Hart stared. The rider was female? Gad, but she could ride. In fact . . . His eyes narrowed . . . There had been something familiar . . .

“Who—?” he began.

“If you ever bothered to ride in Hyde Park, you would have met both horse and owner together. She and her family ride there most mornings—early. Practically crack of dawn,” Sinc added with a theatrical shudder.

Hart raised a skeptical brow. “Then how is it that you’ve seen them? You rarely rise before noon.”

“Coming home, of course. Often witness the grisly hours of dawn on the way home from a night out.”

“And who is this family that rides out so intrepidly at such an hour?”

Sinc grinned. “The family you almost married into.”

There was a short silence as Hart took it in.

Sinc chuckled. “Yes, that was Lady George Rutherford you chased all over the heath just now. Told you she was an original.”

Chapter Three

In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquility; and though prepared . . . to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free of them there.

—JANE AUSTEN, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

It was a hot afternoon. George, Aunt Dottie and Emm were crossing Berkeley Square on a quest to Gunter’s for ices, when they heard a series of shrieks and yaps. Human shrieks, canine yaps.

An elegantly dressed older lady was jumping up and down, appalled, flapping her hands and shrieking at a pack of dogs that were swirling and snapping and shoving at one another in a noisy canine whirlpool several feet away.

“It’s Milly Prescott,” Aunt Dottie exclaimed.

“FooFoo!” Mrs. Prescott cried. “Oh, stop it, you brutes! My poor little FooFoo!”

George saw what the problem was. In the middle of the pack of dogs was a small, dainty Pekingese, pink satin ribbons in her hair, receiving the eager attentions of a dozen scruffy mongrels.

“Sit and stay!” George ordered Finn, who was showing considerable interest in the proceedings. Reluctantly he lowered his behind, almost to the ground. George waded into the swirling pack, snatched up the little dog and handed it to the lady. Then she roundly dispersed the other dogs, who retreated a few yards away and waited hopefully.

One brave, enamored beast broke through and leapt up eagerly at FooFoo. Mrs. Prescott screeched, George roared at the would-be swain, and Finn jumped forward with a snarl. All the dogs retreated another few feet.

“Oh, you brave, brave girl, Lady Georgiana! I wonder you weren’t bitten—such a heroine you are! Thank you, thank you,” Mrs. Prescott exclaimed. “Oh dear, I’m all of a flutter! Those terrible brutes just appeared from nowhere and started attacking my poor little baby.”

George glanced at Emm and Aunt Dottie, who were trying not to smile.

“Um, they weren’t attacking her,” George said.