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can force you to marry him.”
    “That’s the problem, Jess. Mama and Papa could force me. When they start shouting, and talking about my filial duty . ..” Her voice trailed off as she exam ined the ribbon she had twisted past any future use.
    “I shan’t let him have you!” Linda said. “I will say that you are promised to us here.”
    “It shouldn’t come to that, Linda.” Jessica chuckled and drew her daughter close to her side. They shared the same fiery auburn hair and glowing vitality, but the child had inherited her father’s brown eyes rather than her mother’s green ones. Laughing together in the breakfast parlor, they were perfect subjects for one of the livelier master painters—Rubens, perhaps, had he preferred a slimmer sort of female.
    “I expect you are right and I am worrying about nothing. I’ll probably never see the Diabolical Baron again, except in the distance at some crowded affair. In the meantime, poppet, it’s high time you and I got started with your music lesson. I must be home early to go shopping with Gina. She needs some ribbon to refurbish a gown before the Cavendish ball tomorrow night.”
    “I think I am too old to be a poppet, Caro,” Linda announced. “I am almost ten, you know.”
    “Indeed, I am very sorry to have made such a mis take. If Miss Sterling is ready for the pianoforte, may we begin? And if Miss Sterling has done her practice faithfully and performs well, there may just be some fresh gingerbread for her.”
    With a squeak of delight, Linda abandoned her new found maturity to dash to the music room, her cousin following with more decorum. Jessica looked after the figures a little sadly. Her little girl was not going to be a little girl much longer, and the niece that was almost a daughter was being forced into woman hood before she was ready.
    The hardest part of being a mother, she thought, was knowing that growth was painful. And that there was no way she could spare them those pains.
     

Chapter 3
     
    Caroline returned to the Hanscombe town house later than intended; the few minutes spent on a Mozart concerto became a full-scale composing ses sion after Linda left munching her gingerbread. Even at best she could be absentminded, and when she got involved in music, time lost any meaning.
    It was a family joke that Caro must be kept from the pianoforte if there were any important engagements. Once she had settled down for a few minutes’ playing after lunch, and had been forcibly dragged away by Gina six hours later to dress in time for dinner. She had been in a creative daze all that evening, but it had been worthwhile; it was the first time she had composed a concerto worthy of the name.
    In London, Caroline took pains to avoid getting over-absorbed in her music. The many distractions of town, coupled with the inferior performance of the pi anoforte in the rented town house, kept her in touch with the normal world. Today, however, she had been seduced away from her good intentions by the fine in strument Jessica owned. Gina was doubtless waiting impatiently.
    She was breathless and flushed from hurrying when she burst into the sitting room to find Gina. She took two steps into the room and stopped in shock. The Di abolical Baron was there.
    Jason did not miss her gasp at seeing him. Clearly Miss Hanscombe must learn that when he said he would do something, it was as good as done. Not for him the casual social promise! He said he would call, and was here at the earliest acceptable hour.
    He was pleased to see her, having endured a quarter-hour of Lady Hanscombe’s intrusive chatter as well as the forcible introduction of Miss Gina. A good-enough girl, but not one he could envision as Lady Radford; that jolly country squire from Almack’s would suit her very well.
    Caroline at least had possibilities. Thank heaven she wasn’t a talker like her mother.
    “Good day. Miss Hanscombe,” he said smoothly as he rose and made his bow. “The morning air suits