Knaves' Wager by Loretta Chase

conversation with the clerk, the glint of coins changing hands, the discreet positioning of both the steps and Julian himself. Robert had not been near enough to hear the exchange, unfortunately, or even to observe the widow's expression, until, to his very great surprise, she had thrust his cousin out of her way. Even then, her face had appeared carved from stone.
    Julian, naturally, had not mentioned a word of the matter afterwards. He could be irritatingly inscrutable when he liked. Now, for instance, he conversed with Sidmouth and Eldon as though dreary politics were all he lived for.
    Since there was nothing at present of interest there, Robert looked about him for an acquaintance whose conversation would not put him to sleep.
    He spied two of his Mends, Lord Maddock and Mr. Reginald Ventcoeur, forming part of a court around the species of china doll who appeared every Season under different names. Lord Robert sighed and made for his Mends.
    He was not sure afterwards how it had happened. He remembered being introduced to a pair of eyes the colour of a bright summer sky and a voice as clear and musical as the rippling of a country stream… and the next he .knew, they were dancing.
    Miss Cecily Glenwood was fresh from the schoolroom and country-bred, as she was quick to confess.
    "Now, you must keep a sharp lookout," she warned as the music commenced. "I have had ever so many lessons, but I haven't yet danced in fine company very often, let alone with a sophisticated gentleman. It would be too mortifying for me to trample on your slippers — but even more painful for you, I promise. Rodger reminds me constantly I'm no featherweight."
    "Two feathers," said Robert, amused. "You can't be more. Who is Rodger?"
    "My brother."
    "That explains it. Only a sibling would tell such outrageous fibs."
    "That sounds like the voice of experience," said Miss Glenwood.
    "I'm the youngest of four. I have two elder sisters who tormented me — and still do, even though they have handier victims these days in their husbands."
    "I'm fourth as well. I have a younger sister, but she can be just as provoking as the others. Are you all fair?"
    He nodded.
    "Is it not monotonous?" She coloured. "Oh, dear. I did not mean you were monotonous. You are not at all. At least your eyes are not blue — well, not very. They are more grey than blue."
    Her earnest scrutiny nearly put him out of countenance, but she must have recollected herself, for in a moment her long lashes had lowered demurely over her own brilliant eyes.
    "I suppose you think me dreadfully forward," she said after a moment. "Really, I am not. It is just ignorance. The hay yet sticks to my shoes, I daresay."
    "Not at all, Miss Glenwood," he answered smoothly. "You appear as elegant and sophisticated as any other young lady making her debut."
    She laughed. "Which is to say, not very. But you say it so convincingly I must pretend to be reassured."
    "You can't possibly want reassurance," he said, smiling In return. "When I approached, I thought you'd be smothered in the crowd of gentlemen pressing about you."
    "Yes, and the whole time I was terrified of blurting out The Wrong Thing. My aunt," she explained, "has warned me more than once about my alarming tendency to say precisely what is in my mind."
    "Good heavens! You must never do that in Society. Not unless you mean to throw down civilisation as we know it."
    "I know," she said with a sigh. "Really, I begin to think a Season wasted on me." She glanced quickly about her, then added in an undertone, "You must promise to tell no one, because they will think me ridiculous, but the truth is I am very, very bored."
    "At the start of your first Season? Miss Glenwood, you are more sophisticated than you pretend."
    "Not at all. I am still a child, fin afraid. I want to go to Astley's," she confided, as though this were a heinous depravity, "and to the Tower, and Madame Tussaud's — oh, a hundred places. There is so much to see in London, but