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relief, glad to see him and glad to see Nick and Carrie had finished their dance.
    “You must come and meet some of our other guests, as well,” Drew continued. “I don’t believe you were ever properlyintroduced to Nick Dennison here, what with all the confusion last night.”
    “How do you do?” Nick also shook Lincoln’s hand, turning him even further from Madeline. “Grand bash this, isn’t it? I hope Dad got you nicely settled into your new room.”
    Lincoln’s heavy brows came together. “Dad?”
    “Yes, Dad,” Nick said sunnily. “I’m sure you remember him, rather stodgy-looking older gentleman, very proper, very Victorian and that. Took your coat at the door, showed you into the drawing room when you arrived, moved your things for you when you changed rooms.”
    “Dennison?”
    “Precisely. John Hanover Dennison, butler and proud father.”
    “See here, Farthering,” Lincoln protested. “This man says his father is your butler!”
    Drew shrugged. “Well, he would know, wouldn’t he?”
    Madeline and Carrie giggled at the indignation on Lincoln’s face.
    “You see,” Drew added as he picked up one of the glasses he had just brought, “Mr. Dennison is the son of a gentleman’s gentleman, which is much better, my dear Mr. Lincoln, than being, as you are, merely a son of a—” he took a slow sip of his Bucks Fizz—“gentleman.”
    Nick choked back a chuckle.
    “You dare allow him into a society party,” Lincoln sputtered, “knowing he’s of the working class?”
    “Why, he’s not working now, are you, Nick, old man?”
    Nick looked about for a moment and then shook his head in wide-eyed innocence. “Don’t seem to be now, guv,” he said, putting on a broad Cockney accent. “No, most definitely not.”
    This time Madeline laughed aloud, and Lincoln stiffened.
    “I’ll make sure everyone here knows about this.”
    “My friends already know,” Drew told him, his expression cool. “And I haven’t a care what anyone else thinks.”
    “Then I see I am the one out of place here,” Lincoln said with grave condescension.
    “I would say you are,” Drew agreed. “And I would suggest you turn your attentions toward those who might welcome them.”
    Lincoln sneered. “Quite right. Perhaps I should go spend some time with your mother.”
    Drew’s gray eyes flashed, but before he could respond, Madeline draped her arm across Lincoln’s shoulders and smiled into his eyes, all demure innocence, still holding the drink he had brought her.
    “Now, I think that’s a lovely idea, Mr. Lincoln. I believe Aunt Constance is right over there.”
    She turned as she said it, indicating the place, and just happened to empty her glass down his immaculate shirtfront.
    Lincoln’s outraged oath could be heard over the music.
    “Merely a slight mishap,” Drew assured the startled onlookers as Lincoln stood there gasping.
    Madeline put one hand over her mouth, covering a smile. “Oh dear, Mr. Lincoln! Now you see why I really shouldn’t drink.”
    Nick took a dry serviette from the tray and stuffed it into the front of Lincoln’s sodden waistcoat. “I’d help you clean up, old man, but I wouldn’t want you to think I was working or anything.”
    Puffed up like an angry cat, Lincoln stalked off.
    “I hope he didn’t hurt your feelings, Mr. Dennison,” Madeline said once he had gone, but Nick only laughed in answer.
    “Nonsense,” Drew assured her. “He’s been offending the upper classes for years now. It’s his favorite hobby.”
    He smiled as he said it, but there was still discernible anger in his taut face as he watched Lincoln make his way through the dancers and straight to Constance. Constance took Lincoln’sarm, said something urgent in his ear, and the two of them went out the side door.
    Madeline slipped her arm through Drew’s. “I never did get to taste that Bucks Fizz.”
    “Ah, well, we can’t have that, can we?” he said, and his smile was a little more genuine as