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squeaked.
    “Not to do?”
    “Places to avoid.”
    “Avoid?”
    “Oh, yes. Being alone for one thing. You must never be alone with
a man.”
    “Never? Is it really that bad?”
    “Always have a proper chaperone.” Ivy’s hand flew to her cheek as
she contemplated the implications of such an action. “It would ruin your
reputation to be caught without one. Men can be such …
    “Yes?”
    “Such … base creatures. Animals.” A flush crept up Ivy’s neck,
spilling onto her cheeks. “The very worst place—the dark walk at Vauxhall
Gardens. You mustn’t ever let a man lure you there.”
    “No, of course not,” she agreed, not wanting to cause her aunt
further distress. Still, Larissa was not exactly clear what horrible thing
would happen if she were to do what her aunt had expressly warned against.

Chapter Six
    The Earl of Rushton viewed himself in his full-length glass. He
shifted from his right to his left with military precision, admiring the
results of the diligent labors of his valet, Georges.
    All in all, Uncle Cyrus seemed pleased with his new wardrobe. A
dark blue fitted coat of superfine, cream knee breeches and cream stockings
with black slippers. In the center of his crisp, snow-white cravat, which
Randall instructed Georges to starch lightly, sat an ostentatious sapphire, a
silent reminder of his wealth.
    Randall found the earl resistant to his new hairstyle. Rushton
proclaimed the effort to be venturesome, to say the least, and fought Randall
at every step of its undertaking.
    “Cut locks cannot be replaced,” his Uncle Cyrus cautioned,
feeling the horror of cropping the lengthy strand he used to feign a full head
of hair.
    “A wealth of hair cannot be simulated, Uncle,” Randall had
responded. “You must make the most of what you have. Women will accentuate your
positive qualities.”
    “And what if the gentler sex deems it appropriate to point out my
inadequacies?”
    Randall gave a thoughtful smile. “Those would be the women to
avoid, wouldn’t they?”
    Rushton’s eyes shot open in realization. “Ah, just so! You are
right once again.”
    “Trust me, Uncle,” Randall said in total confidence. “As an
eligible earl at Almacks , you won’t be ignored.”
After that discussion, the length of hair in question had been removed.
    Rushton fingered his cravat and managed to tear himself away from
his glass. “Well, let’s be off, shall we? Soon the Season will grind to a halt
and then where will I be?”
    “Uncle, the Season has only just begun.”
    “I plan to put every moment to good use. My marriage to your Aunt
Constance was arranged, but we grew to love one another, and it was that love,”
he punctuated the statement with a forefinger, nearly stabbing Randall’s face, “that
grew over the years. I know now that love is the only reason to marry. I know
the ton would not find it fashionable, but what do I care!
    “Young or old, rich or poor, it shall not matter to me, for I
plan to marry for love. If love eludes me, then I shall not marry. I never
intended to replace your Aunt Constance, God rest her soul.” Rushton crossed
himself. “But I believe she would understand my wanting to remarry.”
    “I’m sure she would, Uncle. I don’t think she would want you to
remain alone.” Randall felt eternally grateful he did not feel the need to join
his uncle in the petticoat line.
    Almacks . The weekly gathering of the
fashionable and titled. He dreaded being here. It had been two years since
Randall had set foot inside its auspicious doors. And just as he had expected,
not much within those hallowed walls had changed.
    There were the same types of young girls and their matchmaking
mamas. Different names, different faces, but they would all look and act the
same as the last time he attended.
    Randall and his uncle proceeded through the room, reacquainting
themselves with the elite guests who were lucky enough to be in attendance.
Randall noticed Rushton kept his observant eyes