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prepared to stroll onward. But he glanced in the direction of the new arrivals and stopped abruptly, his lips pursed.
    Well! Here was something to enliven what had promised to be an intolerably dull morning. Here she was.
    She was dressed today in a russet walking dress and bonnet and looked tamer than she had yesterday. She also had a look of bored hauteur on her face as if, like him, she would far prefer to be somewhere else altogether more lively.
    "Who is the lady-" he began to ask his grandmother.
    But the lady in question caught sight of him even as he spoke. She held his gaze, her eyes growing noticeably more steely despite the distance between them.
    And then he heard the echo of what Mrs. Lumbard had just said-and Lady Freyja Bedwyn.
    That prominent nose went up in the air and with it the aggressively set chin. The green eyes grew arctic.
    Joshua was already enjoying himself.
    "-in russet with the two other ladies Mrs. Lumbard is approaching?" he asked, completing his question.
    "Lady Freyja Bedwyn?" his grandmother asked, following the line of his gaze. "Lady Holt-Barron has been displaying her all over Bath since she arrived a few days ago, like some sort of trophy. Which is, of course, what I will be accused of doing with you."
    "Lady Freyja Bedwyn?" he asked.
    The woman was tapping an impatient tattoo on the floor with one foot. She was taking no notice at all of Mrs. Lumbard, who was fawning all over her, but was still gazing narrow-eyed at Joshua.
    "The Duke of Bewcastle's sister," his grandmother explained.
    Uh-oh. Joshua grinned slowly and deliberately.
    Lady Freyja Bedwyn was leaving her group without a word or a backward glance and was moving purposefully across the room with long, manly strides. The inappropriateness of her movements in such confined, genteel surroundings drew attention even before she came to a halt less than a foot in front of Joshua, glaring at him with what he could now correctly interpret as aristocratic disdain.
    "Lady Potford," she said without taking her eyes off him, "would you be so good as to inform me of the identity of the gentleman who is with you?"
    There was a brief silence, the only indication his grandmother gave of the surprise she must be feeling at this quite unmannerly demand.
    "Hello, sweetheart," Joshua murmured, and thought that if Lady Freyja Bedwyn only had a chimney in the top of her head she might not look quite as if she were about to explode.
    "Lady Freyja," his grandmother said with admirable poise, "may I have the honor of presenting my grandson, Joshua Moore, Marquess of Hallmere? Lady Freyja Bedwyn, Joshua."
    She glared at him with flared nostrils, apparently quite uncowed by what she had just learned. He returned her look with amused admiration. By God, she did not mind making a spectacle of herself before a large audience of Bath society. And the buzz of conversation had indeed hushed considerably as heads turned to see what it was that was threatening to disturb the genteel routine of the morning stroll.
    "I believe," Lady Freyja said in strident tones that must be carrying clearly to every farthest corner of the room, "he would be more appropriately named the Marquess of Hellmere." She pointed one kid-gloved finger directly at his chest. "This man does not even deserve the name of gentleman."
    There was an audible gasp from all around them, followed by shushing sounds. No one wanted to miss a word of this delicious scandal that was developing before their very eyes.
    "My dear Lady Freyja-" his grandmother began, sounding quite dismayed.
    "This man," Lady Freyja continued, "likes to amuse himself by preying upon innocent, helpless women."
    There was a swell of shocked sound followed again by more frantic shushing sounds.
    "I do beg you, Lady Freyja-" His grandmother tried again.
    Lady Freyja poked her finger, like a blunt dagger, into Joshua's chest.
    "I warned him that I would discover his identity and expose him to Bath society for the villain he is.