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betrothed?"
    "Lord Liverpool had need of him," Lilith answered tightly. "Lord and Lady Enders were kind enough to invite my niece and me to join them this night."
    "Oh, yes. Rachel made me acquainted with your niece. Charming girl. Naturally, you may expect vouchers for Almack's. We dare not deny them," she said with a silvery laugh. "The gentlemen would be sure to break out in violence."
    "That is exceedingly kind of you." Lilith moved to let her pass, but before the widow could step through the door, Lady Jersey's gloved hand dropped lightly upon her arm.
    "Speaking of gentlemen," the countess said too sweetly,
    "I was not aware you were acquainted with Brandon."
    "Nor was I," Lilith said with perfect composure. As soon as she spoke, she experienced once more the odd prickling in her neck.
    "Not formally introduced, that is," came a low, resonant voice behind her. "May I suggest the oversight be corrected?"
    Lilith turned slightly. The green eyes were lazily contemplating her shoulders — or rather, the prim few inches to be seen of them.
    She threw him one frigid glance, then deliberately turned her back. Mercifully, Lord Enders was holding open the door to the opera box. As Lilith entered, she heard Sally say, "Why, Brandon, you rogue, I don't believe she wants to know you." The door closed, cutting off her ensiling tinkle of laughter.
    Apprised by her husband of the confrontation, Lady Enders congratulated Lilith. "You did right," she declared. "One can only hope the others will follow your example and shun him as he deserves."
    Cecily made no comment, and Lilith wondered whether the girl had heard a word. Though Cecily sat, her attention apparently fixed on the stage, a rapt expression glazed her eyes, and from time to time her glance stole across the hall.

    The object of this devoted study knew nothing of it. Lord Robert Downs was, as usual, devotedly studying the countenance of his mistress.
    As soon as Lord Brandon reentered the box, the mistress turned her amused attention to him.
    "I wonder if I can make a guess, milord, what drove you from us the instant the curtain fell," she teased.
    "There is no need to guess," he answered. "In twelve minutes, half the audience will know. In another twelve, the other half. By the end of the performance, the Watch will be announcing it."
    "Ah, he bowed so beautifully, did he not, Robin? Still, the lady will not smile. She will not even look his way."
    "Which lady is that, Julian?" Lord Robert asked. He was apparently the only person in the theatre who had not observed Society's latest sensation.
    "It does not signify. It is certainly not worth interrupting your conversation with your beautiful friend." The marquess dropped carelessly into his seat.
    "It is the widow, mon cher ," Elise confided. "I have the suspicion your cousin takes a fancy to Madame Davenant."
    "Madame who?"
    Elise touched a finger to Lord Robert's lips. The music had recommenced.

    Lord Brandon joined the couple for a late supper at the Piazza. As he'd predicted, word of the widow's snub had sped through the audience — thanks no doubt to the kind offices of Silence Jersey.
    "She cut you, Julian?" Robert asked, aghast. "But no one has ever done that. No one would dare. Who the devil does she think she is?"
    "She is the Widow Davenant," said his mistress. "Half the ladies are afraid of her, and all the gentlemen. She is a paragon. Everyone in the ton is naughty sometimes, no? But they are discreet, and so everyone knows, perhaps, yet they make believe they are all virtue. But Madame is all virtue. She has never stepped wrong, even the little step."
    "Gad, she sounds awful. I must say, Julian, when Elise pointed her out, you could have knocked me over with a feather. She's not at all in your style."
    Lord Brandon slowly turned his wineglass, apparently studying its colour with great care. "Thank you for calling that to my attention, Cousin," he said. "I was ill, you know. Evidently my vision suffered. My