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that he could do whatever he wished, a situation that could hardly be more convenient or more pleasant, and so, sweetly, he occasionally attended her dinners. It had helped with the few monsters of protocol who still shunned her. Calbourne was without wife and highly eligible; not many hostesses or guests would ignore those two facts in conjunction.
    Ashdon was playing whist at the moment, Calbourne standing just off and watching him. Sophia glided over to Calbourne and said, “He does lose rather brilliantly, doesn’t he?”
    Calbourne smiled crookedly and said, “Everyone must do something brilliantly.”
    “Then how fortunate that he has found his brilliance so early in life.”
    Calbourne looked down at her from his remarkable height. “Now, Lady Dalby, we both know that you and Lord Ashdon are almost of an age.”
    Sophia fluttered her fan and smiled. “You are a brilliant liar, your grace. It is what, I believe, makes you so charming as a dinner companion.”
    “Have I charmed you, then?” He grinned softly. “To charm Sophia … you must know that sonnets are written instructing us how.”
    “But not every man can follow instruction, your grace,” she said, her eyes shining at him from above the rim of her fan.
    “I think, sometimes, the teacher must take the fault of that.”
    “Said the disgruntled student,” she said, laughing lightly.
    “I am an able student, Lady Dalby,” he said, his golden hazel eyes burning with sudden heat.
    “And I an able tutor,” she countered. “But, alas, all that is past. I am past my prime, according to my daughter.”
    “Children are ruthless, pushing us into old age before our inclination.”
    “But not before our time?” she joked. “But you are too young, your grace, to think these thoughts. Your son is how old now?”
    “Seven, and he makes me feel one hundred.”
    “The trick, your grace, is to not look as old as you sometimes feel. You are doing brilliantly. You look … remarkable.”
    Calbourne bowed crisply. “Is that my talent, then? To look remarkable? Looks to be remarked upon? I daresay, that calls forth all sorts of images.”
    “When a man of your age and situation must hunt and peck for compliments,” Sophia said, laughing, “can England long survive?”
    “I believed we were discussing how long Calbourne was to survive,” he said, laughing with her.
    Ashdon looked up from the table and grumbled something. Sophia, unfortunately, couldn’t hear what.
    Calbourne took her by the elbow and led her to a small sofa angled into a corner of the room. Sophia sank to the sofa like a peacock feather. His grace sat beside her, his long legs almost dwarfing the sofa.
    “Shall we continue to flirt, your grace, or would you rather talk plainly?” Sophia asked. “I find immeasurable pleasure in either form of conversation.”
    “Which is why a man finds so much enjoyment in conversing with you, madam. You are accommodating, and entertaining, in the extreme.”
    “And still he flatters,” she said, looking across the room to where Viscount Staverton had apparently trapped Anne Warren into stilted conversation. She would have to attend to Anne soon; enough time had been given to the Duke of Calbourne for one evening, as much as she enjoyed him.
    “I am losing you, lady. Your gaze wanders.”
    “As does my interest, your grace,” she said softly, looking at him with the lightest of glances.
    “Speak of what you will. I am held prisoner.”
    “Then I will speak of Lord Ashdon,” she said, letting her eyes wander the room. “How well do you know him?”
    “Better than any man,” he said softly. “Better than you, I should think.”
    Sophia chuckled. “I should hope so. I am hardly Eton material.” She paused to close her fan and lay it on her lap. “You know of his debts?”
    “Yes.”
    “You know of my remedy to relieve him of them?”
    “Yes.”
    She cast him a sideways glance of inquiry. He matched it with an easy smile.
    “You know