“Of course not. But you won’t be there to see it.”

In truth, it was the last thing George wanted to see. Billie, surrounded by a pack of gentlemen astute enough to realize what a treasure she was? It was the stuff of nightmares.

And a moot point, as it happened. “Actually,” he told his mother, “I will likely arrive at Wintour House before you do.”

“Well, then I see no reason you cannot circle back ’round from your errand and pick us up on the way.”

He fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mother, it won’t work. Please leave it at that and know that I will see you at the ball, where I shall dance such attendance upon Billie that the gentlemen of London will be waiting in line just to fall at her feet.”

“Good morning.”

They both turned to see Billie standing in the doorway. George stood to greet her. He wasn’t sure how much she had heard, beyond his obvious sarcasm, and he very much feared she would take it the wrong way.

“It is very kind of you to agree to attend to me tonight,” she said, her tone so sweet and pleasant that he could not quite gauge its sincerity. She walked over to the sideboard and picked up a plate. “I do hope it will not be too much of a chore.”

Ah, and there she was.

“On the contrary,” he replied. “I am very much looking forward to being your escort.”

“But not so much that you will actually accompany us in the carriage,” his mother muttered.

“Stop,” he said.

Billie turned around, her eyes darting from Rokesby to Rokesby with unconcealed curiosity.

“I regret to inform you that I have an unbreakable commitment this evening,” he told her, “which means I will not be able to drive to Wintour House with you. But I will see you there. And I hope you will save me two dances.”

“Of course,” she murmured. But then again, she could hardly say anything else.

“Since you cannot escort us this evening . . .” Lady Manston began.

George nearly threw down his napkin.

“. . . perhaps you may assist us in some other way.”

“Please,” he said, “inform me how I may be of service.”

Billie made a sound that might have been a snort. He wasn’t sure. But it was certainly in her nature to find amusement in his rapidly dwindling patience with his mother.

“You know all of the young gentlemen better than I do,” Lady Manston continued. “Are there any we should avoid?”

All of them, George wanted to say.

“And are there any we should particularly look out for? That Billie may plan to set her cap for?”

“That I may—what?”

Billie must truly have been startled, George thought. She dropped three slices of bacon on the floor.

“Set your cap, darling,” Lady Manston said. “It’s an expression. Surely you’ve heard it.”

“Of course I’ve heard it,” Billie said, hurrying over to take her place at the table. “I don’t, however, see how it applies to me. I did not come to London to look for a husband.”