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introduce my good friend, Lord Hollings, Earl of Wellesley.”
    Mrs. Cummings gave a quick, awkward curtsy. “Lord Hollings,” she said. “How nice of you to accompany His Grace.”
    For some reason, Rand got the feeling Mrs. Cummings was not at all pleased that Edward had come along, and he wondered if she wanted her daughter alone to be seen with English nobility.
    During the next fifteen minutes, Rand met at least a hundred mamas who fawned over him but fairly beamed at poor Edward. As yet, he had not caught sight of his future bride among the throng of pastel-wearing young women. At some point, Edward managed to escape, the cad, and left him alone to face the adoring throngs. He was called everything from “Your Lordship” to “Your Dukeship” and didn’t bother correcting a single person. Americans, after all, were completely ignorant of the peerage. A small orchestra played rather badly in one corner, though no one seemed to notice. Or perhaps they simply did not recognize the bad play for what it was.
    Ah, there was Edward, standing by a table laden with pastries. He craned his neck over Mrs. Cummings, whose large and feathered hat blocked most of his view, and wished most ardently that he was with Edward alone in their cottage instead of in this crowded piazza.
    “Is Elizabeth here?” he asked, when it appeared Mrs. Cummings had run out of people to introduce him to. The older woman smiled, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. He wondered suddenly, if Elizabeth didn’t smile because she was so afflicted.
    “I believe I just saw her standing in the corner with her cousins. There,” she said, nodding her head in the opposite direction of the food. With an inward sigh, he begged to be excused, and headed to where Elizabeth stood looking completely miserable at his approach.
    “You could at least pretend to be happy to see me,” he said lightly when he reached her side. The two girls next to her giggled.
    “My cousins, Miss Julia Cummings and her very much younger sister, Miss Sarah Cummings,” Elizabeth said, frowning at the giggling girls.
    Rand gave them a sharp bow, eliciting more giggles from the pair.
    “Go find your mother,” Elizabeth said, and the two girls rushed away. But not before Rand overheard one say to the other, “I thought she said he was horrid. He seemed quite nice to me.”
    Elizabeth had the good grace to turn violently red.
    “Horrid?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
    “I don’t believe that was the precise word I used,”
    Elizabeth said with a small groan. “I do apologize. They are very young.”
    Rand looked longingly toward the table of food.
    “Would you care to accompany me to the pastries?”
    Rand wished he could capture the look on her face at that moment, for she looked so ridiculously pleased by his suggestion he wondered if, in addition to everything else, her mother starved her. At least she was smiling and showing a mouth of even, white teeth. She had a lovely smile that transformed her from a pretty girl into a beauty and he was nearly struck dumb by the change in her. “I see you are as famished as I.”
    Elizabeth gave him a startled look. “Oh. Yes,” she said almost absently, for her heart was racing madly as she drank in the sight of Henry standing by the refreshment stand staring at her like, well, like a starving man looks at food. She couldn’t believe her mother hadn’t noticed his appearance yet, though she didn’t know what Alva would do if she did. For now, he was here, Henry was here and looking at her and smiling the way he only smiled for her.
    The duke held his arm for her and she placed a gloved hand as lightly as she could without ignoring it completely. He was taking far too long to reach the other side of the lawn where Henry stood in a small circle of people.
    “I’d like to introduce you to my friend, the Earl of Wellesley. He’s accompanied me here to keep me company. I have asked your mother to include him in any