LADY SYLVIA PAUSED at the door to her bedchamber. “I’m not such a bad chaperone as you suppose,” she said suddenly. “I could see as well as any that you and Erskine were the better match.”

Gabby blushed. “I’m truly sorry about this morning. I should not have visited Quill’s study by myself.”

“There’s a time and place for chaperones too,” Lady Sylvia replied. “And giving a hand to a wedding proposal isn’t one of them. Looks as if Erskine did just fine on his own.”

Gabby couldn’t help smiling at the roguish look the older woman was giving her. “Yes, he did,” she said.

“A good boy, he is. All heart, and don’t let the fact he doesn’t say much change your opinion. He’s a good boy.”

Gabby nodded.

Lady Sylvia pranced into her room, instructing Gabby to lie on her bed for at least forty minutes, so as to prepare herself for the onslaught of gabsters they could expect for morning calls.

“Mind you,” she scolded, “given that your bodice gave up its moorings last night, quite a few of them will be here simply to crane their necks. I’ve no doubt but what that tale has spread all over town. Still, if the men of the town could have chosen a bodice to drop, I daresay that most of them would have chosen yours. That will irk the ladies. Pure and simple jealousy.”

Gabby walked into her room and dutifully lay on her bed, but it was impossible to relax. Finally she sat up and took out Peter’s miniature. But his gentle eyes and soft brown hair had lost their allure. She’d lost her appetite for perfectly arranged curls and a gentle manner. Quill’s eyes were stormy and his hair was never perfectly arranged—if indeed his valet did more than draw a comb through it. And yet she only had to think about him to feel a rush of happiness. He talked with his eyes, and they told her that she was beautiful and desirable—yes, and intelligent too.

LUCIEN STOOD IN THE ENTRYWAY of Emily’s small house feeling tongue-tied, a most unusual emotion for a man known for his eloquent compliments. “I came to ask whether you might accompany me to a small party being given by Lady Dunstreet,” he said. “I much enjoyed our evening together.”

“As did I,” Emily murmured. But Lucien couldn’t see any trace of pleasure on her face. Then she raised her eyes. “I must speak to you, Mr. Boch. Will you spare me a moment?”

Lucien’s heart sank as he followed Emily into the sitting room and sat down opposite her.