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together. She did not like to justify her expenses to anyone.
    “Thank you.” She managed a smile. “That will be all for now, Mr. Reynolds. I appreciate you, as always.”
    After he left, Eliza glanced at the clock on her desk. Her nose wrinkled. The morning was gone, and the afternoon was rushing by as swiftly. Soon, she would be welcoming guests into her parlor and engaging in conversation so inane she wouldn’t remember later what she discussed.
    She was disappointed Jasper wouldn’t be there. The time would be much more engrossing if he were. When she considered all the amusements used to enliven events that never engaged her—the pianoforte, singing, card games, and chess—she was taken by the realization it was a man best used as a blunt-force instrument who interested her most.
     
    There were some days when Eliza actually enjoyed riding through Hyde Park, despite the torturously slow pace of the congestion and the need for endless smiling that pained her cheeks. Today was one of those good days. The soft breeze and gentle warmth of the sun were refreshing, and the need to prepare quick and appropriate responses to greetings kept her thoughts free of Jasper.
    “You seem to be enjoying yourself today, Miss Martin,” the Earl of Montague said from his seat beside her. He’d arrived for their agreed-upon outing in a new and clearly expensive curricle. When he first began pursuing her in earnest, she’d wondered why a peer of seemingly substantial wealth would show such dogged interest in her of all people. Then she learned he maintained the appearance of solvency through prudence—and luck—at the gaming tables. It was a clever ruse and one few bothered to delve into.
    She looked at him with a frown, slightly chagrined by her inability to navigate the social waters without bumping into things. “Is it so obvious that I usually do not?”
    “Not so obvious, no,” he said, while deftly handling the ribbons. He maneuvered through the multitude of conveyances on South Carriage Drive with admirable skill. “But I’ve taken to paying close attention to you, Miss Martin. And I collect that you have little interest in Society as a whole.”
    “To put it bluntly, my lord.”
    Montague grinned, his teeth white despite the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. Of all her suitors, she would say he was the most attractive. His dark hair was so thick and glossy she thought it might feel like silk if she touched it, and his eyes were extremely expressive. Similar in color to Jasper’s, but nowise near as shuttered.
    “I understand,” he went on, “that a woman loses a measure of freedom when she takes a husband.”
    “Most vexing, to be sure.”
    “And I appreciate your reticence. You see, I’ve come to the delayed understanding that people in general perplex you.”
    Eliza’s brows rose. “You have?”
    “I realize now I was going about this business of courting you all wrong. Most women want wooing—flowers and tokens of affection, focused attention, and the like.”
    “The flowers you send weekly are lovely,” she said automatically, although she thought it a shame for such beautiful living things to be cut away from their source of nourishment.
    “I’m gratified you think so. But I believe you wouldn’t miss them if I ceased making the gesture. You would not experience hurt feelings or attribute emotional reasons to my actions based on conjecture.”
    He offered a genuine smile, and she stared, seeing a charm in it she’d missed previously. It was an aftereffect of Jasper that she was now overly attentive to other males. She wanted to discern why the thief-taker affected her so strongly.
    “I am sorely inept at interpreting such things,” she agreed, adjusting the angle of her parasol to better shield her face. The slightest touch of sun on her nose would result in more freckles.
    “No, you are perfectly reasoned,” his lordship argued. “And that’s where I erred. I was pandering to your