“Can’t he just call here, like all your other suitors?”

“You know he can’t. Mother’s likely to turn him away, and I don’t want to go behind her back. You know how disapproving she is. Oh, please say you’ll come. I promise it won’t take long. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Oh, all right. But wear a shawl.”

As Juliet rushed off to dress, Georgie suppressed a twinge of envy. At least her sister had heard from her beau. She hadn’t heard anything from Wylde for the past three days. Perhaps he’d reconsidered their outlandish deal. Perhaps that was for the best.

She’d been proud of the cool, logical way she’d presented her case, because when it came to Benedict Wylde, her feelings were thoroughly illogical—a confusing mix of wariness, mistrust, and heart-pounding attraction. She shook her head and went to find a bonnet and an umbrella in case her prediction of rain proved true.

It was only a short walk from Grosvenor Square, down Upper Brook Street to Hyde Park, and although grey clouds threatened, the day was surprisingly warm for March. They hadn’t been in the park more than a few minutes, strolling down the long avenues and trailed by Juliet’s long-suffering maid Charlotte, when disaster struck.

Juliet had just bent to sniff some early-blooming daffodils when she gasped.

“Oh! I see Simeon! Over there, on the other side of the pond!”

She waved her reticule at the thin figure, which had the undesired effect of disturbing a bumble bee that had been buzzing among the flowers, minding its own business.

“Aargh! A bee! Get off!”

Georgie tried to catch Juliet’s flailing arms. “Just stand still. It’s not interested in you. Once it realizes you’re not a flower, it will leave you alone.”

But Juliet was deaf to all reason. She flapped like a demented chicken. The blameless bee managed to get caught up in her shawl.

Juliet clapped a hand to the side of the neck. “It bit me!” she gasped.

“Stung you,” Georgie corrected automatically. “Bees don’t have teeth.”

“I don’t care!” Juliet wailed. “Oh Lord, I can’t breathe!”

Georgie rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time her sister had been, in her own words, “maliciously singled out for assassination” by a bee. The orchard back in Little Gidding was full of them.

Charlotte bustled up, her plump, kindly face the picture of concern. “Now, miss, you’ll be all right. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Juliet turned and squinted expectantly across the pond at where Simeon had been standing. “Oh, this is perfect! Where is Simeon? He can come and rescue me. When Mother sees how kind and gallant he is, she’s bound to soften toward him. Can you see him, Georgie?”

Georgie squinted across the lake. Simeon’s thin figure was heading toward them. “He’s coming.”