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Miss Mowbray into his bed without George killing him afterwards. Had to make it seem her idea, not his.
    The children held out until after the first run of the day, but when the excitement wore off, they were ready to head back; the promise of lemonade and cakes a powerful inducement. Waving their fathers off, Gabriel turned back with the younger ones, leaving the young Lord Lovet to fully enjoy this foray into his father’s world. The boy would have a better time of it without his younger brother underfoot.
    As they ambled back towards the house the children searched about for stones for their slingshots, ran off in pursuit of butterflies and birds, chatted happily about their plans for the coming weeks. Circling past the lake they encountered Aubrey, accompanied by George’s massive dog. The boy quickly claimed Gabriel’s hand, allowing himself to be led up to the house. By now he was wet from falling in the water, and muddy from climbing back out, not to mention covered in dog slobber and all manner of twigs and stickers. His appearance was thoroughly disreputable, and perfectly normal.
    Making their way up through the garden, Gabriel spotted the ladies out on the terrace and quickened his pace. Finally, a chance to catch his nymph. He smiled to himself as he and the children hurried up the stairs and he caught Miss Mowbray watching him.
    She might be avoiding him, but she was definitely aware of him. It shouldn’t be too hard to bring her round. After years on the town he could tell when a woman was ripe to fall and when she wasn’t. Miss Mowbray had already fallen. She was just lying there, waiting for somebody to come along and pick her up.
    His elusive nymph eyed him warily as he approached, children dancing around him as though he were the Pied Piper. His cousin took one quick look and announced that she’d have nothing to do with her little gutter birds. “Aubrey’s filthy as usual,” she sighed wearily.
    Feeling very much like a fox let loose in a chicken coop, Gabriel suppressed a chuckle. George was watching him appraisingly, while his cousin smiled warmly and made room for him beside her. Miss Mowbray was trying to look uninterested, but succeeded only in appearing slightly dazed.
    It was delicious; she was delicious. She had on another modest, simple gown, again with a fichu covering her shoulders, almost totally obscuring the swell of her breasts. Who did she think she was kidding with that ridiculous garment? He curled his lip disdainfully and tried not to dwell on how badly his fingers itched to remove that offending wisp of fabric. At least she wasn’t wearing a cap over that magnificent hair.
    The nursery maid appeared to collect the children and Miss Mowbray leapt up with the excuse of arranging for refreshments. George flicked him a mocking glance and assured her friend that was an excellent idea; resulting in his nymph’s quick departure. Gabriel grimaced at the amused glances being shared all around him.
    Two days later Gabriel’s temper was starting to fray. His nymph was proving far more adept at avoiding him than he’d thought possible, and instead of enjoying the warm glow of a seduction, he was feeling decidedly piqued. He’d barely been able to get near her, and he’d yet to manage to cut her from the herd. She was always firmly planted beside George or Alençon, surrounded by the children, or bustling off to consult with Mrs. Gable about something or other. They were frequently in the same room, but she might as well have been at another party entirely.
    After dinner she would flirt and gossip with the other men—especially St. Audley, who would roundly quiz Gabriel with his eyes whenever she did so—even join them for a game of billiards, or a hand of whist, but he could barely get a nod out of her.
    She’d set her pickets, and he wasn’t going to get past them without a plan, without a bold maneuver.
    This morning, as