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Flora—enough . From this moment on he would entertain no more thoughts of her. He had more pleasant things to think about.
    Richard interrupted his thoughts. "Lady Rensley mentioned they're having an at-home tomorrow afternoon."
    "Are you suggesting we call?"
    "Of course, old boy. Want to come along? I fancy I'd like to see the beautiful Lady Flora again."
    "You mean, throw her another crumb?"
    "You needn't be sarcastic," Richard answered congenially. "You should come. I know you detest the very thought of matchmaking, but perhaps the sister? A bit on the plump side, I suppose, and rather plain, but, still, her dowry is quite attractive."
    Sidney's first impulse was to give Richard a polite but firm no. But he caught himself as an image of Flora's face filled his head. What would it hurt to see her one more time? Just once, then never again. Besides, if he got to know her better, he might find some major flaw that would surely cure him of this irrational obsession.
    "I'll come along, Richard, if you insist," Sidney answered with scant enthusiasm. With any luck, he would find Lady Flora prone to silly gossip, or perhaps she talked too much, or was a braggart, or at the very least, slurped her tea.
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    F lora loved the comfortable home her family leased each summer. Sitting atop a gently rolling hill, the rambling old house afforded a fine view of green fields surrounded by a forest of trees. In addition, one could find a magnificent view of the sea from both the terrace and the low French windows of the drawing room. On an ordinary day, Flora was eager to arise the moment she awoke. She would dress and go downstairs where, on days warm enough, the family would take breakfast on the terrace, enjoying the always breath-taking view.
    Not this morning, though. Instead of springing from her bed, Flora snuggled deeper into her covers and thought of last night and Lord Dashwood. How crushed she had been when he hadn't danced with her . How overjoyed when he claimed the final dance. "I saved the best until last," he'd said, thus sending a vast wave of relief coursing through her. Was she falling in love? She had been attracted to one man or another from time to time, but no man had caused the feelings Lord Dashwood had stirred within her last night.
    Amy, still in her nightgown, entered and perched herself on the side of Flora's bed. "Wasn't it lovely last night?" she asked, her gray eyes clear and bright. "Now, tell the truth—are you interested in Lord Dashwood? I saw you looking at him all evening."
    Flora returned a noncommittal "Hmm." Amy might be naive, but she didn't miss much.
    "And then I saw he danced the last dance with you," Amy babbled on, "and he was looking at you as if he was most interested." She clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh, how exciting! He is such a catch. What did he say? Did he—?"
    "He is absolutely mad for me and begged me to marry him. We are eloping to Gretna Greene tonight."
    Amy looked startled, then giggled. "Oh, you are not . Just the same, wouldn't it be lovely if you married Lord Dashwood?"
    "That's not likely to occur . Since I shan't be attending the Season this year, I doubt I'll see him after we return home."
    Amy looked thoughtful. "Then perhaps you should reconsider."
    "About another Season? You know when I make my mind, I mean it."
    "Must you always be so stubborn?" Amy sighed, then brightened. "At least you'll see Lord Dashwood when he attends our at-home this afternoon."
    Despite herself, Flora felt her heart give a little leap. Offhandedly she remarked, "Oh, yes. I do