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without a partner now, and that is not at all the thing at her own ball.”
    Arnold’s smirk as he bowed his acceptance suggested that the dandy was well aware of Sarah’s reluctance to spend any time with him. She knew that in pushing him away she only delayed the hour of reckoning, for Arnold was an avid gossip who would keep on until he had the truth of her presence in London without her “farmer-fiancé,” as he had designated Gregory at her coming-out ball last season. She could almost hear the limerick he would compose, ridiculing her. Doubtless it would sweep the
ton,
giving vast amusement to all.
    Still, she would put Arnold off as long as possible, she vowed. Avoiding the question in her father’s eyes, Sarah turned to Lady Cornwall. “Does Jennifer ride?” she asked.
    “She does indeed. It is one of her chief pleasures, and we have brought mounts with us for that very purpose.”
    “Will she ride with me tomorrow afternoon, then?”
    Deborah queried the duke with her eyes. He nodded his assent, but added, “I cannot accompany you tomorrow, Sarah. You will have to make do with one of the grooms.”
    “Perhaps I could accompany you?” Deborah was pleased to offer her chaperonage. Like Harwood, she was aware that Sarah was scheduling a ride when she might have been expected to remain at home to receive calls from those who had danced with her at the ball. And like Sarah, Lady Cornwall found very appealing the idea of being “not at home” the next day to callers such as Lord Morton.
    “I should like it above all things,” Sarah declared.
    “With your permission, Lady Cornwall, I will still send a groom. I do not like to think of the three of you riding in London unaccompanied.”
    “Thank you, Harwood. That would be most welcome.”
    To forestall another approach by Arnold Lanscombe, Sarah began a campaign to convince her father to leave the ball early. Sensing that he had pushed her far enough for this first outing, Harwood agreed; and was not surprised to learn that Deborah was also ready to leave. They went down the steps to their carriages together, again eliciting several stares and pointed, envious comments from some observers. None were more chagrined than Henry Fortesque, who had failed to gain an introduction to either heiress.
    ***
    “That’s impossible! Tell me again who they were?” Alexander slammed both hands on the table on hearing Henry’s news the next day as they broke their fast around noon.
    No less than Henry did his friend Lord Alexander Meade, youngest son of the Marquess of Hanley, need to marry an heiress, though for a different reason. “What is so useless as a third son?” Alexander had often moaned. A tiny estate, hardly worthy of the name, was his total expectation. If Alexander hoped to marry, he must marry well.
    Unlike Alexander, Henry had brought his status as a fortune hunter upon himself. He had gambled away his allowance and borrowed extensively upon his inheritance in the form of post-obit bonds. Be his unloved sire’s demise ever so timely, he would still be a pauper. Fortunately, this was a fact he had thus far managed to keep secret from everyone but his bondsmen, and even they were ignorant of each other, and hence of just how much more he owed than he could ever hope to repay.
    “I was told they were Jennifer Silverton, daughter of the previous Viscount Cornwall, and Lady Sarah, daughter of the Duke of Harwood. Why is that impossible?”
    “But is not Lady Sarah married? She was very definitely promised last year. It was my understanding that she would be wed to a young squire from her home county by now.”
    Henry frowned. “I was told that she was single and an heiress. Unfortunately, before I could find anyone to introduce me to either of them, they left.”
    “It just couldn’t be. I couldn’t be so fortunate.” Alexander strode up and down the small room, thrusting his hands through his thick blond curls, which required little such