“Annabelle, what happened to you?” Lillian asked the next morning. “You look dreadful. Why aren’t you wearing your riding habit? I thought you were going to try out the jumping course this morning. And why did you disappearso suddenly last night? It’s not like you to simply vanish without saying—”“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Annabelle said testily, folding her fingers around the delicate bowl of a porcelain teacup. Looking pale and exhausted, her blue eyes ringed with dark shadows, she swallowed a mouthful of heavily sweetened tea before continuing. “It was that blasted perfume of yours—as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk.”Shocked, Lillian tried to take in the information, her stomach plummeting. “It… it had an effect on Westcliff, then?” she managed to ask.“Good Lord, not Lord Westcliff.” Annabelle rubbed her weary eyes. “He couldn’t have cared less what I smelled like. It was my husband who went completely mad. After he caught the scent of that stuff, he dragged me up to our room and…well, suffice it to say, Mr. Hunt kept me awake all night. All night ,” she repeated in sullen emphasis, and drank deeply of the tea.“Doing what?” Daisy asked blankly.Lillian, who was feeling a rush of relief that Lord Westcliff had not been attracted to Annabelle while shewas wearing the perfume, gave her younger sister a derisive glance. “What do you think they were doing? Playing a few hands of Find-the-Lady?”

“I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face."I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to.""Why--""Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room."It was not a forgone conclusion."Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?""I might have.""I doubt it.""I did just now, didn't I?""You had to. It was a debt of honor."She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?""The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly."Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!""You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach.""You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected.”

“Although Annabelle couldn’t see his face, she heard the note of quiet warning in his voice as he spoke to Westcliff. “We’ll continue our discussion later. Right now I intend to escort Miss Peyton to her room.”“That is not a wise idea, in my opinion,” the earl said.“I’m glad I didn’t ask for it, then,” Simon returned pleasantly.”

“Fear you?" she said without thinking. "Good God, I would never do that."Easing her head back, Westcliff looked at her while a slow smile spread across his face. "No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "You'd spit in the devil's eye if it suited you.”

“As you can see,” Daisy said, “one glass is filled with soap water, one with clear, and one with blue laundry water. The other, of course, is empty. The glasses will predict what kind of man you will marry.”They watched as Evie felt carefully for one of the glasses. Dipping her finger into the soap water, Eviewaited for her blindfold to be drawn off, and viewed the results with chagrin, while the other girls erupted with giggles.“Choosing the soap water means she will marry a poor man,” Daisy explained.Wiping off her fingers, Evie exclaimed good-naturedly, “I s-suppose the fact that I’m going to be m-married at all is a good thing.”The next girl in line waited with an expectant smile as she was blindfolded, and the glasses were repositioned. She felt for the vessels, nearly overturning one, and dipped her fingers into the blue water. Upon viewing her choice, she seemed quite pleased. “The blue water means she’s going to marry a noted author,” Daisy told Lillian. “You try next!”Lillian gaveher a speaking glance. “You don’t really believe in this, do you?”“Oh, don’t be cynical—have some fun!” Daisy took the blindfold and rose on her toes to tie it firmly around Lillian’s head. Bereft of sight, Lillian allowed herself to be guided to the table. She grinned at the encouraging cries of the young women around her. There was the sound of the glasses being moved in front of her, and she waited with her hands half raised in the air. “What happens if I pick the empty glass?” she asked.Evie’s voice came near her ear. “You die a sp-spinster!” she said, and everyone laughed.“No lifting the glasses to test their weight,” someone warned with a giggle. “You can’t avoid the empty glass, if it’s your fate!”“At the moment I want the empty glass,” Lillian replied, causing another round of laughter. Finding the smooth surface of a glass, she slid her fingers up the side and dipped them into the coolliquid. A general round of applause and cheering, and she asked, “Am I marrying an author, too?”“No, you chose the clear water,” Daisy said. “A rich, handsome husband is coming for you, dear!”“Oh, what a relief,” Lillian said flippantly, lowering the blindfold to peek over the edge. “Is it your turnnow?”Her younger sister shook her head. “I was the first to try. I knocked over a glass twice in a row, and made a dreadful mess.”“What does that mean? That you won’t marry at all?”“It means that I’m clumsy,” Daisy replied cheerfully. “Other than that, who knows? Perhaps my fate hasyet to be decided. The good news is that your husband seems to be on the way.”“If so, the bastard is late,” Lillian retorted, causing Daisy and Evie to laugh.”

“Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you.”Evie choked a little and didn’t dare look up from her tea. “Wh-why does he think that?”“He’s known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent’s heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to…hmm, how did he put it?…I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like… you would appeal to St. Vincent’s deepest, most secret fantasy.” Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. “I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible.”A grin crossed Lillian’s lips. “Dear, that is not St. Vincent’s fantasy, it’s his reality. And you’re probably the first sweet, decent girl he’s ever had anything to do with.”

“Upon seeing Evie, her friends rushed toward her with unladylike squeals, and Evie let out her own laughing shriek as they collided in a circle of tightly hugging arms and exuberant kisses. In their shared excitement, the three young women continued to exclaim and scream, until someone burst into the room.It was Cam, his eyes wide, his breathing fast, as if he had come at a dead run. His alert gaze flashed across the room, taking in the situation. Slowly his lean frame relaxed. "Damn," he muttered. "I thought something was wrong.""Everything is fine, Cam," Evie said with a smile, while Annabelle kept an arm around her shoulders. "My friends are here, that's all."Glancing at Sebastian, Cam remarked sourly, "I've heard less noise form the hogs at slaughter time."There was a sudden suspicious tension around Sebastian's jaw, as if he were fighting to suppress a grin. "Mrs. Hunt, Miss Bowman, this is Mr. Rohan. You must pardon his lack of tact, as he is...""A ruffian?" Daisy suggested innocently.This time Sebastian could not prevent a smile. "I was going to say 'unused to the presence of ladies at the club.'""Is that what the are?" Cam asked, casting a dubious glance at the visitors, his attention lingering for a moment on Daisy's small face.Pointedly ignoring Cam, Daisy spoke to Annabelle. "I've always heard that Gypsies are known for their charm. An unfounded myth, it seems."Cam's golden eyes narrowed into tigerish slits.”