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floor.
    The music ended, and as the polite exchanges and ex odus off the floor began, Miles spotted Elizabeth stand ing close by, and lifted his brows in unspoken question.
    She waited as he bowed over the hand of the—simpering, in her opinion—young woman, and then joined her by the open terrace doors. “What?” he asked without preamble, adjusting his cuffs in an affectation that annoyed her, which was probably why he did it in the first place. He’d been antagonizing her since childhood. “And before you tell me why you are loitering here, pinning me with that penetrating stare I know so well, may I say I like that shade of rose much better on you than that insipid pink gown you wore the other night that made you look both sallow and about twelve years old?”
    She regarded her cousin with a withering look. “What a lovely, well-worded compliment. I might swoon in gratitude.”
    Miles, as always, was unfazed by the sarcasm. “At least I didn’t mention you are no longer quite as flatchested, and those occasional, unfortunate spots seem to be a thing of the past. A porcelain complexion is quite the fashion right now. My compliments.”
    In a saccharine tone, she retorted, “In the spirit of generosity, I’ll say your longer hairstyle somewhat distracts one from noticing the length of your nose. Perhaps you are growing into it after all. I despaired to see it happen.”
    “My nose isn’t long.” He had the nerve to look offended, as if he hadn’t started the argument.
    “My chest isn’t flat.”
    “Isn’t that what I just said?”
    “You shouldn’t be looking, either way.”
    “Men happen to do that once they reach a certain age.” He merely grinned, clearly unrepentant. “I also have to shave quite often now too.”
    When had he gotten so tall , she wondered in pure irritation, since she came up only to his chin at best, and once upon a time, she had been able to look him in the eye. His shoulders too had broadened, and his features, which had once been almost girlishly pretty, had done some sort of inexplicable metamorphosis into masculine angles and clean lines that her friends actually thought attractive. They even whispered over him.
    Just imagine, whispering over Miles .
    In fact, her cousin was fast gaining a reputation as a rake, and no one was more surprised than she was that the awkward, irritating companion of her youth was be coming so popular with the beau monde.
    Elizabeth took his arm in a firm grip. “I want to talk to you.”
    “Apparently so,” he said dryly, but didn’t resist when she tugged him toward the corner by the already dis ordered and almost empty canapé table. “What’s so urgent?”
    “What did Luke do?” she asked bluntly when they were relatively alone, sandwiched between the aban doned tables and a potted plant. “I can tell something has happened, but no one wants to mention it to me, apparently.”
    Her cousin regarded her with his usual lazy insouci ance. “You wish me to repeat common gossip?”
    “Absolutely, if it concerns my brother.”
    “He might not thank me for it.” Miles propped a shoulder against the wall and shrugged. “Look, El, it isn’t anything truly scandalous, so just forget it. Reck less, maybe, but he can afford it.”
    “Afford what?” she asked. Truth was, she was worried about Luke. The joie de vivre exterior he sometimes presented was at odds with the long hours he spent brooding in his study. Though she hadn’t mentioned it, she knew their mother also disapproved of his overnight absences and distractions. It wasn’t like him.
    “Luke might have my head for telling you. We have a gentlemen’s code.”
    “Code?” she echoed with a small snort that might even be interpreted as unladylike. “Aren’t you the same gentleman who once slipped a frog into my bed?”
    “I was ten.” But he laughed.
    Actually, Elizabeth realized, when he laughed like that, he did look quite handsome. His dark brown hair and his eyes, so