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imagine him celebrating his arrival in the adult world in a similar manner.
    To keep the peace with his family, Nicholas had also attended many social gatherings. It was at one of these that he met Miss Annabelle Crompton. She was merely the daughter of a viscount, but what attracted him was her sparkling presence. Blonde, vivacious, and beautiful, she brightened any company, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. Within a week, he was hopelessly in love with her. And she returned his regard, flirting shamelessly with him, affording him the maximum attention allowed by custom.
    They had laughed so often – at the silly affectations of others, at their disapproving parents, at the ridiculous rules society decreed and the equally ridiculous attention they all paid to fashion. He drove her in Hyde Park, danced her through balls, attended opera and theater, and discussed her wish that her mother had not died so young. They agreed on everything. Never had he known anyone whose mind meshed so well with his own.
    Enough! he ordered his head as Lord Geoffrey switched from shooting prospects to the upcoming races. Annabelle was dead these ten years. He would never fall in love again. Deep, abiding love came along but once in a lifetime, if that. He had used his quota on Annabelle. Lady Emily was the wife he wanted now. He needed an heir and a hostess. She would do well. One eye watched as she moved about the room, setting people at their ease and drawing everyone into conversation. She had doubtless absorbed good taste during her growing years. Lady Thorne’s touch was exquisite.
    The drawing room was formally decorated in an unusual mixture of green, blue, and gold. Despite all logic, it worked. And despite an elaborate ceiling whose design was repeated in the carpet, it did not appear cluttered. The furnishings were quietly elegant, providing ample seating without crowding the space. The gilded silk-clad walls served as the ideal backdrop for judiciously selected paintings, statues, vases, and bowls. Adam had obviously had a hand in the styling.
    Lady Emily was engaged in a lively exchange with Mr. Stevens, flirting mildly with the man, though never passing beyond acceptable boundaries. Norwood paid little attention to their conversation until Emily’s voice changed to displeasure.
    “But what can one expect of her?” she demanded sharply. “After all, she’s hardly top drawer. Her only claim to respectability is her grandmother, who was the youngest daughter of a viscount. Her father is only two generations away from trade.”
    “You are cruel, Lady Emily,” Stevens chided softly. “Miss Emerson is an unexceptionable young lady with a delightful sense of humor. I am surprised at your intolerance. Surely someone in your exalted position can afford a little magnanimity.”
    She sniffed. “If those in high positions lowered their standards to that extent, what would be the purpose of proper breeding?”
    “It is better to enjoy life than endure the loneliness of hauteur,” pronounced Stevens, moving on to join another conversation.
    Norwood pondered the boy’s cryptic statement as he continued his discussion with Lord Geoffrey. Optimistic youth. Stevens would soon learn the lessons he himself had already mastered. He had enjoyed life as a young man, harboring all of that optimism and more. It had prompted him to disregard vast differences in station, to ignore the duty he owed his title, and to repudiate his father’s wisdom. And where had it led him?  Straight to hell. At least embracing propriety protected him from making the same mistakes again.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Norwood’s mood was sour. Despite the pretense that the gathering was a shooting party, they were finding precious little game. Thorne’s coverts were practically barren of partridge.
    “He needs a new gamekeeper,” grumbled Lord Geoffrey, tramping along at Norwood’s side. In two hours the two had managed but four birds between them. The other