Breathing out, Daphne Burnham smoothed her satin white gloves over her fingers and then reached up to touch the cool creamy pearls around her neck. She faced the mirror and wrinkled her nose at the white gown she wore. It was well made, of course, and had tiny red roses embroidered along the hem and bodice.

Beautiful, but exactly like what every other young lady would be wearing.

"Is there a problem, Miss Burnham?"

"No. I'm sure I look exactly as I ought to look," Daphne said, barely even glancing at the maid. "Thank you for your assistance, Mary."

In the mirror, she saw the woman raise an eyebrow. Mary, however, held her silence and began to gather up the day dress Daphne had changed out of. The robin's egg blue was a pale color, but at least it was that: a color.

Every other young lady would be in white, even if it wasn't a flattering color. Fashion dictated an unmarried girl just stepping foot into society wear the same bland, uninteresting color. White. White. White.

At least on other occasions, like while walking or staying at home, Daphne could wear something other than white fabric.

"Are you ready?"

Daphne turned at the sound of her oldest sister's voice. "Yes, of course, Genie," she said, forcing a smile. She held her arms out and spun around slowly. "How do I look?"
Eugenia Landon smiled at her. "You look lovely, Daphne. Just as a young lady ought to look."

Resisting the urge to scowl, Daphne snatched up her reticule and fan from her dressing table. Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Eugenia frowned at her. "Is there something of your appearance that dissatisfies you?" she asked.

"Of course not," Daphne said swiftly. After all, her sister was the one sponsoring her debut into society and had helped her choose the gown. "I am perfectly satisfied with everything. Shall we go?"

Instead of stepping out, Eugenia remained where she was. She tilted her head. "We have a few minutes before my husband becomes impatient. If something is not to your liking, Daphne, you must tell me. I am not Mama and will not force you to wear anything you do not wish."

For a moment, Daphne studied the sincerity on her sister's face. How many years had it been since Eugenia had been the one going in society? Five years? Had Mama made her wear anything terrible?

"Mama has a fondness for feathers and lace and pink," Eugenia said, her tone tinged with amusement. "She never did grasp the fact that such things are fine in moderation, and are not always flattering to a person."

"Yes, I know." There had been a few occasions when Daphne had gone shopping with her mother. It had only been the modiste, who had been highly recommended, that had kept Daphne's wardrobe from being embarrassing. "Truly, Genie, everything is fine. We should go down."

But still, her sister didn't move. "Well done, Mary," she said, nodding at the maid. "Your talents only continue to grow."

Mary ducked her head, but not before Daphne saw the blush on her cheeks. "Thank you, ma'am," the maid said before hurrying out of the room.

"Now we may speak honestly with each other," Eugenia said with satisfaction. "I adore Mary, but there are times I long for the straightforward advice Nelson gave me so long ago."

It took Daphne a moment to remember the maid who had been employed by her mother for a matter of months. "Nelson? Wasn't she turned out?" What she remembered was a no-nonsense young woman who hadn't been amused by the pranks she and Callie had devised. Beyond that, the lady's maid had been with them such a short time, Daphne couldn't think of anything remarkable about her.

"It wasn't her fault," Eugenia said, shaking her head. "Long story short, she learned Father's old valet was stealing papers from him to sell to the French. It was for her own sake that she left."

Dumbfounded, Daphne stared at her. That made little sense. Shaking her head, she decided to leave the subject alone. "Well, if you thought she was so excellent, why didn't you hire her after you married Mr. Landon?"

"Mary had served me well, and Nelson...well, she practically vanished once she left our parents' house," Eugenia said, a note of resignation creeping into her voice. "I tried to find her once, several years ago, but it was like she never existed." She shook her head. "We've gotten away from the point. You don't like your dress."

"I don't dislike it," Daphne said quickly. "It's lovely, Genie. It really is. I was there when we decided on the fabric and the design, remember? I said it would be beautiful then, and I meant it. I mean it now. Can we go?"

Eugenia heaved a sigh. "Yes. Fine. Gerard will be wondering what is taking us so long."

Daphne linked arms with her sister. "We shall tell him you were calming my nerves. After all, this is the first ball I've ever attended."

"You? Nervous? That would be doing it too brown, Daphne, and well you know it."

Forcing another laugh, Daphne was glad she had kept her misgivings to herself. After all, wasn't the appearance of being at ease just as good as ease itself? "Well, I have every intention of dancing until dawn," she said with more confidence than she felt. "You will introduce me to every eligible gentleman you know, won't you?"

"As that is the point of why Mama has put you in my care, of course, I will."

"That did surprise me," Daphne admitted as they approached the staircase. "After all, didn't you and Calliope make good matches under Mama's care? Why am I singled out to be sponsored by someone other than my mother?"

"I think Mama is tired. And you know she hoped Callie would make a more advantageous match."

In a flash, Daphne realized the truth. "Callie was the beauty of the family. Mama pinned all her hopes on Callie making the best marriage, and now that it is my turn, she doesn't think it worth it."

They were almost to the bottom and Mr. Landon was waiting in the hall for them. Still, Eugenia stopped and grabbed Daphne's arm, making her halt as well. "You know that is not true at all. Calliope is lovely, but so are you. I will not have you thinking yourself unworthy. You are a gentleman's daughter, entitled the consideration, respect, and advantages of any other young lady."

"Is something wrong, ladies?" Mr. Landon asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"Not at all," Eugenia said, turning to face him. A soft smile curved her lips. "I just thought of one last piece of advice to share with my sister but now we are ready to go."

Pausing a moment longer, Daphne watched Eugenia descend to meet her husband. She'd known her oldest sister had married for love, and of course, the gentleman's wealth had made him acceptable to their mother. Calliope had also married for love, only her choice had been a young physician. Thankfully, Richard Drake had inherited a small fortune, which again made Mrs. Burnham accept him.

Where did that leave Daphne, though? Had her mother given up on her daughters making a good match, even before Daphne had stepped foot in society? Is that why she had been sent to Eugenia?

"Come along, Daphne," Eugenia said, looking up at her. "I know you want to make an impression by arriving late, but we don't want to wait all night."

"Of course. I'm coming." Daphne forced her unpleasant thoughts away. Whatever her mother intended, Daphne wanted only to enjoy herself. If she met someone interesting enough to marry, so be it.

However, she wasn't going to hold her breath.

****

It felt as though the carriage ride to the Stanhope ball took an hour. The street was choked with other carriages, other guests all bound for the same destination. "We could have walked and been their faster," Daphne said impatiently. The longer she sat in the vehicle, the more her nerves made her stomach twist.

"That's true, but hardly the done thing, Daphne," her brother-in-law said from where he sat across from her and Eugenia. "Don't worry. You will have plenty of time to enjoy yourself tonight. You just have to be patient."

Clenching her jaw to keep from sticking out her tongue, Daphne drummed her fingers in her lap. Didn't he realize the wait was agonizing? She would much rather have her entrance over with, so she could concentrate on meeting partners to dance with.

She did so love to dance. It was the one thing she excelled at. Oh, she could dutifully perform a tune on the pianoforte if necessary and even sing a bit. But no governess had ever inspired her as the dancing master she had shared with her sister.

It wasn't that Signore Romano had been heartstopping handsome, which he had. It was that dancing was an excellent outlet for Daphne's energy. Walking, riding―when she could do so―, and anything else easily bored her.

Dancing, on the other hand, was fun and she was certain even if her partner was as dull as could be, she would enjoy herself.

"You decided not to cut your hair, I see," Mr. Landon said, his tone amused. "Eugenia had me convinced it was your dearest wish."

"Oh, no!" Daphne said immediately. He couldn't possibly have thought Eugenia meant such a thing. "It is not quite the fashion anymore." She paused. Eugenia kept her hair short, a la Titus, and had since before her marriage. "In all honesty, I don't think it would look as well on me as it does on Genie."

"I heartily agree with you, though I suppose I am biased." Mr. Landon smiled at his wife. "Everything looks beautiful on her."

Daphne was both amused and embarrassed by the blatant flirting. They were married for goodness sake and had been for several years. Why must they act like two lovesick newlyweds?

"You may relax, Daphne, for I believe we are almost there," Eugenia said, turning her attention to the window.

In spite of Eugenia's hopeful statement, it was another ten minutes before they disembarked. Gallantly, Mr. Landon held both arms out for the ladies to take. Other guests entered ahead of them, and more pressed close behind them.

Already their host and hostess had moved away from greeting those in the hall. Breathing out, Daphne entered the ballroom with relief. Immediately, she regretted her lack of stature. It seemed any and every one of consequence had been invited and turned up for the event. All she could see, though, were people's backs.

Granted, this afforded her the opportunity to see details of the ladies' dresses: lace, ribbons, and embroidery of all colors and patterns. She also had a fine view of how each ladies' hair was arranged: some bandeaux The gentlemen's backs, however, were all the same: black superfine jackets.

Somewhere in the room, musicians were playing. Daphne could vaguely hear the strains of a melody over the din of conversation and laughter. The dancing must have already begun and she longed to see what was happening. Of course, she especially wished to be among the dancers.

"Daphne, come along," Eugenia said to her. "I see a dear friend you must meet."

"Why 'must' I meet this person?" Daphne asked. Would it be too much to hope the person was a gentleman who would ask her to dance?

"Because she is an old family friend and you will like her," Eugenia said over her shoulder as she led the way. "Mrs. Harper knows all the right people and I don't think there is a single thing she doesn't know or cannot find out about...well, about everything really."

So, not a gentleman then, but someone who could make the right introductions? However, the notion that this woman knew everything about everything was rather alarming. "She sounds terrifying."

If Eugenia heard, she ignored Daphne's words. As Daphne followed her sister, she tried to find a face―any face at all―that was even remotely familiar. Everything seemed a blue, and then they stopped.

"Mrs. Harper, how lovely to see you this evening," Eugenia said, genuine fondness in her voice. "I wasn't sure whether you and your husband would be here tonight."

"Mrs. Landon, I am delighted to see you looking so well." Mrs. Harper was oddly unremarkable. She was taller than Daphne, which was no surprise, and slender. Her brown eyes had a glint of intelligence and humor in them. "This must be your younger sister."

"May I present, Daphne Burnham," Eugenia said, making the proper introduction. "Daphne, this is Mrs. Oswyn Harper. You might remember her from when we were children and we would stay in the country with her family: Juliet Sinclair."

The name was vaguely familiar as was her face, but Daphne couldn't [in down a specific memory. "I am pleased to meet you, ma'am," she said, making the correct curtsy.

"And I you, Miss Burnham," Mrs. Harper said with a smile. It was almost as though the woman were laughing. "You've grown into a lovely young lady since I last saw you."

"Thank you, ma'am." Were they really going to stand here and talk about how much Daphne had grown? She wouldn't have thought this fashionable woman would discuss something a grandmother or elderly lady might bring up.

Mrs. Harper smiled at her. "And now you are old enough to be out in society. Are you enjoying your first ball?"

"Well, I haven't danced yet, and we haven't been here for more than half an hour at the most," Daphne said honestly, "so I really cannot say. I like to think I will enjoy myself when I have had the time."

Mrs. Harper laughed. "Yes, I'm sure you will. Do you know anyone here?"

"Daphne has a few friends who are also making their debuts in society," Eugenia said for her youngest sister. "Aside from that, she doesn't know anyone here."

"Then, permit me to introduce you to someone who I know will invite you to dance." Mrs. Harper's eyes scanned the room and then she unfurled her silk fan. "Ah, yes. There he is."

Fascinated, Daphne watched as Mrs. Harper raised her fan in front of her face for a brief moment and then casually waved it. Of course, Daphne knew entire conversations could be had using the accessory, but had never seen it done before.

"I assume I will approve?" Eugenia asked with a smile.

"Of course."

Minutes later, a tall gentleman dressed in black with a rather bright blue waistcoat was before them. "Mrs. Harper, you are looking as lovely as ever," he said, bowing before them. His brown eyes were bright with laughter. "What service can I do for you?"

"Sir Arthur, I would like you to meet a young friend of mine," Mrs. Harper said, gesturing to Daphne. "Miss Daphne Burnham, this is Sir Arthur Castleton. Sir Arthur, Miss Burnham. This is her first ball."

"Delighted," Sir Arthur said with enthusiasm. "Any friend of the Harpers is a friend of mine. Dare I hope you have a space on your dance card, Miss Burnham? The next dance is about to begin."

"I would love to dance," Daphne said eagerly. She remembered a moment later to glance at her sister. "If it is alright with you, Eugenia?"

Her sister was smiling. "Of course. Enjoy yourself."

Sir Arthur held his arm out to her. "Then, permit me to escort you."

Delighted, Daphne placed her arm on his elbow and allowed him to guide her to where the next set was forming. Could there be a better start to a ball?

****

At the end of her dance with Sir Arthur, who was kind but older than Daphne was interested in, she then danced with set with a young man the baronet introduced her to. She beamed with happiness as she spent more time on the dance floor than along the wall.

After two hours, she curtsied to her partner―and she could not remember his name―and thanked him for the dance. He escorted her to where Eugenia stood with other chaperones. He then offered bow and was gone, presumably to locate his next partner.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes. How could I not?" Daphne waved her fan in front of her face, feeling flushed and energized from the dancing. A trickle of sweat ran down her back and she hoped she was not ruining the dress with her exertions.

"Has any gentleman caught your eye?" Eugenia asked, failing to sound casual.

Surprised and displeased by the question, Daphne narrowed her eyes. "No, not especially. Everyone I have met has been kind but one has been very much like the next." Polite, conversant in gossip, and utterly boring. "Why do you ask?"

"Even Sir Arthur?"

"He was kind and I enjoyed our dance, but nothing more than that. He must be older than you, Genie. I am convinced I saw the start of grey hair."

Her sister shook her head. "He is not as old as that, Daphne. He might―and I emphasize might―be just the other side of thirty, but he could hardly be considered old."

"Again, why do you ask?"

"You do know I first saw my husband at a ball such as this," Eugenia said with a smile.

Daphne did know. "Yes, but what has that to do with anything?" She knew it would be easier on her sister if she were to make a match early in the season. However, Daphne wanted to have fun before she settled down to being a wife and mother.

Why rush into one confining situation when she'd just escaped the prison the schoolroom had been?

Eugenia raised her hands in a placating way. "It was only a question. I meant nothing by it. Mama will ask, though, when you return home tomorrow."

Resisting the urge to scowl, Daphne nodded. "True. But you make it sound as though tonight were my only chance at meeting someone interesting." And it really wasn't far that she would have to spend half her time with Eugenia, but the rest of her time at her mother's house.

"Your partners have not entertained you?"

With the flick of her wrist, Daphne closed her fan. I am enjoying myself, Genie. Let us leave it at that." She turned to the dancers and wished she could have been with them instead of being interrogated by her sister.

"And I'm glad of it," Eugenia said softly, just loud enough for Daphne to hear. "But you must understand that you need to have some thought to your future. Not just enjoying yourself at the moment."

What did her sister know? Being the last at home had been agony and tedious. Daphne had been the only one left to listen to her mother's complaints. The knowledge she would be able to dance and have fun was all that had made it endurable.

"I see Mary Trent," Daphne said, spotting one of her friends. "I would like to speak to her. You don't have to join me."

"Very well. Come straight back."

Relieved to escape her sister, Daphne set off along the side of the ballroom. The shifting guests concealed her friend from sight, and she hoped Mary would be in the same spot. She stepped around an elderly pair of women who were intent on their conversation.

And that is when disaster struck.

It happened so fast it was a blur. A gentleman turned in front of her, a full glass in his hand. He stumbled and Daphne gasped as the dark wine went down the front of her white gown. She stared in horror at the instant stain.

"Oh, I'm sorry." A man―a young man―said from nearby. "I didn't see you there."

Slowly, Daphne lifted her gaze. A fair-haired man who looked to be a few years older than herself was in front of her. The glass was still in his hand, though there was only a little bit of liquid left in it.

Around them swept gasps and titters of amusement as more and more people became aware of what had happened. "You―" Daphne struggled to find the words. What could she say? It was obvious what he had done, intentional or not. "You―"

To her great annoyance, the corners of his mouth quirked up as though he wished to laugh. "Do you find this funny?" she asked, her horror giving way to anger. What could he possibly find amusing about what he'd just done to her?

"If you could only see what you look like!" He, whoever he was, held his arms out to the side stiffly. "You could pass for a scarecrow."

A few of the nearby gentlemen overheard and chuckled. Face flushing, Daphne let her arms drop. "A scarecrow?" she repeated.

"A well-dressed scarecrow," he was quick to say.

There was another round of laughter. No one had come to Daphne's aid, or offered to help her. All the fun she had been having was ruined. With no regard for consequences or desire to behave like a lady, Daphne straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.

"How dare you?"

The man stopped laughing, his idiotic grin fading from his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"And well you should!" Daphne gestured at the stain. "You see what you have done? And all you can do is stand there and laugh like an imbecile? Do you think I can simply find a small room and somehow, magically, repair the damage?"

"I said I was sorry," he said defensively. "I am not an imbecile. You did play some part, you know. You ran into―"

"I did no such thing! And no true gentleman would dare suggest a lady take the blame for this!"

It was, without a doubt, not Daphne's finest hour. It didn't matter that she hadn't been overly fond of the gown in the first place. This man had ruined her evening and was amused by the situation.

"What did you say?"

"You. Are. No. Gentleman." Daphne enunciated each word so that she would not be misunderstood.

Out of nowhere, an arm came around Daphne's shoulders. Startled, Daphne tried to pull away from whoever had come up behind her. "Come, sister," Eugenia said, her tone urgent. "We should get you home."

"And I am a gentleman!" the young man said, his eyes not wavering from Daphne's.

"Well, you certainly are not making an excellent impression of one," Daphne said sharply even as her sister turned her.

There was more laughter. "Daphne!" Eugenia said, her tone appalled. "That is more than enough. Gerard has gone to have the carriage brought around. Come along."

Cheeks burning from a combination of anger and humiliation, Daphne allowed her sister to rush her from the ballroom. In the hall, they had to wait for their warps and for the carriage to be brought around.

"Oh, Daphne," Eugenia said, surveying the damage. "I'd hoped you would make a splash, but not like this."

"This was not my fault. If you could have seen what happened or how he treated me! Did you hear what he said?"

Eugenia raised her hand. "I am not blaming you for what happened. Accidents occur all too easily in a crush."

"You cannot excuse his rudeness in laughing at me!"

"Of course I am not." Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose. Relief filled her expression as her husband approached. "Is the carriage ready?"

"It is." Mr. Landon shook his head as he glanced at Daphne. "I'm sorry your first ball has ended like this, Miss Daphne. The ballroom can be a treacherous place at times, but I didn't think to warn you about the wine."

"Perhaps you should have warned me about young men who cannot keep ahold of their drink and then try to pass the blame onto someone else," Daphne said. She knew she shouldn't be taking her annoyance out on her brother-in-law but couldn't help herself.

Lady Stanhope hurried towards them, followed by a maid holding their wraps. "Ph, my dears, I just heard what happened," the middle-aged woman exclaimed. She focused on Daphne. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. I will be giving his lordship an earful, you can be sure of it."

Reaching out to take her cape, Daphne paused. "His lordship?"

"Yes, Daphne," Mr. Landon said with a great deal of patience. "The young man was Alexander Temple, Viscount Stafford."

"I understand you and his lordship exchanged words over the incident," Lady Stanhope said, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Well done, my girl. Some of these young lords, just come into a title, think they ought to be allowed all manner of behavior. It is appalling, it really is."

A viscount? Daphne had accused a viscount of not being a gentleman. The urge to giggle swept over her. What would her mother say when she found out? Well, viscount or not, he'd been rude and deserved exactly what she'd said to him!

"Thank you, your ladyship," Eugenia said, her tone strangled. "I think we must get my sister home now."

"Of course, of course!"

Daphne allowed her brother-in-law to help her with her cape. She pulled the folds of material in front of her and held them as a way of hiding the stain from view. It was a relief to hurry to the carriage and be well away from the scene of her humiliation.

****

"To be honest, Miss, I will do what I can, but I don't that anything can save it." The young lady's maid looked at her anxiously.

Dressed in her nightgown, Daphne hugged a pillow to her chest. Her temper had cooled since she'd changed out of the stained garment. "If that's how it must be, fine," she said. "I would prefer not to even see that gown again. Dispose of it however you wish."

The maid's anxious expression shifted to shock as her eyebrows rose. "Dispose of it, miss?" Mary said, her tone cautious. "You want I should give it away? Or perhaps add it to your sewing basket with other scraps of fabric?"

"I don't care. I just don't want to see it again." Which, Daphne had to admit to herself, was a waste. The evening gown had cost Eugenia—Mr. Ladon, actually, if she was being specific— and to throw it out seemed ungrateful. "No. Wait. There must be something we can do with it."

She stared at the gown. Mary had already tried to blot the stain out, but it had remained, although the color had faded a little. It was such a pretty color, definitely preferable to white or pastels. "Do you suppose it would look off if we were to dye the dress?'

"Dye it?" Mary's eyebrows could not go any higher.

"Yes. Dye it." Daphne straightened as she considered it. "Find a color similar to the wine and dye the whole thing. It could work, don't you think?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't know, Miss. I've never dyed anything before. You want me to try?"

The idea of the dress in a rich red hue had caught Daphne's fancy. Not scarlet red, of course. More a deep burgundy. "Yes. It would be better to at least make an attempt to make something of the dress before throwing it out."

Mary's nose wrinkled just a bit. "Yes, miss. I'll do what I can," is all she said. She curtsied and then hurried out of the room with the dress.

Heaving a sigh, Daphne leaned back against the headrest. What a disaster the evening had been! And in front of so many people...

"I will never live this down," Daphne groaned, closing her eyes.

In her mind's eye, she could see the wine splashing down the front of her dress all over again. She was certain all would remember her as the lady who had stained her gown with wine. No thought would be given to the gentleman who had caused the incident in the first place. The blame would rest on her shoulders.

She could almost hear the laughter in the young man's voice and gritted her teeth. There was nothing funny about what had happened. And if she had been witness to another young lady faced with such misfortune, she would not have laughed.

Well...Daphne let her shoulders slump with a sigh. If she were being perfectly honest, she may have laughed a little.

And then she'd told a viscount he wasn't a gentleman!

"I cannot tell Mama," Daphne whispered. Nevermind she didn't regret what she'd said. Lord Stafford had deserved every scathing word and more! But her mother wouldn't see it that way.

Even her own sister hadn't seen matters as Daphne did. Of course, Eugenia had been appalled by the situation and had come to Daphne's rescue, but she hadn't appreciated what Daphne had said to Lord Stafford. In fact, Daphne would guess her sister had rushed her away to keep her from saying more.

"I doubt Callie had such trouble when she had her season."

If only Calliope wasn't confined to her house with her first child. She would have been the first to agree Daphne had done the right thing.

Sighing, Daphne put her pillow back in the right place. Thinking about it wasn't going to change what had happened. She leaned over and blew out her candle. As she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, a terrible realization occurred.

"I hope I'm not going to see him everywhere I go from now on!"

****

In the morning—well, it was closer to noon than not—, Daphne chose to break her fast in bed. She'd not gotten as much rest as she would have liked, and knew she still had an at-home with Eugenia before she returned to her parents' townhouse.

Finally, dressed in a pale green morning gown, Daphne made her way down to the drawing room. Eugenia was already there, sitting at a small desk and writing letters. "There you are," she said without even looking over. "I hoped you would be up before anyone arrived."

"I was thinking," Daphne said, choosing her words with care. "No one will care whether I'm with you this afternoon or not. Mama will want to hear about the ball, so I should go home now."

"Absolutely not." Eugenia signed her letter and then dusted the paper with sand. "I will not have it said you were afraid of scandal."

"I'm not afraid of scandal, but I still think—"

"You may think what you will, but I am not having the carriage brought around until after our visitors leave."

Daphne huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't need the carriage. I could just walk home."

Eugenia faced her, her expression serious. "Of course. But if you do so, I will know you are afraid of facing society. And then society will say you are a temperamental young woman, and your season will be ruined before it has even started."

Why did her sister have to be so right?

"Fine." Daphne collapsed into the chaise longue. "But I want you to know just because I don't want to add to rumor, I'm not afraid of society."

"If you were wise, you would be," Eugenia said with absolute seriousness. "You don't seem to realize what a hastily spoken word or a thoughtless action can do to a lady's reputation. In an instant, she can lose all respect."

Warily, Daphne stared at her sister. "And you think that's what has happened?"

With a sigh, Eugenia stood up and walked over to join her. "Not necessarily, but you must admit that the way you reacted to Lord Stafford last night could have been handled better."

"He dumped a glass of wine down the front of my dress. What was I supposed to do?" Daphne asked, annoyed to even be having the conversation. "Should I have curtsied and said, 'So sorry, my lord. How clumsy of me to be in your way. Please, do forgive me.'"

"For a start, not accusing him of not being a gentleman would have been a good start."

"A gentleman would have apologized for what he did, intentional or not."

Eugenia sighed again. "Well, at least you admit he did not intend to ruin your dress."

"Why aren't you more upset?" Daphne asked. "You bought me that dress. We spent a great deal of time on the details. All for it to be destroyed in a single moment."

"In the end, Daphne, it is just a dress. A lovely dress, yes, but not one that cannot be replaced." Eugenia raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I was under the impression you were not that enamored with the gown."

Daphne thought of her instructions to salvage the gown but held her silence since she wasn't sure the plan would work. "My feelings on the dress are not important. What is important was that he laughed about it all."

"Is that what has you in such a temper? Lord Stafford was amused?" Eugenia asked, her tone bemused.

"What gentleman laughs when he causes a lady distress, whether he meant to or not?"

Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose. "That does not give you leave to insult him."

"Well, it would appear we cannot agree on this subject," Daphne said, tiring of defending herself. She wasn't sorry for what she had said and nothing her sister said would make her sorry. "Why don't we change the subject? Hasn't the weather been lovely this past week?"

"That's what you want to talk about? The weather."

Shrugging her shoulders, though she knew it was unladylike, Daphne leaned back. "What else is there to talk about? We weren't at the ball long enough for us to hear anything of importance. How about this: are we expecting anyone important this afternoon?"

"Daphne, you spent nearly two hours dancing. Do you think I stood along the wall the whole time, intently watching you to make sure you behave with propriety?"

"I did behave with propriety!"

"Yes. Right up to the moment when your feelings were hurt and then you abandoned all of your manners."

Narrowing her eyes, Daphne crossed her arms. "You may be responsible for me this season, Genie, but you are not my mother."

"Be glad of that. I shudder to think what our mother will have to say on the matter when she finds out what happened."

There was always the chance her mother would be too tired or occupied with the state of her nerves to even care. Daphne, however, kept the thought to herself. "What if someone visits her this afternoon and tells her everything?" she asked. "Shouldn't I go home and tell her before anyone has the chance?"

"Today is not Mama's day for making or receiving visits. And if she does learn of it, somehow, it is no more than you deserve for being rude. You know better. Mama knows you know better."

Huffing at her sister's words, Daphne stood up. Her determination to leave the subject forgotten as she searched for some way to defend her actions that her sister would accept. "The situation called for it."

Eugenia held up her hand. "I understand your reasons and, if I had your temperament, I might have done the same. The problem is you don't seem to comprehend the damage you could do to your chances by such behavior. Who will wish to marry a sharp-tongued young woman?"

"I am not always sharp-tongued!"

"No, but that is the only impression you have given society."

Her fault. Daphne had known the blame would be pointed at her but hadn't expected it from her sister. "Well, I suppose it is a good thing I will be returning to our parents' house today since I am such a disgrace."

"That is not what I said, Daphne. Please do not exaggerate or take my words out of context."

However the conversation would have gone, they were interrupted by the door opening. "Mrs. Edwards, ma'am," the butler announced with cool formality. "With Miss Edwards."

"This isn't over," Eugenia said as she stood up. And then a pleasant smile was on her face as their first visitors of the day entered. "Mrs. Edwards, Miss Edwards. It's so good to see you."

"Mrs. Landon, tell me what I've heard isn't so!" the tall, slender woman exclaimed as she hurried forward. "Did your sister—oh, hello, Miss Burnham—really insult a duke?"

"A duke?" Daphne repeated as she curtsied. "Oh, no, Mrs. Edwards. That isn't what—"

"What my sister means to say is what happened last night was an unfortunate misunderstanding between herself and Lord Stafford," Eugenia said, interrupting her. "Please. Sit down."

"You must tell us everything," Mrs. Edwards said as she and her daughter sat down.

With a sigh, Daphne resigned herself to an agonizing afternoon.

****

Two hours passed. Every lady who arrived exclaimed their distress over the rumors they had heard. The situation had been blown out of proportion. With each telling, there were new, false details, from different gentleman being involved to Daphne being intoxicated. Each matron reveled in the telling, while her daughter stared at Daphne with open curiosity.

Most seemed disappointed when Eugenia dismissed it as a misunderstanding. It was clear not everyone believed what they were told. Though it all, Daphne sat with a smile on her face, keeping her true thoughts to herself.

It was only when her friend Miss Trent arrived that Daphne felt she could be herself. "It is more than vexing, " she said when she and her friend sat to the side. "Oh, Miss Trent, if you could only hear the things people have said!"

"I'm so sorry I could not have been by your side to help you," Miss Trent said, grasping Daphne's hand. "I heard a commotion, but it wasn't until after you had left that I heard. Your poor dress! It looked so lovely on you."

"Yes, yes." Daphne waved her hand. She hadn't loved the dress, however much she regretted its ruination. "But it was his attitude, Miss Trent. Lord Stafford laughed. It was terrible."

"My poor friend." Miss Trent pressed her hand once more before withdrawing her own hand. "I knew I couldn't believe everything I'd heard. How awkward it will be for you to see him around town now. Whatever will you do?"
"If he is any kind of gentleman, it is he who will feel the awkwardness," Daphne said stiffly. As though she ought to be ashamed of what she'd said and done! "He is at fault."

Miss Trent raised an eyebrow. "It is unfortunate this had to occur your first night out," she said, her tone sympathetic. "Why, I don't know what I would do in your position! My mama would no doubt send me to my great-aunt's house in the country."

"Well, I have no great-aunt in the country, so there is no danger of that." Daphne sighed and shook her head. "I'm sure there will be some scandal that will capture everyone's attention."

"That's always a possibility." Miss Trent's voice had a note of disbelief

"Could we talk of something else?" Daphne asked as the door opened. She saw him before anyone else in the room did. How dare Lord Stafford come here? Why was he smiling as if nothing untoward had occurred the night before, as if nothing was wrong? As if he hadn't humiliated her?

"Is there something wrong, Miss Burnham?" Miss Trent asked, twisting around. "Oh! Is that him?"

"Yes," Daphne said through clenched teeth. "Yes, it is."

"Well, I'd heard he was a handsome man, but I didn't think he was this handsome," Miss Trent said, her tone filled with interest. "Do you think he will come this way?"

"If he has any notion of what attending a lady's at-home involves, I'm sure he will." Daphne forced herself to look away as the odious man approached her sister. "Why would he come today? How did he even know where to find me?"

Miss Trent raised an eyebrow. "He could have asked any number of people. In fact, I saw him in close conversation with your sister's friend, Mrs. Harper, at one point in the evening. I wouldn't be surprised to learn she told him."

Right. The woman who knew so much about society. "But why would he come?"

"Does it matter? This is such a coup for your sister." Miss Trent didn't even try to hide the fact she was watching the man as he acknowledged the other ladies in the room. "From what I've heard, he seldom makes visits such as this."

So, he'd singled them out. He must have a reason. Daphne narrowed her eyes as she thought. Was he looking for a way to retaliate for her words the previous evening or to cause trouble? Was he going to apologize for his actions?

"Miss Burnham, you are positively glaring at him."

At Miss Trent's whisper, Daphne tried to relax her face with a smile. "You were telling me about your dance with Mr. Dunbar, were you not? You did not care for the man."

"I did not," Miss Trent said, though she kept glancing across the room. "I would not have been surprised to learn he was feeling the effects of too much wine. Aren't you going to greet Lord Stafford?"

"Who introduced you to Mr. Dunbar?" Daphne asked, ignoring the question. She really was interested in hearing more about how her friend intended on handling an unwanted acquaintance. "How will you avoid him in the future? Give him the cut direct?"

Before she could get any more information from her friend, he was in front of her. Manners, ingrained in her by the many governesses who had been tasked with responsibility, made her rise and make her curtsy. "Miss Burnham," Lord Stafford said, offering a low bow. "I I trust I find you well today?"

Mentally reminding herself that she wasn't allowed to kick his ankle or say anything that would embarrass her sister, Daphne forced a smile. "I am always well, Lord Stafford." She kept her fisted hands hidden in her skirts. "Thank you for asking."

Was she committing some faux pas since they hadn't technically been introduced? She only knew his name because she'd been told. Somehow, he'd learned her name and where she was staying. Did that mean a formal introduction wasn't necessary? What if someone found out? Would that mean trouble?

Around them, conversation rose and fell with normal cadence. Daphne was aware of her sister's scrutiny, watching for any sign Daphne was about to lose her temper or was anything less than courteous.

"You do realize we haven't been introduced," she said, deciding to face the issue head-on. "You shouldn't technically be speaking to me."

"True," he said with an easy smile. "But our introduction could be said to be an unconventional one. After all, what is an introduction between two who have already exchanged insults?"

Was he trying to make light of what had happened? He hadn't even apologized! Was Daphne supposed to put the matter in the past and move on as though nothing had happened?

"And who is your lovely companion?" Lord Stafford asked, glancing to the side. "You must introduce us."

For a moment, Daphne considered refusing. Why should she make an introduction when she hadn't had one? But...she considered her friend's eager expression. It would be an effective way of getting the man out of her view.

"Of course. Lord Stafford, this is my dear friend, Miss Trent," Daphne said, gesturing to the other young lady. "Miss Trent, this is Lord Stafford."

Miss Trent curtsied, delight in her eyes. "I am honored, my lord," she said with a giggle.

"Likewise," Lord Stafford said, without a giggle.

But they didn't step aside for more conversation. The pair of them just stood there and exchanged remarks about the weather (it was a bit cool), and then observations about the ball. With each word, Daphne could feel her smile becoming more and more brittle.

"I must say, I am glad to find you in better humor today," Lord Stafford said, turning towards her once again.

"Better humor?" Daphne repeated, amazed at his temerity.

"Well, yes. You must admit you were not in the best of tempers when we first met."

All determination to remain civil and polite vanished. "I think any lady would be in poor humor when her dress was destroyed by a careless man."

"Oh, no!" Miss Trent gasped. "You cannot mean that, Miss Burnham! What happened was a terrible tragedy, of course, but such things must happen in every crush. There is no one to blame for what happened."

"No, I'd actually say too much drink is to blame."

Again, Miss Trent gasped her horror at Daphne's bluntness. Lord Stafford's smile had faded. "Miss Burnham, perhaps you would be good enough to show me the lovely paintings your sister has on her wall."

Puzzled, Daphne stared at him. Why would he want to pull her side? It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but curiosity got the better of her annoyance with the man. "Very well, although I warn you I am by no means an expert on art."

Aware of the room full of scrutinizing and curious gazes, Daphne led the way to the wall. A pastel landscape of a landscape hung there. "Any paintings of any worth can be found at my brother-in-law's estate in the country, but Eugenia has chosen some pretty pieces to display here."

"Yes, very pretty."

Unable to discern whether he was mocking her or not, Daphne kept her eyes on the rolling pasture displayed. "Yes, I like it. And obviously, my sister does as well since she keeps it here."

"I am sorry."

At the man's words, Daphne froze. He hadn't really said it, had he? She must have imagined it. He hadn't shown a bit of remorse before. Confused, she brought her gaze back to him.

Lord Stafford shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I mean it," he said earnestly. He must have seen the disbelief in her eyes. "I'm sorry I laughed at the ball. It wasn't funny, and you were right to be angry with me. I'd had too much to drink and it affected my judgment. For that, I sincerely apologize."

"Oh." Daphne certainly hadn't been expecting such a full confession from him. All of her annoyance began to slip away. "Well. I...I forgive you."

The young man's face broke into a wide grin. "Oh, good."

All of a sudden, Daphne felt tired. She'd held onto her anger, certain she was in the right in not allowing the insult to go unforgotten. "My words, perhaps, were sharper than was necessary. I'm sorry."

"You had reason to be angry," Lord Stafford hastened to tell her. "Think nothing of it."

"Was there anything else you wanted to say to me?" All she wanted was to be home and in her own bed.

"No. I'm glad we sorted this out. I must say, you're being a good sport. I know my sisters would have pouted and held this over my head for days." He made a bow. "I hope when we next meet again, we can do so as friends."
Though Daphne knew it was likely they would see each other again, she doubted they would be in close quarters. After all, she may be of good family but Lord Stafford was titled. He undoubtedly moved in much higher circles than she did.

"Good day, Lord Stafford." She returned to her seat, doing her best to ignore the curious glances coming her way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gentleman make his goodbyes and then retreat from the room.

"What a kind gentleman," Miss Trent said as soon as she sat down. Her tone was gushing, which did nothing to help soothe Daphne's frazzled nerves. "You must tell me what he said to you! Why did he pull you aside?"

"He apologized for last evening's unfortunate incident." It was what she wanted, wasn't it? So why did she feel so let down?

"Oh, how good of him!"

Good or not, Daphne wasn't sure what to make of it. She had fully expected him to insist he was not to blame. True, she had been weaving her way through the crowd when it happened, and she was small. It would be easy for her to go unnoticed. But he hadn't even mentioned that fact or tried to share the blame.

He'd proved himself a gentleman when she'd been so adamant he was not. Had he come simply to prove her wrong?

"Don't you agree?" Miss Trent's voice caught her attention.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Daphne asked, shaking her head slightly. Now was not the time for woolgathering.

"Isn't Lord Stafford a handsome man?" MIss Trent didn't appear to mind repeating herself. "I heard he is one of this season's catches."

"Oh. I hadn't heard, but I can't say I'm surprised to hear it," Daphne said honestly. "He is a viscount."

"And wealthy," the other lady said gleefully. "Of course, he may be wanting to wait before he chooses a wife, as so many gentlemen prefer to do. But maybe his eye will be caught by someone." She smoothed her dress with a confident smile.

"You hope it is you?"

Miss Trent raised her eyebrows. "Of course! After all, I have a rather large dowry and I know I may not be a diamond of the first water, but I'm prettier than other girls who have come out this season. I will admit I wasn't sure how I would get an introduction. I'm so thankful to you, Miss Burnham, for making it possible!"

"You're welcome," Daphne said slowly. Her friend was pretty, there was no doubt about it, with her blonde ringlets and shining brown eyes. Her figure was also fashionable. "I wasn't aware you had such high ambitions, Miss Trent."

"And we won't even be rivals!" Miss Trent continued, her tone satisfied. "That would be unbearable, for I do enjoy your company so! But, your first introduction has surely left him interested in pursuing any further acquaintance with you."

Blunt, harsh words, though spoken sweetly, made Daphne cringe. "I see your point."

The other young woman tilted her head with a slight frown. "Did you expect otherwise, Miss Burnham?"

"I can honestly say the idea of Lord Stafford showing me any attention has never entered my head."

"Oh, good." Miss Trent looked beyond her. "I believe my mother is about to leave. I'll look for you at the Bennet's musical soiree tomorrow night."

Though she had been relieved to see her friend when she arrived, Daphne felt even more relief to see her leave. Of course, Miss Trent's words had made sense, but why did she feel the need to say it to Daphne's face?

The next matron and her pale companion entered. "Did I see Lord Stafford leave here?" the woman exclaimed dramatically. "My dears, you must tell me all!"

****

An hour later, the last of their visitors took their leave. "You're looking pale, Daphne," Eugenia said in concern. "I know the gossip was worse than I expected, but since Lord Stafford visited, I am hopeful it will go a long way to putting the rumors to rest. It was kind of him to come, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Daphne rubbed the side of her head. All the conversation and voices had left her with a headache, nevermind her own conflicting thoughts. "He apologized for what happened and hoped we might be able to meet again as friends."

Eugenia's face brightened with relief. "Oh, wonderful! I'd wondered as much when he stepped aside with you."

"Miss Trent was delighted to be introduced to the viscount. Apparently, it is her goal to catch Lord Stafford's attention this season."

"It has been the goal of many young ladies for the past three years to catch Lord Stafford's attention," Eugenia said, sitting on the longue. "Miss Trent is pretty enough, but she does not have much else to recommend her."

"That's unkind!" Daphne protested. She may not have liked what Miss Trent had said, but she still was loyal to her friend. "She is very sweet."

"She pretends to be sweet in company." Eugenia shook her head. "In truth, I've heard her sharp tongue on more than one occasion. Though I suppose that could be one thing you have in common."

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Please don't start, Genie."

Eugenia just smiled. "I only hope you made a better impression this time around with the viscount."

The hope in her sister's voice made Daphne cringe. "What does it matter if I did or not?" she asked in frustration. "Its been made clear my first meeting was unfortunate enough to make me ineligible to further any acquaintance with him."

"No one has said any such thing."

With a huff, Daphne pushed up from her seat. "They have and of course, they're right. You said yourself I have injured my reputation. Certainly, Mama will say as much when she finds out."

"Daphne, what's wrong? This is the complete opposite of what you proclaimed earlier."

"Well, maybe I have thought better of what I said earlier and have changed my mind!"

Raising an eyebrow, Eugenia shook her head. "You're being childish, Daphne. Perhaps we ought to have waited another year before bringing you out into society."

Immediately repenting her sharp tone, Daphne reached out and caught her sister's hand. "Genie, please don't say that. I didn't mean to land myself in the briars."

"I know, but your attitude since you did so has been appalling," Eugenia said, her tone gently admonishing. "Do you want to make a good match? You will not do so if you ruin your reputation be acting the shrew, or if you are flighty."

"I just want to enjoy myself." Why was that so hard to grasp? Daphne wanted music and dancing and laughter. Drama, gossip, and speculation were uninteresting and tedious. "Do i have to find myself a husband so quickly?"

"Do you want to be Mama's sole companion for the rest of your days?"

"Surely, it is not as dire as that! There must be some girls who have more than one season."

Eugenia nodded slowly. "They do, but they risk gossips wondering if there was something amiss about them for taking so long."

It wasn't fair. None of it was. Daphne was well aware of many young men who waited years before they decided to settle down to have a family of their own. Why couldn't ladies have the same choice?

"I have no intention of forcing you, Daphne, but I do ask that you behave yourself in a way where I won't be ashamed to present you another season," Eugenia said, her tone serious. "You may have smoothed matters with Lord Stafford, but the matrons will have their eye on you from now on. Another mistake and you may not like the consequences."

"It wasn't my mistake," Daphne muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

Throwing up her hands, Daphne turned away. "Nothing. May I return home now?"

For a long minute, Eugenia stared at her and then nodded. "Yes. Perhaps our mother will be able to talk some sense into you."

As if their mother ever had a sensible thing to say! Daphne regretted the unkind thought the moment it flitted through her mind. It was true their mother was concerned about her own health and nerves, but she had always shown concern for her children, even if it wasn't the affection Daphne had always craved.

Impulsively, she threw her arms around her sister. "Thank you, Genie. For everything. The dress. Taking me with you into society. All of it. I am grateful to you."

With a sigh, Eugenia returned the embrace. "I know. I don't mean to bully you, Daphne, but you do make me want to tear my hair out sometimes."

"Oh, now you can't do that," Daphne said, pulling away. "It's short enough as it is. Just think how horrible you would look with no hair."

"Go get your pelisse and bonnet already." Eugenia waved her to the door. "The carriage will be ready in ten minutes, so don't get distracted. Mama will want a full accounting from you the moment you step foot in the house. Best you decide what you're going to tell her, and Callie, who I'm sure won't be far behind."

****

Any hope Daphne had of her mother not having heard of the incident were shattered as soon as she presented herself in her mother's sitting room. What followed was an uncomfortable interview where Mrs. Burnham alternated between accusing Daphne of being an ungrateful daughter and bewailing the stain on the family name. After the first fifteen minutes, Daphne gave up any hope of getting a word in edgewise to explain or reassure her mother.

She had a tray in her room that evening, as her mother decided she needed to think about what she had done. Being alone with her thoughts was the last thing Daphne wanted. It was only the following evening when Eugenia arrived to take her to a musical soiree that she finally escaped.

"Mama will not be appeased, even when I tried to tell her Lord Stafford and I have smoothed things over," Daphne said to her oldest sister in the carriage. "I don't know why I am being punished for it. It's just not fair."

"I'm afraid that is the way of the world for young women," Eugenia said gently. "I'm sorry you've had to learn it in such a harsh way, Daphne, but you know society has strict rules a young lady is expected to follow."

"And I have! That is what makes it all so much worse! I did nothing wrong!"

"Except for insulting a gentleman."

"I think the world would be a much better place if a few more gentlemen were made to realize what ridiculous creatures they are."

Eugenia shook her head. "Are you going to be in this temper all evening? Because I would rather we not attend this musical if you are going to pout the entire time."

Holding up her hand, Daphne said, "I promise I will be on my best behavior. No matter the provocation, no matter how much I think I am in the right, I will behave like a perfect lady."

"Good, because you are going to be watched tonight. Not many will have heard that you and Lord Stafford have discussed the matter amicably and have put it behind you."

How was she supposed to put it behind her when it was all anyone would speak of? Daphne held her tongue, though, and they arrived at the musical soiree. They joined the stream of guests who were also arriving.

When she entered the room, Daphne was keenly aware of the glances that came her way. She forced a smile, determined to appear unconcerned. The giggles and whispers that surrounded her as she ventured further into the room, made it a thousand times harder to put on a serene front.

Miss Trent, regrettably, was the only one to approach her. Though glad of the company, Daphne wished it could have been someone—anyone—else, especially since the young lady's first words were, "My friend, I haven't seen Lord Stafford as yet, but he is expected. I thought I ought to warn you."

"As he and I agreed to meet as friends, I don't see why you think it necessary to warn me," Daphne said, her tone sharper than it needed to be. "Really, Miss Trent. Lord Stafford and I have put the unfortunate incident behind us. Any scene the gossips are expecting will not occur."

"Oh, yes. I do remember you saying as much, but it is so much harder to be brave when faced with so many whispers." Was that a note of disappointment in miss Trent's voice. "I am certain I would still be nervous if I were in your shoes."

"I have no reason to be." Despite her words, Daphne a bit uneasy, not about encountering the viscount. She wasn't sure whether everyone else would allow the matter to drop, and that she would be the target of a great amount of scrutiny. "Miss Trent, did you not say yourself Lord Stafford would want no further association with me? If you expect to further your own interests, would it not be better for you to leave me?"

"True." Miss Trent stepped away and then paused. "Oh, he is coming towards us now! I will not desert you now, Miss Burnham. You have my word. I will support you through anything."

Before Daphne could insist she had no need of support, well-meaning though it must have been, Lord Stafford was in front of them. He offered a low bow. "Miss Burnham. Miss Trent," he said as he straightened. "You both look lovely this evening."

"Why, thank you, my lord!" Miss Trent curtsied, giggling with delight.

Daphne was slower to curtsy, even more aware of the eyes on her. "Good evening, Lord Stafford," she said formally.

"Miss Burnham, shall we take a turn about the room?" Lord Stafford asked. He glanced at Miss Trent. "That is if your friend could spare you for a short time. I would not want to interrupt any confidences you ladies may be having."

Miss Trent blinked in surprise. "Oh, of course, my lord. It will do wonders to quell the gossips if you are seen together for a time. How wise you are!"

Was it Daphne's imagination, or did Lord Stafford's lips turn downward for a moment? Why was she even noticing his lips? "Thank you, Miss Trent," was all he said as he extended his arm to Daphne. "Shall we?"

Seeing no way out, Daphne put her gloved hand on his elbow. As they began walking, she asked, "You don't expect me to comment on more art, do you?"

"Lord, no!" Lord Stafford exclaimed, his blue eyes widening. "I confess, Miss Burnham, I have no strong opinion on art whatsoever. Oh, my father built up an admirable collection, and I am told it is fine. However, I have no interest in expanding it. Are you interested in such things?"

"No," Daphne said, relieved she was able to be honest without fear of offending him Why was he being so friendly? "My governesses despaired of teaching me to appreciate art. If its pretty, well and good. Beyond that, I don't give it a moment's thought."

Was she being too forward with such honesty? He wouldn't think he an empty-headed widgeon, would he? Too superficial?

"Exactly!" Lord Stafford said, a note of excitement in his voice. "Of course it's not the done thing to say in company, you know. I am glad we can agree on this one thing, at least."

"Staff," an unfamiliar gentleman said as he intercepted them. His dark hair was arranged in an almost careless fashion with wild curls. He was dressed in a dark, well-cut coat and a general air of understatement. "You must introduce me to your companion. Can it be the infamous Miss Burnham?"

Daphne's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Surely not infamous!" she protested, though she knew she ought to have held her peace.

"Miss Burnham, may I present Mr. Anderson," Lord Stafford said, reluctance in his tone. "Anders, this is Miss Burnham."

Mr. Anderson continued to study her. "Odd. She doesn't appear to be a shrew."

How dare he speak as if she wasn't there! Daphne opened her mouth to speak, mentally apologizing to Eugenia for breaking her promise. Lord Stafford took a step forward. "Anders, that is enough. Go find someone else ot torment," he said, his tone steely.

The other man raised his eyebrows and raised his hands. "Peace, Staff. Just making an observation."

"Well, it wasn't wanted."

With a slight bow and without another word, the other man hurried on. "Friend of yours?" Daphne asked, trying to quell the anger in her voice.

"Not much of one." Lord Stafford glanced to where a raised platform occupied the center of the room. "Oh. It looks they are about to begin. I should return you to your sister." Disappointment tinged his voice.

"Yes, I suppose so." They hadn't gone far at all.

"Say, I have an idea." He turned toward her abruptly. "Miss Burnham, shall we go riding tomorrow? We'll be able to talk better then, and not have a hundred other people trying to overhear."

Riding? Talk? Bemused, Daphne blinked. "I'm afraid I don't know how to ride."

"Then, we'll go driving. Shall we say four o'clock? I will call for you with my curricle."
"Alright," left Daphne's lips before she even had time to think.
Another grin appeared on Lord Stafford's face, making him appear little more than an eighteen-year-old. "Wonderful." He guided her through the throng of people taking their seats. "Ah, here is your sister. I will see you tomorrow, Miss Burnham."

Eugenia raised an eyebrow as Daphne sank into a seat. "What was that about?"

"Lord Stafford is taking me driving tomorrow," Daphne said, unable to truly believe what had just happened.

Her sister grabbed her hands. "Oh, Daphne! That is wonderful news."
A few rows in front of them, Miss Trent twisted around, a quizzical expression on her face. Daphne shook her head and focused on the matron standing on the platform.

****

Daphne paced in front of the windows of her bedchamber. Her dark blue walking gown, which normally delighted her to wear, could not distract her thoughts. Why? Why had she said yes?

Her fingers curled into fists inside her white cotton gloves. Should she cry off with a headache? It wouldn't be too difficult to fake the pounding of a megrim since it had been her almost constant companion in the past week.

But she was no coward. "I gave my word," she said aloud. If she were to complain of an ailment, she was certain her sister and Lord Stafford would make other arrangements. Perhaps arranging a drive another day.

Better to get it over with. After all, Daphne was curious about what he wanted. Why had he singled her out? From what she'd heard, he'd driven out with many young ladies in the two years since he'd come into his title but he'd not done so this Season. Did he wish to put a good front up to halt gossip? Or was there something else on his mind?

Spinning around, Daphne stepped to the mirror. Her straw bonnet, with its new adornments of white flowers and blue ribbons, was the epitome of charming. No one would say she did not look her best.

"At least it's not white."

She couldn't help but be pleased Lord Stafford would see her in a more flattering color. Jewel tones made Daphne's skin glow with health and went well with her dark brown hair.

"Oh, why does it matter?" Daphne returned to the windows and looked out, unable to answer her own question.

A gleaming, black curricle was stopped in front. Daphne caught a glimpse of Lord Stafford's black hat as he strode up to the front door. Breathing out, she pivoted on her heel and strode to the door. She hurried down the hallway to the staircase and started down.

"I will inform Mrs. Burnham and Miss Burnham of your arrival, my lord," she heard Wilder, the butler, say.

"No need to disturb my mother. I'm here," Daphne said, raising her voice. She curtsied as Lord Stafford bowed in greeting. "Thank you, Wilder. Please inform my mother that I have gone out."

"You're very prompt, Miss Burnham," Lord Stafford said with a nod of approval. "Let us be on our way."

He escorted her out of the townhouse to his curricle. He assisted her into her seat before climbing in himself. They set off without another word.

Again, she wondered why she'd agreed to the outing. Yes, Eugenia thought it would do wonders for her reputation, and help ensure the unfortunate night at the ball was forgotten. But she could have had a civil conversation with Lord Stafford at some event and accomplished the same thing.

So why had she said she would accompany him on a drive?

"Do you really not ride, Miss Burnham?" Lord Stafford asked as he handled the reins of his curicule.

"I've spent my entire life in London, save for brief visits to the country," Daphne said, trying not to be offended by his incredulity. "I've never had the opportunity to learn. Mr. Landon has offered to teach me when I've visited my sister."
"And you haven't wished to do so?"
"I had far too much fun walking the gardens and exploring the countryside to make time for the lessons." That and the idea of being seated on a horse with nothing to cushion a fall had kept her from taking up her brother-in-law's offer.

They passed a slower carriage. Daphne didn't recognize the occupants, but Lord Stafford nodded a greeting. "But you did enjoy your time in the country?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Daphne said honestly, unsure where he intended to take the conversation. "No doubt because I've only visited, I am enamored with being away from the benefits of London. I've heard many ladies, my mother among them, who decry the boredom they experience."

"True."

At his short tone, Daphne glanced over in time to see the curl of his lip. "I take it you've heard the same?"

"More than I'd care to admit, and from my own parents. And our family seat is in the country."
"That is unfortunate. Of course, there are benefits to being in town. Your father must take an interest in politics."
Lord Stafford shook his head. "How is a man to oversee his property properly without being there more than once or twice a year?"

His passionately spoken words surprised Daphne. "Don't gentlemen usually have a steward or overseer to ensure their holdings are well run?"

"It helps, of course, but what keeps said overseer from abusing his power or mismanaging things if the gentleman who owns the land does not oversee him? Anything could happen, Miss Burnham, when an estate is left vacant."

"I see your point." Daphne wasn't sure how their conversation had taken such a serious turn, but she found she didn't exactly mind. "You would spend all year in the country if you had an estate, then?"

"No," Lord Stafford said slowly. "I'll one day have my own seat in the House of Lords, and there are important matters that would demand my attention. I'd have to be in London for the season, but I'd make sure I returned to my estate for the remainder of the year."
"Well, you are determined," was all Daphne could think to say. She wished she had such certainties about her future. Then again, she was a woman, and women were not allowed such freedom. The only choice they were offered was who they chose to marry, and some were never given that choice.

"You're surprised."

Daphne glanced at her escort again. "A bit," she said honestly. "Not many young men have such strong feelings. From what I've seen, they are merely determined to sow wild oats and have as much fun as they can."

"And I was much the same way several years ago, but I've seen what can happen when neglect sets in." There was a grave note in the man's voice. He shook his head. "Thus can hardly be the type of conversation you expected."

"I'm not sure what I expected."

Lord Stafford sent a quick glance at her. "You think I wish to make sport of you?"

"Well, I know there are some gentlemen who would." Daphne decided to be as upfront as possible. "If you have invited me out to help repair my reputation, I am grateful. But you are showing me more attention than a lady has any right to expect, given how we became acquainted. I thought you would wish to have nothing more to do with me."

"If I am honest, halting gossip is not the only reason I asked to go driving with you." Lord Stafford paused and focused on passing a slower moving carriage once again. "I have something particular to ask you."

"Oh?" Daphne desperately hoped he had no intention of asking her about Miss Trent. Though she had once thought that young lady had been a friend, she was now certain Miss Trent had only befriended her for her own purposes.

"Would you be opposed to our becoming better acquainted?"

Stunned, Daphne stared at him, barely even aware they had entered Hyde Park and had slowed down. "Better acquainted? You mean...courtship?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Lord Stafford said, his face flushing red. "I hope I am not being too forward in being blunt with you."

"No, not at all," Daphne managed to say. "But why me? I caused us both to be humiliated in front of so many people."

"Ah, but you didn't try to simper or catch my attention. You were direct and had no fear of bringing me to task for what was a lapse of judgment on my part" Lord Stafford's tone had become serious. "You are the first young lady to do so, and I find I would prefer such honesty. You have no idea how many have tried to entice me since I became viscount."

"You do realize I had no idea who you were then." In view of their shared honesty, Daphne could not let that detail go unmentioned.

The man let out a laugh. "Don't you see? That makes it all better! You didn't care who I was, but you wanted to make sure the insult did not pass. I believe you would have taken on Beau Brummell himself if he had been at fault."

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Daphne said with a slight laugh.

"Say you'll give me a chance to make a better impression," Lord Stafford said earnestly. "In fact, let us be reintroduced now! And we shall forget our first introduction ever happened."

"And who will do the introduction?" Daphne asked, amused by his enthusiasm and sincerity.

Lord Stafford frowned. "You're right. There is no one to do it properly. Well, let us take a page from country manners and handle it ourselves." Still managing to control his cattle, he made a slight bow, a winsome grin curving his lips. "Alexander Temple, Viscount Stafford at your service dear lady."
"Miss Daphne Burnham," she said in answer, inclining her head. It was the best she could manage in a moving curricle. "I would be pleased if you would call on me if you can tell me one important fact."

The frown reappeared. "Anything at all, Miss Burnham."

"Dancing is my greatest pleasure. What is your opinion?"

His laugh burst out and startled a horse next to them. "I am equally fond of it, Miss Burnham, I promise you. I think you and I shall deal extremely well together."

Satisfied and relieved, Daphne laughed as well. Who would have guessed she would get a second chance?