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finest cut and his demeanor rather more lordly than that of a servant. “My lord, I beg your pardon.”
    Now she remembered precisely who Dashiell Matthews, Viscount Carrington, was.
    Adonis
, she thought to herself.
    Looking at the man was not unlike what Elena assumed mere mortals might experience if encountering the gods. His hair was, quite literally, spun gold. And she’d never been one given to flights of fancy, but his piercing blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones found Elena peering about for signs that they’d taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up on Mt. Olympus.
    What is wrong with me?
    “For what, Miss Barnes?”
    Elena suddenly realized the man was slowly waving his hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry?”
    Lord Carrington smiled with easy charm. “You asked that I pardon you. I was simply curious as to the offense.”
    Oh God, his mouth. His full, full mouth
.
    She shook her head and strained to take in anythingbut the sight of Lord Carrington. “For my maid’s … For your rosebush, which will most likely require a serious pruning …” Elena paused, realizing belatedly that, in addition to making no sense at all, she’d also stopped the carriage short of the home’s front door. A perfect start to what would surely be a perfect stay.
    Perfect.
    She stared at the servants standing on the broad steps, all waiting awkwardly to dance attendance on her.
    “For the vomit, Lord Carrington,” she finally said, deciding the most direct course was more than likely the best at this point.
    Lord Carrington looked at her, his brow clouding with confusion. “But you’ve not cast up your accounts, have you Miss Barnes?”
    Ah, yes, it was all coming back to her now. Of course she’d never been privy to the conversations of the more desirable debutantes of her day, but Elena had heard snippets of delicious gossip here and there when the girls hadn’t been aware of her presence.
    This man was reputed to be as brainless as he was beautiful.
    Perhaps even more so.
    “No, no, I have not, my lord,” Elena replied, releasing Rowena into the care of a footman who’d made his way down the street.
    Elena almost,
almost
wished Lord Carrington had not opened his mouth.
    “Shall we ride to the front door, Miss Barnes?” the viscount asked, pointing to the carriage’s open door. “Seems a waste, after all. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    Elena watched as the footman escorted Rowena toward the waiting servants, reassured by his solicitous manner, before turning her attention back to Lord Carrington. “In the carriage, then?”
    “Of course, Miss Barnes,” he replied incredulously.“I’d hardly ask you to sit astride one of your matching grays.”
    She peered deep into his blue eyes, searching for intelligence.
    And deeper.
    And found nothing.
    Oh, dear.
    Elena sighed. “Actually, if you would not mind ever so much, I do believe I’d prefer walking.”
    Lord Carrington shrugged his shoulders and gestured toward the house. “Then we shall walk.”
    The two walked in silence to the waiting servants. Lord Carrington introduced the principal staff in a leisurely manner, finishing with the butler, Mr. Bell.
    The man bowed politely. “Miss Barnes, if you would allow me,” Bell began in a low, firm tone, “may I make the proper introductions?”
    The short, round man looked as uncomfortable as Elena felt.
    Lord Carrington laughed. “Hardly necessary, Bell. We met—over there, just a moment ago. Couldn’t you see from here?”
    Elena looked at Bell with relief. “Yes, Mr. Bell, that would be lovely.”
    “Miss Elena Barnes, may I present Dashiell Matthews, Viscount Carrington.”
    Elena dipped into a graceful curtsy, then offered her hand to the viscount.
    He executed a dignified bow and took her gloved hand in his, placing a chaste kiss against her knuckles. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Barnes,” he pronounced, his friendly smile accompanied by a wink.
    Elena smiled warmly at the man, much the