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“I do thank you! What a splendid, splendid notion!” She whirled away to address her maid, who had anticipated her and was already carefully taking apart the posy from Captain Hughes.
    Michele remained with Lydia until the transformed fillet was pronounced to be perfect. Then she and Lydia left the bedroom and went downstairs.
    The first guests had begun to arrive and the young ladies joined Lady Basinberry and Mr. Davenport in forming a receiving line. As each guest was announced and greeted, Lady Basinberry introduced her nieces. Michele smiled and extended her hand innumerable times. Some of the faces were familiar to her, and then she was able to exchange more than the barest pleasantries. One such personage was the Countess of Kenmare.
    Lady Kenmare clasped Michele’s hand in both of her own. Her pleasant expression was warmed by genuine friendliness. “My dear Michele, how happy I am to see you again. We quite lost touch with your family once we returned to England, which I have always regretted. You and Abigail were such good friends,” she said.
    “Yes, and I would like to see her again while I am in London. Is she with you this evening, my lady?”
    Lady Kenmare shook her head. “I wish that she were. But she is at home in Scotland, preparing to make me a grandmother.” She laughed and her wide gray eyes twinkled. “I do not feel at all old enough to don such a role, but sometimes these things are thrust upon one.” She said a few more kind words and promised to call on Michele in the near future before she moved on.
    “My dear, I did not know that you were acquainted with the Countess of Kenmare,” Lady Basinberry said, regarding her niece with astonishment.
    “Nor did I,” Michele said, laughing. “When I saw her ladyship in Brussels, she was a mere widow. Her daughter and I were brought out in the same year. It is quite astonishing to hear that Abigail is a matron and a mother-to-be.’’
    Lady Basinberry was on the point of remarking that Michele should have been in the same position, when her attention was distracted. She stared hard at the young gentleman who was bowing low to Lydia. “Captain Hughes, I believe,” she said, inserting herself beside Lydia.
    Captain Hughes smiled and made his obeisance to her ladyship. He was not at all put out of countenance by Lady Basin-berry’s cool tone. “Kind of you to remember me, my lady. I hope to visit more with you and your delightful nieces later in the evening,” he said jauntily, sliding a glance at Lydia before he moved on to exchange a friendly word with Michele.
    Mr. Davenport had noted what appeared to him to be an outrageously flirtatious wink at his daughter. He nudged his sister and said in a low voice, “The boy is tenacious, Beatrice. You shall have to be a veritable watchdog to see that he does not monopolize Lydia. I do not wish her other suitors, and one in particular, to be put off.”
    Lady Basinberry snorted and said with some asperity, “Pray do not aspire to lecture me upon my duty, Edwin. After creditably marrying off three daughters, I think that I know better than you how to arrange these matters.”
    “Of course, Beatrice. I bow to your wide experience,” said Mr. Davenport, not at all insulted. In fact he was immensely pleased that he could allow the responsibility for his daughter’s future to rest squarely in his sister’s capable hands.
    Michele’s pleasant interchange with Captain Hughes was brought to an abrupt end when she glanced around to meet Lord Anthony Randol’s unfriendly gaze. She felt her heart jump into her throat. Her expression altered and Captain Hughes turned his head quickly to look at his lordship in some surprise. He said a few more gracious words that Michele replied to in a disjointed fashion, and she hardly noticed when Captain Hughes withdrew. All her attention was riveted on Lord Randol.
    Despite the jagged scar that began above his right brow and narrowed down nearly to the jaw, his