“Not the unicorns again,” Elizabeth groaned. She looked over at Hugh and said, “Please forgive my sister. She is obsessed with unicorns.”

Hugh glanced down at Frances. She’d gone rigid with anger and was glaring at her sister. He didn’t really blame her; Elizabeth’s tone had been as older-sibling as it got, two parts condescension and one part derision. And while he didn’t really hold that against her—he would have been the same at her age, he was sure—he was seized by a sudden urge to be a little girl’s hero.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anyone’s hero.

“I rather like unicorns,” he said.

Elizabeth looked stunned. “You do?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes, but you don’t believe in them,” Elizabeth said. “Frances thinks they are real.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frances eyeing him nervously.

“I certainly cannot prove that they don’t exist,” he said.

Frances let out a squeak.

Elizabeth looked as if she’d been staring into the sun too long.

“Lord Hugh,” Frances said, “I—”

“Mama!”

Frances stopped midsentence and they all looked toward the carriage door. It was Sarah’s voice, just outside the carriage, and she did not sound happy.

“Do you think she’s going to ride with us?” Elizabeth whispered.

“Well, she did on the way here,” Harriet replied.

Lady Sarah. In the carriage. Hugh was not sure he could imagine a more diabolical torture.

“It’s here with your sisters or with Arthur and Rupert,” came the voice of Lady Pleinsworth. “I’m sorry, but we just don’t have room in . . .”

“I won’t get to sit with you,” Frances told Hugh apologetically. “They won’t all three fit on the other side.”

Lady Sarah would be sitting next to him. Apparently there was a more diabolical torture.

“Don’t worry,” Harriet assured him, “Sarah doesn’t get sick riding backwards.”

“No, it’s fine,” they all heard Sarah say, “I don’t mind riding with them, but I was hoping—”

The door was wrenched open. Sarah was already halfway up the step, her back to the carriage as she continued to speak with her mother. “It’s just that I’m tired, and—”

“It’s time to depart,” Lady Pleinsworth cut in firmly. She gave her daughter a little shove. “I won’t be the one to hold everyone up.”

Sarah let out an impatient exhale as she backed into the carriage and turned around and—

Saw him.

“Good morning,” Hugh said.

Her mouth hung open in surprise.

“I’ll move over,” Frances grumbled. She got up and moved across the carriage, trying to take the window seat from Elizabeth before ending up, arms crossed, in the center.

“Lord Hugh,” Sarah said, clearly at a loss. “I, ehrm . . . What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be rude,” Frances scolded.