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down.”
    â€œAnd four years ago, when you stole his mistress?” Zachary inquired with a grin. “Did he challenge you about her, too?”
    â€œWell, no,” Royce admitted readily. “But I ask you, could I leave a high-flyer like the lovely Miranda in the care of a skin-fisted old rake like Devlin?”
    â€œSince I have never met the lovely Miranda, I can’t answer your question,” Zachary replied lightly. “But I think you will agree that the Earl of St. Audries does have some foundation for his aversion to your company.”
    Royce’s handsome mouth twisted ruefully. “You know it’s the damnedest thing, Zack! I usually don’t go out of my way to make enemies, but there is something about Devlin that sets my teeth on edge—and unfortunately, it appears that I have the same effect upon him!”
    â€œPerhaps it’s just that the Devlins don’t like Americans,” Zachary said gloomily, thinking of his own clashes with Julian Devlin, the Earl’s heir and only child.
    â€œCould be,” Royce agreed quietly. “But in your case and Julian’s, I think your disagreements have come about because you both are too much alike!”
    â€œAlike?” Zachary growled with displeasure. “We are nothing alike! How can you possibly compare me with that vain, arrogant puppy?”
    Royce smiled at Zachary’s words. “Puppy” could very well apply to both Julian Devlin and Zachary Seymour, and while Royce was certain that neither young man was as vain as the other claimed, they were both occasionally arrogant. Despite the animosity between himself and the Earl, Royce actually liked young Devlin, or at least he had seen nothing these past weeks to make him change his initial favorable impression of the young man.
    Giving Zachary a lazy smile, Royce said lightly, “Despite your protests, I’ll wager that you and young Devlin will be close cronies once you both realize how much you have in common.”
    At Zachary’s outraged expression, Royce laughed, and rising lithely to his feet, he murmured, “I’ll leave you to mull that over while I go in search of far more amiable company—prettier, too!”
    A knowing look crossed Zachary’s face. “The fair Della?”
    â€œNaturally!”
    Driving his pair of high-stepping horses through the London traffic toward the comfortable little house that he had procured for his new mistress, Della Camden, Royce decided that this trip to London was really an excellent experience for his young cousin. Except for a few race meets in Virginia, Zachary hadn’t been more than ten miles away from Willowglen, the plantation near Baton Rouge in Louisiana where he and his sister, Melissa, had been born. It was past time that Zachary gained a little “town bronze,” and London was certainly the place for that!
    Royce smiled to himself, thinking of the changes that had occurred in Zachary’s life these past months since Dominic Slade had married Melissa. Upon Melissa’s marriage to Dominic, who was one of Royce’s closest friends, Zachary and Melissa had come into the fortune that had been placed in trust for them by their grandfather. Now, instead of a dilapidated house and overgrown acres, Zachary was the proud possessor of a completely refurbished home, and his lands were thriving under the expert guidance of a competent overseer; for the first time in his life, Zachary had leisure time and a sizable fortune resting comfortably in the bank!
    Royce almost envied Zachary the early hardships he had endured. Being the oldest child of doting, indulgent, and extremely wealthy parents, Royce had never wanted for anything in his life. When he had reached his majority and might have been expected to strike out on his own, he had been saved, or perhaps cursed, by the providential death of his paternal grandmother, who had left him the bulk of her substantial