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Edward could not see her clearly, partly because Tresham stood in the way, and partly because almost every lady ahead of him had nodding plumes in her hair.
    He bowed to Lady Palmer and agreed that yes, indeed, they were fortunate to have such a fine evening for the ball considering the rain that had fallen fitfully all morning. His mother smiled and nodded and made a few polite comments of her own, and Lorraine smiled warmly and congratulated Lady Palmer on what already showed the unmistakable promise of being a grand success of an evening.
    Edward inclined his head more stiffly to Tresham, who returned the gesture and spoke briefly and courteously to the two ladies. Amazingly, neither Edward’s mother nor Lorraine seemed to harbor any particular grudge against the man with whom Maurice had been racing when he died. And perhaps they were right. If it had not been Tresham, it would have been someone else. And Tresham had not directly caused the upset. He had overtaken Maurice just before a sharp bend in the road a moment or two earlier and had been safely around the bend and the obstacle beyond it before that obstacle—a large hay cart—and Maurice’s curricle met right on the blindest part of the curve.
    Tresham turned to his right, and Edward and the two ladies turned to their left and an avenue of sight opened up.
    “May I present my sister, Lady Angeline Dudley?” Tresham said.
    Oh, good Lord!
    Edward’s eyes had alit upon her and hers upon him long before her brother had completed the brief introductions.
    She was looking perfectly respectable tonight. She was dressed in a white gown of simple, modest design, which neverthelesshugged her tall, shapely frame in a thoroughly becoming manner. She was standing upright, with perfectly correct posture. She was smiling politely—and then with heightened color in her cheeks and an extra sparkle in her dark eyes.
    She looked more beautiful than ever, though there was nothing delicate about either her features or her coloring.
    Edward was appalled.
    He bowed to her, and she curtsied to all three of them, though she was looking at him—quite fixedly.
    “Lady Angeline,” he murmured.
    Do not say it
, he implored her silently.
    Perhaps she needed no urging, though she had definitely been about to speak to him both at the Rose and Crown and in Hyde Park this morning.
    “Lord Heyward.”
    But of course
, he thought. He had passed Tresham ten minutes away from that inn. Tresham in a
carriage
, which must be rare indeed. Tresham headed away from London just when everyone else was headed toward it. Tresham on the way to meet his sister at the Rose and Crown. The evidence had been there staring him in the face, including the fact that brother and sister looked remarkably alike. He had not made the connection.
    Now he was doomed to dance with her, a lady who did not know how to behave. A Dudley, in fact.
    She was smiling at his mother now and talking with her. The line was stalling behind them. It was time to move into the ballroom.
    “I shall look forward to leading you into the first set, Lady Angeline,” he said.
    Her smile was dazzling. She had perfect teeth.
    “Oh,” she said, “and I shall look forward to it too, Lord Heyward.”
    “It is a pity,” his mother said as they stepped into the ballroom, “that she favors her father’s side of the family rather than her mother’s.”
    “Maybe not, Mother,” Lorraine said. “Looking as she does, she is less likely to find herself compared with the late Duchess of Tresham. That can only be to her advantage, even if the duchess
was
a rare beauty. And she is not unhandsome. What do you think, Edward?”
    “I think she is the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon,” he said and then felt remarkably foolish and chagrined. He had not meant the words the way they had sounded. He did not feel any admiration for the girl. Quite the contrary. It had been a quite objective remark, which had come out making him