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lazy, appreciative grin that made her heart take a slow turn in her chest.
    Eloisa pecked Evelyn’s cheek. “That’s the spirit! I shall ask Lucy which prince is currently unattached. She’ll know, if anyone will.”
    “It was a joke,” Evelyn protested, but Sam was opening the door for Eloisa. A yellow feather floated out of her hat as she passed, and he caught it and tucked it into his wig with a roguish grin.
    Evelyn snatched it out again and gave him a look of censure. He followed Eloisa down the hall and let her out.
    Evelyn went to the window to watch her sister get into her coach, newly painted a deep golden yellow. Even her horses had golden coats, and yellow feathers on their heads.
    “You have no reason to avoid the park, my lady.”
    Evelyn turned to find Sam in the doorway.
    “If you wish to go riding, I will escort you, and I promise no harm will come to you.”
    She read the truth of that in his eyes. Deep, soft, gray eyes, trustworthy and stalwart.
    “I—” she began, suddenly finding herself breathless. She straightened at once. “I really must speak to you about your behavior during my sister’s visit,” she began sternly, but he grinned, tying her tongue in a knot.
    “It was good to see you smile.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. “Still, it was bad of you to mock Viscountess Wilton.”
    His lips thinned in contrition, but failed to dim the light in his eyes.
    “I assume you weren’t serious about Mrs. Cooper’s elbow,” he said, not bothering with an apology. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky. I checked when I let Elo—er, Viscountess Wilton—out.” He pointed to the sunlight pouring through the window to pool at Evelyn’s feet. “You can’t stay inside forever. Your sister is right about that, at least. Don’t hide yourself away, my lady. Step outside. Fight the battle.”
    Evelyn’s heart melted. Her soldier. Her hero. He had kept her safe before, and she so desperately wanted exercise, fresh air, and freedom. He’d promised to keep her safe.
    She believed him.
    “Thank you, Sam. If it will not interfere with your other duties, you will accompany me tomorrow. I’ll have John Coachman pick a suitable horse for you. I assume you ride?”
    “Er, yes, my lady. I was in a cavalry regiment.”
    She imagined him on a horse, sword drawn, charging across a foreign battlefield toward the enemy. Her breath caught in her throat again. He didn’t seem to notice. He was regarding her politely, as if the idea had been hers all along.
    “I will be ready to ride out at six. You may inform Mr. Starling, and see that John Coachman has the horses ready.”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    She caught a glimpse of that rogue’s smile of his, and knew if he stayed any longer, she’d be tempted to smile back.
    “That will be all,” she said stiffly.
    The view from behind, she noted as he walked away, was almost as inspiring as the one from the front. She dropped her gaze at once.
    What had gotten into her? She was every bit as bad as Lucy. But she felt a little of the fear lift from her shoulders. Perhaps a ride in the park would not be so bad after all.
    And with Sam by her side, she’d feel safe again.

Chapter 8
    S leepy shadows stretched across the kitchen the next morning when Sinjon glanced at the clock on his way to the stable. He was fifteen minutes early for his appointment with Evelyn Renshaw.
    He corrected himself. Footmen did not make appointments with ladies. They obeyed commands. He grinned. This morning’s ride had been his idea, and his command.
    Not that Evelyn Renshaw was a woman who took orders. If he’d been in a position to wager on it, he’d bet every lady in London would be wearing yellow within a week.
    Except Evelyn.
    He frowned, and wondered if she would find it so easy to resist Eloisa’s plan to find her a lover.
    Sinjon swallowed, and ran a finger under his cravat. Evelyn Renshaw was young, beautiful, and ripe for seduction, and if he could coax a smile from her, a