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highwaymen…”
     
    “And so have I.” He smiled. “But not in this county. Lord Hardforshire assures me that highway robbery is unheard of, no doubt because it is a very small county. My mother will very likely wish to travel during the night. She is always anxious to reach London as soon as possible.”
     
    “Oh,” said Amanda meditatively, her eyes sliding to the magnificent diamond he wore in his cravat.
     
    The viscount fell silent and Amanda seized the opportunity to bite into a cake, while her mind worked furiously. The highwayman idea was only a dream.
     
    What if she and Richard held up Lord Hawksborough! But he looked so tall and imposing, and he
had
been rather pleasant and courteous. Amanda gave a little sigh. How marvellous it would be if you could live inside dreams and never have to face the cold harsh light of reality.
     
    Lord Hawksborough picked up his quizzing glass again and swung it by its cord between his fingers. The light from the chandelier sparked fire from the huge ruby which glowed on his middle finger, held by a thick antique setting of white gold.
     
    Isn’t it amazing sad, thought Amanda, that he can calmly talk about Richard finding work when that one ring would probably keep the three of us forever.
     
    Amanda swallowed the remains of her cake and started hurriedly on another. She felt someone watching her across the room and looked over and caught Aunt Matilda’s beaming, approving face. Good heavens! Aunt Matilda obviously thought she was fascinating his lordship. That was indeed flying high!
     
    But she
had
been popular this evening, thought Amanda, carefully putting the remains of her cake on the plate. Very. A lot of her partners had been Richard’s friends. Richard had lost touch with most of them since he had left school, but he was still regarded as a prime favourite. And they had paid her no end of compliments, so she could not be exactly an antidote.
     
    But she did not know how to flirt, so ran Amanda’s busy thoughts. The gentlemen had complimented her on her appearance and on her gown. In the books Amanda read, the villain always lusted passionately after the heroine, whereas the hero was always hitting his brow and looking on her in a kind of uplifting spiritual way and pressing his lips to her brow. But that was books for you. They were not much help in coping with the here and now. And here and now was one rich and attractive lord. Perhaps he was married.
     
    “Is your wife with you?” asked Amanda suddenly.
     
    “No,” he said. “I have no wife.”
     
    I must flirt, thought Amanda. At least I could
practise.
     
    Amanda wrinkled her brow. Then she remembered she had once asked Mrs. Jolly to instruct her in the art of flirting. Mrs. Jolly had said severely that good manners were enough, but had finally relented and said with a smile, “Always keep in mind, Amanda, that the gentlemen like compliments every bit as much as the ladies. I do not think the butter can be spread thick enough!”
     
    What did one say? She had heard one man remark to another at the beginning of the evening, “That gel has a deuced pretty ankle.” Perhaps something along those lines.…
     
    “You have a very fine leg, my lord,” said Amanda.
     
    Lord Hawksborough removed his gaze from the crowded room and fixed her with a pale silver stare. “I do not think I can possibly have heard you aright, Miss Amanda,” he said. He glanced down the table and saw a large leg of mutton, and his face cleared. His young companion must have a truly bottomless stomach and the digestion of an ostrich.
     
    “You were requesting some mutton?”
     
    “No,” said Amanda, all pretty puzzlement. “I said you have a very fine leg.”
     
    “Indeed!” he replied politely.
     
    “Yes,” said Amanda earnestly. “I think it is very well shaped.”
     
    “I cannot return the compliment,” he said gently, “for obvious reasons.”
     
    “And… and…” pursued the resolute Amanda,