be denied. Besides, Eden was to take her up in his carriage and she did not know where he lived to send a note to tell him not to come.
    Of course she would go. In the meantime she must settle this other thing, this debt— and hope that it would be the end of the matter. It would not be, of course. It would continue for a number of years. It was impossible to guess just how many letters there had been, to be redeemed now one by one. Where was she to find the means ...
    “Sometimes, you know, Lass,” she told her collie, who had finished her meal and had come to lie at her feet, her chin resting on Sophia’s slippers, “I wish Walter were still alive so that I might have the pleasure of wringing his neck. Are you shocked?”
    If Lass was, she gave no indication.
    “I played my part to the very end,” Sophia continued, “though it was never easy, Lass.” She laughed softly. “The understatement of the decade. Was it too much to expect that Walter play his part? Apparently it was. Men know very little about self-denial. I am thankful you are female, though perhaps I will change my mind when you present me with a litter of puppies one of these days.”
    On the whole, she thought treacherously, she did not really wish Walter were still alive.
    “Thank heaven for your presence, Lass,” she said with rueful humor. “You add respectability to the deplorable habit of talking to oneself.”
     
    The next few days were busy ones for Nathaniel. He made what seemed to be endless calls, making his presence known in town, and—more important—the presence of his sister and his cousin, who would need invitations to all the more glittering parties and balls the Season would have to offer. He was only a baronet, after all, as Georgina had reminded him. News of his arrival would not spread as quickly of its own volition as it would have had he been of higher rank. Though it was true that he was a man of wealth and property, and both girls had more than competent dowries.
    Some of the calls were more to his liking than others—and not even necessary, perhaps, for the procuring of invitations. Though even at those houses he met other people, and every contact was important. He called upon his friends’ wives, for example, entirely from inclination. He called upon his elder sister the day of her arrival, taking Georgina and Lavinia with him, and nothing would do but he must escort them all to Bond Street without a moment’s delay. Lord Ketterly, his brother-in-law, had been wise enough to withdraw to his club and was not expected home before dinner. And then Lavinia demanded to be taken to Hookham’s Library to take out a subscription. And Georgina remembered that one of her bosom friends at home had told her to be sure to see the Oxford Street shops as soon as she arrived in town—yet two days had passed already. Would dear Nathaniel mind very much ...
    But invitations started to arrive, and appointments had been made with various modistes so