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not addressed a single word to her. He had scarcely even looked at her once he was close. And yet she had been given the distinct impression that they were all invited to his picnic because of her.
    What was he up to?
    She would dearly have loved the opportunity to consider his invitation, twirling her parasol nonchalantly as she did so, and then to refuse it quite publicly and distinctly without offering any excuse. Simply no. Instead, she had had to sit in silence and listen, like a child whose wishes are not consulted.
    It would serve him right if he really was planning his picnic for her sake and she failed to attend.
    His French accent had been quite noticeable throughout the short conversation. But he was British, was he not? Did he expect her to find his accent irresistible just because French-or English spoken with a French accent-was said to be the language of love? A rake might at least be more subtle in his approach.
    Of course, she thought, pitting her wits against those of a rake would surely enliven her days somewhat-her days really had become rather tedious. And the idea of a picnic by moonlight in the Forest of Soignés had definite appeal.
    "Who does that fellow think he is?" Lord Gordon asked, his voice irritated, one of his hands tapping out a rapid tattoo on the door of the barouche. "He expects us all to be impressed by his title though he has not set foot in England for years but has instead been moving around the Continent acquiring an unsavory reputation. I can believe it too. He muscled his way in at the Cameron ball two evenings ago and took the first waltz with Lady Morgan, whichI had determined should be mine."
    "I had promised the set to no one, Captain," Morgan reminded him sharply while Rosamond turned to talk excitedly to Major Franks and the other officers buzzed among themselves and Lady Caddick was making some remark to her husband. "It would have been improper to dance with you again so soon after the opening set. The Earl of Rosthorn was properly presented to me and asked formally for a set of dances, a request that I granted."
    "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "It is just that I find the fellow impudent and would not have him force his attentions on you if you are unwilling. Perhaps you are not."
    "If I were unwilling," she said, "I would give him the cut direct, especially if he were indeed impudent. But I cannot construe a properly made introduction at a ball asforcing attention upon anyone. And today he made his invitation very properly-and very generally-to your mama."
    "I beg your pardon," he said again stiffly.
    It was the closest she had come to quarreling openly with him. But really, Morgan thought, he could be very tiresome. And possessiveness was something she would tolerate in no man who was not her husband-or even in her husband, she decided, amending her thought.
    But now look what he had provoked her into, she thought, turning her eyes on the departing figure of Lord Rosthorn. Here she was defending the man when she was feeling more than a little annoyed with him.
    Whatwas he up to?
    CHAPTER III
     
    PREPARATIONS FOR WAR PROCEEDED APACE INBelgium. Every day brought fresh troops and supplies and artillery-though never enough for the Duke of Wellington, it was said. But not many people believed there was any danger to Brussels itself. Very few returned to the safety of the British Isles. Most threw themselves with ever greater enthusiasm into the entertainments offered daily for their amusement, determined to stay close to husbands and brothers and sons and lovers for as long as they were able.
    The evening picnic in the Forest of Soignés to be hosted by the Earl of Rosthorn proved more popular than any other entertainment so far. Of the dozens of invitations sent out, only three refusals came back.
    It had, of course, been an idea conceived entirely on the spur of the moment, Gervase admitted to himself after talking with Lady Caddick at the military review, which he had