Beyond Innocence by Emma Holly

Freddie said, recovered from his cough. "Old Edward's made his joke for the quarter. You needn't fear he'll try another until August."
    "Freddie!" said Hypatia, no happier with his jest.
    Despite the duchess's disapproval, Florence felt the heat recede from her cheeks. The brothers' effect on her could not have been more different. Thank goodness for Freddie. His words made her comfortable again: a part of the fun rather than the object of it. When Edward tendered a stiff apology, she was able to accept it with a modicum of dignity.
    "See, Edward," Freddie teased, "not just pretty but forgiving."
    Florence returned his friendly grin. What an agreeable young man, she thought. If he was a sample of what London had on offer, her quest to find a husband would not be hard at all.
    CHAPTER 3
    The following weekwas spent in giving and returning calls. Florence doubted she was "taking," as Aunt Hypatia put it. The blur of faces and names confused her, and she rarely thought of anything to say. How could she? She did not know the people being discussed, nor any more of fashion than Madame Victoire had laid on her back.
    Aunt Hypatia, however, gave every appearance of being pleased.
    "Modest and unassuming," she pronounced as the footman handed them into the carriage after a visit in posh
Park Lane
. With an air of satisfaction, she spread her skirts more comfortably around her, then laughed at Florence 's grimace. "You mustn't fear being dull, my dear. You would only seem awkward if you tried to be gay. The important thing is for people to meet you and see how pretty you are, which they could not fail to do if they were blind."
    Such claims made Florence uncomfortable but, considering how generous the duchess had been and how little else Florence had to offer, she felt she really ought not to complain.
    When she was not engaged with calls, Freddie claimed cousin's privilege to squire her around, taking her riding in the parks or on a boat ride down the Thames . She enjoyed herself immensely, for Freddie was a charming companion, full of witty stories but also drawing her to talk about herself. By the end of the week, he knew more about her than almost anyone alive.
    She had to remind herself the duchess could not mean for her to fix her affections on him. Her nephew would marry an heiress, she decided, one of those laughing Americans, perhaps, who would not make him stand on ceremony.
    "Do you think so?" he said when she shared her theory. He fixed her with an odd, speaking look which, provokingly, did not speak clearly to her.
    They were leaning over the rail of a pleasure boat, chugging westwards from the pool of London . The Victoria Embankment lay ahead, and the bristling brown towers of Parliament. They stood so close they bumped elbows but, as ever, she was comfortable with his touch.
    "You don't like Americans?" she probed, expecting some quip in response.
    Instead, he turned his gaze to a nearby collier. The heavy ship wallowed under its load of coal and Freddie's expression wasn't much lighter. He looked so sad of a sudden Florence 's ribs squeezed tight with pity.
    "I'm fond of English lasses" was all he said. "Pretty ones, with straight dark hair and eyes as green as glass."
    She did not take the implication seriously, not from a flirt like him. No doubt some foolish American had broken bis heart, and that was the source of his pain. But if one had, he did not reveal it. The moment passed and he was soon as bright as ever.
    His brother joined a few of their outings, which was not as unmitigated joy. Florence did not know why, but he seemed to have taken her in dislike. Freddie's claim that his sibling would not venture more than one witticism per quarter seemed to be correct. Not that she wanted to hear more foolish sheep jokes. One had been enough. Still, she hardly thought it necessary that he frown every time he looked at her. She would have been tempted to evade him but for Freddie's obvious delight. He adored his older