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speak privately to her. Obviously this Henry fellow was considered part of the New York Four Hundred else he’d not be among this crowd. He wondered why, when the two so obviously loved each other, they had not been allowed to marry. He made a mental note to find out more about the man who moved so easily among those gathered in the piazza.
    “Rand, did you know Miss Cummings speaks four languages?” Edward asked, apparently already smitten with his future wife. How she managed to be so charming to every man but him, he couldn’t fathom.
    “English, of course. French, German, and a bit of Italian.”
    “Very impressive, Miss Cummings,” he said, meaning it. He’d had no idea she was so educated.
    “My mother always stressed the value of education for women.”
    “Ah. So your mother is a student of Emmeline Parkhurst,” Rand said, referring to England’s most ardent suffragist.
    “She’s not so radical as your Mrs. Parkhurst, but she does admire her ideals,” Elizabeth said.
    “And what of you, Miss Cummings?”
    “I do believe women deserve the same rights as men. It makes no sense to me that we cannot vote,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not quite so enthusiastic as my mother. I am the product of her zeal, which meant for me long hours in the classroom learning tedious lessons while I longed to play outside,” she said, smiling.
    Rand had a picture in his head of a small girl with an unruly mop of hair sitting in a gloomy classroom being browbeaten by a tutor. “Like you, there were many times I wished to be anywhere but the classroom,” he said.
    “I think I’ll wander to the tennis courts, if you don’t mind. I play a bit myself and would like to see your American courts,” Edward said, smoothly removing himself from their company.
    “Would you care for some pastries?” Rand asked when Edward had left.
    Elizabeth looked at the table rather longingly, then seemed to abruptly change her mind. How, indeed, could she hold a plate and eat while clutching an illicit note? Again, Rand had to remind himself he should not be jealous of a girl he wasn’t even certain he liked. Strangely, he already felt possessive of her even though nothing had been formally settled between them. In fact, nothing informally had been settled either. Her parents had made the rather gauche offer, which he was, also rather gauchely, considering. Still, the fact she so ardently held a note from her lover while standing next to him was more than disconcerting.
    “Perhaps you should put the note in your reticule,” he suggested in an overly pleasant tone. She blushed scarlet, as he intended she should. She started to speak with a small shake of her head, as if she was about to deny having a note, but then she stopped.
    “That is a good suggestion,” she said, looking straight at him, as if challenging him to take the note away. And damn if he didn’t want to. She took the note, not bothering to hide it, and slid the pink-tinted paper carefully inside. Rand couldn’t help but wonder what sort of man used pink stationery.
    “I would ask that you not make a spectacle of yourself. Or of me,” he said, feeling uncharacteristic anger shoot through him. His anger must have come through in his voice, for she shot her chin up.
    “I have done nothing of the sort,” she said.
    “Accepting a note from another man while standing with your intended would qualify as a spectacle had even one other person seen what you did,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I am many things, Miss Cummings, but I am not a fool. Nor will I be made to look like one. I have come here in good faith, at the request of your parents, and I will not—”
    “Your Grace, if I might interrupt, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Astor,” Mrs. Cummings said.
    It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Mrs. Cummings that she may not interrupt, but good breeding prevented him from doing so. “Of course,” he said, looking quickly to Elizabeth, whose cheeks were