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animal wouldn’t have speeded up for any less encouragement than I gave him. Am I forgiven?”
    Livia said nothing to that. She glanced over her shoulder and instead observed neutrally, “We seem to have lost the groom in that headlong race.”
    “Hardly headlong.”
    She shrugged. “Hardly decorous either. I must go back to Lady Devries before she sends out a search party.” She turned her horse and raised her whip in pointed farewell. “Good day, Prince Prokov.”
    “Allow me to escort you to your friend. It seems the least I can do to make amends,” he said, falling in smoothly beside her. “And I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you home. A mere groom, a livery stables groom at that, is hardly adequate escort for a ride through the London streets. Your mount might become startled and bolt with you.”
    It was too much. Livia went into a peal of laughter. Alex watched her appreciatively, but this time wisdom told him to hold his tongue on further intimate compliments. He was rewarded by her tacit consent to his company back to the others.
    “Wherever have you been?” Lilly asked with a note of reproof. “You should never gallop in the park, Livia.”
    “Lady Livia’s horse ran away with her,” the prince said solemnly. “She was unable to hold him. I went to her assistance.”
    “Really,” Lilly said, regarding her friend’s mount rather doubtfully. “He doesn’t look as if he had it in him.”
    “He doesn’t,” Livia said. “The prince thinks he’s being amusing.” She gave him a cool smile. “An unfortunate misapprehension. I think perhaps he does not understand English humor.”
    “Oh, touché,” he murmured, raising a hand in a fencer’s gesture that acknowledged a hit.
    “Well, no harm done,” Colonel Melton said heartily. “Shall we ride on?”
    “No, I must return to Cavendish Square,” Livia said. “Lady Farnham returned from the country this morning and I must keep her company.”
    “Then let us go at once,” Alex said. “You must not keep the lady waiting another minute.” He reached for her bridle to turn the horse on the path. Livia’s whip flashed and stung the back of his gloved hand.
    He withdrew the hand with a barely stifled gasp and met the blaze of her glare. “Thank you for the offer, sir,” she said with deceptive sweetness. “So very kind of you, but I’m very much afraid I have to decline. Do please remain with your friends.” She offered her farewells, then turned back to the Stanhope Gate, the groom at her heels.
    Alex gave her a minute or two, then made his own excuses and rode after her. He caught up with her before she reached the gate and fell in beside her. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, and after a long silence he said, “That was a grave error on my part. Will you forgive me that too?”
    She turned to look at him as they reached Piccadilly. “Just who do you think you are?” The question sounded more puzzled than indignant. “I barely know you and yet you are behaving with me as if you have some kind of right…as if we’d known each other from the cradle or something.”
    He gave an elaborate mock shudder. “Oh, no…not the innocent intimacy of childhood friends…that wouldn’t suit me at all.”
    “It wouldn’t suit me either,” Livia found herself responding. And now why was she was chatting with him as naturally as if they had known each other for months and he had never infuriated her for a minute? She shook her head in irritation, firmly closed her mouth, and didn’t open it again until they reached Cavendish Square.
    Alex had swung himself down from his horse before the groom had even begun to dismount himself. He reached up a hand to Livia. “Allow me to assist you, ma’am.”
    “I require no assistance,” she said shortly, ignoring the hand. She slipped gracefully from the saddle and smoothed down her skirts. “I give you good day, Prince Prokov.”
    “I find I’m very thirsty,” Alex said