The air was still crisp with the memory of winter but the encroaching sunshine promised a certain degree of heat to all those assembled for show in Hyde Park. As the soft morning light filtered through the rim of Victoria's bonnet she attempted to distract herself from tearing the contraption off her head. She chuckled under her breath at the very idea of such a spectacle. Yes, the ton would enjoy that. 'That wild Hastings girl, what would she do next?' She could almost hear them titter scandalously.

"What amuses you, dear?"

"Oh, nothing Aunt Beatrice," Victoria answered her late mother's sister with a suspicious smile.

Aunt Beatrice continued to gaze at her quizzically.

"No, really Aunt. It's nothing," she entreated.

"Hmmph, I've heard that before," her aunt joked good-naturedly and readjusted her parasol. "Now you were telling me about the Lady Summerton's Ball last night. How was it, my dear? I hope you told her how sorry your uncle and I were to not be able to make it, but that cold of his just won't shift."

"Yes, Aunt. I did tell her as you asked." Victoria nodded to a passing duchess on Rotten Row and was given the cut direct as per usual. She didn't know why she persisted in the ruse that she was still a functioning member of society. There were pitiful few women in the ton who showed her any kindness.

"And?" Aunt Beatrice pressed.

"And what?" Victoria hoped to delay the retelling of the night's events for as long as possible. She hated any form of lying to her aunt and uncle especially when they had believed her about the whole Andrew saga without hesitation. However, her aunt's romantic heart would undoubtedly remember Victoria's childhood crush on the Duke of Westley and consequently make something out of nothing.

"Not much," Victoria supplied. "It was really very dull. You know me, I found a good book and curled up with it for most of the night." She swished her slipper idly through the freshly trodden grass. "The tripe was pretty good."

"Ugh," Aunt Beatrice spat, "I can't believe that you eat that rubbish. Lady Summerton would have had the best slices of venison and exotic fruits and vegetables, and you choose that. Your tastes have always astounded me, chillies, pineapples, haggis and curries. Honestly, child you really are your father's daughter."

The corner of Victoria's mouth tilted up into a grin. She had heard the comparison before and it always lightened her heart. It was nice to think that she had some connection to a man of whom her memory faded daily.

"Anyway," Aunt Beatrice continued, "there was sure to be plenty of exotic and interesting delicacies as I am told that the Duke of Westley has returned from the Orient once again. He always brings back such remarkable items for Lady Summerton. Did you not see him?"

Victoria recognised her aunt hedging for details and feigned interest in a newly grown thatch of banewort growing in the shade of a mighty oak. She ran her fingers along the ovate leaves, snapping off a few to press in her notebooks on botany.

"Victoria...," Aunt Beatrice extended the vowels in her name with a knowing glare.

"Oh, yes Aunt. I'm sure I saw him. Yes, I must have," Victoria offered distractedly while pocketing a few of the shiny black berries.

Aunt Beatrice touched her arm gently and Victoria reluctantly turned around to face her aunt once more. "We may have spoken a little," she sighed.

Aunt Beatrice had never looked more delighted as she clasped her hands together in surprise, although it was possible that she was just on the verge of clapping. It was hard to discern the two. Victoria couldn't think what her relative hoped to achieve by a little conversation with the duke, but she doubted it was anything good.

"Relax, Aunt. We did not discuss anything of great import." Just whether or not I should kiss him, she thought distractedly.

"Oh that doesn't matter," Aunt Beatrice waved at another passer-by who was showing off her new mare to anybody who cared to see. "Just being seen talking to the duke will most assuredly increase your chances," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"What chances?" Victoria gave a start. "Surely you have given up hope of me making a match, I know I have," she snorted derisively.

"Nonsense." Aunt Beatrice swatted the stray foliage from her niece's hands. "If only you would attempt normality, you might still find love."

"If I pretend to be normal then I will not be finding a man who loves the real me," Victoria bit back. She knew that her aunt only wanted the best for her but the woman could not see a lost cause even if it stared her in the face. "And, anyway, no one saw him talk to me so you can forget about that idea."

Victoria watched her aunt becoming very still before she turned with painstaking awareness to face her niece. "And, where might you have had this little chat, then?" Her eyes narrowed despite her calm inflection.

"Umm... in the library," Victoria hesitated over the truth.

"The library you say?" her aunt tried not to smile.

"Yes, but only because we bumped into each other and not because he wanted me, I mean, wanted to. So you can just stop that grin I know you are endeavouring to hide Aunt Beatrice because nothing will come of it. We are not friends, or lovers, or even acquaintances and I doubt that I will ever speak to him again in the course of my existence!" Victoria hissed quietly in her aunt's ear.

"Is that so?" Aunt Beatrice asked casually as she continued to survey the parade of debutants shuffling through Hyde Park like a marriage carousel.

"Yes, of course!" Victoria repeated emphatically. "He may have become more responsible since his cavorting days, and if it is possible wealthier, but in his heart beats the same rake as before. I am sure that if I were to speak to him for any length of time I would find just another typical boorish, brainless man of the ton." The lies slipped easily from Victoria's lips, so often had she told them to herself. She did however note the edge of desperation to her voice that just didn't seem to ebb. Despite her efforts to appear nonchalant she feared that she was going drastically in the other direction and so completed her tirade as casually as possible. "If I never see the Duke of Westley again, it would be too soon."

"Really?" Aunt Beatrice glanced at her with raised brow. "That would be a shame."

"And why is that?" Victoria threw some of her golden hair out of her face, wondering how the strands had escaped her bonnet.

"Because he is coming this way." Aunt Beatrice finally gave into an encompassing smile and tilted her chin to the direction behind Victoria's right shoulder.

Victoria spun around with a great sense of foreboding and caught sight of the duke as he made his way directly to her, cutting a line between several debutants who seemed to have a convenient fit of vapours in his path. However, he seemed so resolute on his destination that nothing appeared to stop him. Had the Serpentine been in his way, he probably would have walked upon the water, not that she believed him to be her Saviour. Victoria shook her head angrily at such rebellious thoughts. Why can't I just be normal!

Anxiety seized her heart and she attempted to beat a hasty retreat but Aunt Beatrice grabbed her wrist like it was a twig and threatened to snap it if she so much as shifted her weight.

There was nothing left to do but wait for the duke to reach them. It did however give her time to observe him in his fine morning attire. Far from the state of dishabille that she saw him in the night before, he was dressed to impress. Pressed beige pants with a starched crease emphasised his long legs and complemented a matching pinstripe waistcoat over a pristine white shirt. A sage green cravat was knotted at his throat beneath the high necked collar of his thick coat which clutched at his broad shoulders like a wanton woman sculpting her curves to meet his. Victoria shook her head again. What is wrong with me?!

She surreptitiously dusted the dirt from her hands and straightened the pale peach bonnet that matched her dress. It was not terribly old, but was by no means new and she had chosen it, the same way she selected all her clothes, for the express purpose of blending in. Unfortunately, keeping the company of a duke would cause her to stand out. And for what possible reason would he subject her to such outside scrutiny, she wondered. Her mind flashed through every conceivable scenario, each one more disastrous than the next until his polished leather hessians stood right in front of her and she scanned upward to meet his stern expression. Surely, he would not mention last night, in front of her aunt, the ton, and... and.... God.

"Good morning, Miss Hastings. I thought last night we had arranged to meet at your house this morning? But, perhaps I was mistaken."

Victoria gaped.

"No matter, your staff directed me here without any great dilemma." The corners of his lips turned up a fraction before he focused his attention elsewhere. "Mrs Thompson, I hope you will forgive the intrusion. How lovely you look in this light. Not a day older than when I departed. We so missed your company at my step-mother's ball last night."

Mrs Beatrice Thompson blushed like a freshly plucked debutant as he took her hand and favoured it with a gallant kiss. "Oh, it is so good of you to say so, Your Grace. I'm sure my niece told you how much I wished to attend, but I'm afraid her uncle is still unwell and worse so during the nights."

"Really?" Anthony's brows drew together concerned. "I wish him a speedy recovery. My mother's garden is one of the best tended in London. Had I known I would have sent over some of our tincture herbs, but I don't believe Miss Hastings mentioned it."

Victoria gritted her teeth against an imminent growl. What was the infernal man doing coming up to talk to her in broad daylight like it was a completely normal occurrence?

"Really, I am surprised Victoria," an element of ire crept into her aunts voice.

"Oh, no, you must not blame Miss Hastings. I am sure we had so much to reminisce upon since our last meeting that I got carried away. The fault lies entirely with me, and so must the remedy." Anthony bowed a little accepting culpability.

"The remedy, young man?" Aunt Beatrice questioned with burgeoning interest.

"Yes. Allow me to provide Mr Thompson with whatever tonics and herbs from our garden which might aid in his return to the very next ball."

Aunt Beatrice flicked open her fan and started waving it in front of her face to hide her excitement. It was uncommonly kind of a duke of Anthony's stature to pay such attentions to a family of such little consequence. Victoria feared that they would be the talk of the town soon, and when Anthony used her aunt's distraction to wink at her, her prophecy seemed assured.

"Well, well," Aunt Beatrice started, regaining her composure, "Victoria is a proficient study of all things botanical. I am sure that she is a far better judge of what would benefit her ailing uncle, than I."

Victoria grimaced as she caught the matchmakers gleam in her aunt's blue eyes. She resolved to be silent lest she scream, and curtseyed her answer instead. She had been the sole object of the ton's interest once before and it was not a position she wished to occupy again.

"There you have it," Aunt Beatrice announced triumphantly. "Victoria can select the herbs we require."

"Excellent," the duke's eyes grinned where his lips did not and Victoria hastened to squelch his elation.

"Have you a pen, your Grace? I will note them all for you now so that there will be no further need for you to concern yourself. I am sure there are far more pressing matters that require your attention during your brief stay."

Aunt Beatrice ceased fanning herself.

"Unfortunately, no." Anthony's eyes flashed with a warning. Whatever game she was playing he clearly thought he could best her at it. "I am not particularly well acquainted with the full extent of our stocks, hence I regret that I am not informed as to exactly what I am able to provide."

"Perhaps it would be better if Victoria was able to choose them for herself?" Aunt Beatrice suggested lightly, reading the flow of the conversation far better than any book Victoria had foisted on her.

"Undoubtedly." The Duke of Westley smiled widely and Victoria wondered if he had learnt the expression from a shark. "If you are not too busy, I know my mother would love for you to call around in two days hence. I will, naturally, endeavour to be present also."

"Naturally." Aunt Beatrice grinned.

Fantastic, Victoria cringed. They are feeding off of each other. She scanned her surroundings and noticed that a great deal of the ton had suddenly chosen to mill around their present location and those in the immediate vicinity had become uncommonly silent. She thumbed the banewort berry in her pocket and wondered how fast its effects of sedation would take for full potency. Surely if she took enough she would drop dead of its toxins and not have to surrender to the rest of her aunt's conversation with the duke.

"Victoria....Victoria," Aunt Beatrice called loudly into her ear.

"What?" Victoria snapped out of her daydream. "I mean...pardon?" she attempted with a more delicate tone.

"His Grace was just telling me how interested he is in botany and I thought it might be beneficial for you to use this opportunity to practice your studies. I suggested you might walk that little grove over there and identify some of the common types of wort and moss for him." The older woman pointed in the direction of an unpopulated dense crop of woodland whose location just bordered propriety.

Victoria flicked her eyes between the two conspirators. Aunt Beatrice was performing so many indiscrete indications with the tilt of her neck that anyone watching would assume she had an incurable tick. Meanwhile, Lord Anthony Westley stood resolute at her side with the physique of a Grecian God wearing an indiscernible expression.

"If you would do me the honour...," the duke trailed off suggestively and extended his hand to her in full view of half the ton.

Victoria took a deep breath and stepped close to him with fire boiling the cerulean pools of her eyes. "What do you think that you are doing?" she hissed vehemently.

Anthony wrapped her arm within his own as he escorted her away from tons quickening tongues and bent to whisper in her ear like a promise. "I should have thought that was obvious, Diamond. I'm courting you."

**VOTE**

**VOTE**

**VOOOOOOOOTTTTTEEEEE**

A/N: So what do you think? Surprised she didn't wait to receive him at home or shocked that he sought her out in public? She is after all considered a fallen woman.

Anybody a fan of Aunt Beatrice? She seems like my kind of aunt, giving all the gentle encouragement of white water rapids.

And just a little reminder, unlike Persuasion in the Pantry, this book is not edited or researched. It is simply for my own enjoyment, and of course YOURS!

Next part is whatever happens between the foliage of those trees.....

Glossary:

Banewort is a common name for several poisonous plants such as Atropa belladonna, commonly known as belladonna or deadly nightshade. It is a perennial herbaceous plant that is native to Europe, North Africa, and Western Asia. The foliage and berries are extremely toxic, and can cause death, delirium, sedation and hallucinations.