“Oh, them,” Charlotte scoffed, steering the horses around a stopped carriage blocking her path. “The marriage-minded mamas, you mean,” she added when she had returned to Dare’s side.

“And widows,” he added with a particularly meaningful look that was unfortunately wasted upon his fair huntress.

“You are the subject of pursuit by women who wish to trap you into marriage?”

“Yes.”

The office of his solicitor was a few steps away. He stopped and prepared to make yet another bow.

“And you don’t wish to be pursued by them? Most gentlemen are flattered when they are the object of a lady’s attention.”

Lord, she really was beautiful with the morning sun catching the curls nestled alongside her face, burnishing them into spun gold. His fingers itched to touch that warm golden hair, those smooth cheeks kissed by a hint of rose. He curled his traitorous fingers into fists. “I am not most gentlemen. I don’t have time for such foolishness. I am undertaking a project of the gravest import, and between my sister marrying in a week, and my work, I have little time for avoiding the matrimonial traps set for me.”

“Hmm.” She tapped one gloved finger upon lips that looked sweet as strawberries, her frown deepening. “You might almost say that your sad circumstance—being pursued by marriageable ladies—was interfering with your life?”

“That would be an accurate statement, yes. And now if you’ll forgive me, I have an appointment with my solicitors. Batsfoam? Ah, there you are. Good lord, man, you’re covered in dung! Did you roll in the stuff?”

Batsfoam glared briefly at Charlotte before casting a martyred glance at his master.

“No, no, it’s of no matter.” Dare forestalled what was sure to be forthcoming. “It’s not sufficiently offensive for me to require you to throw yourself to certain death before the hooves of Weston’s grays. Do you still have the documents? Excellent. Shall we?”

“One moment, if you please, Lord Carlisle,” Charlotte called as he turned toward the door to the office. “I believe I have a solution to your unpleasant situation.”

It was Dare’s turn to frown in puzzlement. “You have a solution?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said with just the slightest air of preening herself. “I do. It’s a very simple solution.”

“Leaving town, I suppose. That I will do—”

“Not that,” Charlotte interrupted him. “I know how much you would hate to leave London just as the Season is at its peak. No, my solution is much simpler, much more effective, and has many added benefits which I’m sure you’ll appreciate once you put your mind to the matter.”

Dare didn’t bother to correct her misimpression of his desire to stay in town. He wanted to escape into the safe, dark, dusty warren that was his solicitors’ offices, but try as he might to turn his feet and walk away, he found himself standing next to the curricle with one hand resting on the seat rail, unable to tear himself away from the dancing eyes of the woman next to him. “Very well, I will listen to your solution.”