Not even the goings-on of last night could have prevented Miss Davis from rousing early the next morning. After partaking of a substantial breakfast at the advance hour of eight, she’d seen fit to have a morning walk in Hyde Park, and had prevailed upon her cousin, Miss Sophie Winscott, to accompany her to this jaunt. The invitation had been accepted with a great deal of disinclination; Miss Winscott, no early riser, had been remorselessly stirred from sleep at an hour which she denounced as ungodly, and no sooner had she got up from her bed than she coveted its warmth once more. The impulse was checked, though, when Caroline shot her an entreating look, complained that Lady Mortimer’s ball last night had extremely fagged her to death, and asserted that to step outside for some air would do her a worldly good. To which Cousin Sophie responded with incredulity, noting that despite her protestations, she could see that the only thing that was not evident in her cousin’s small form was the lack of torpidity. But since she was fond of her, and was given to indulging her little cousin’s whims, she consented with a sigh, and completely resigned to her fate.

They sallied forth, and after journeying through the streets for several minutes they reached the park lane and entered Hyde Park through the Grosvenor Gate. Arms entwined, two cousins sauntered on the foot path, and embarked on a light conversation.

“You are too cruel to me, my dear,” said Sophie in a teasingly chiding tone. “To drag me from my bed so early! I declare I would be vexed with you the next time you’ll do it!”

Caroline dimpled at her. “I promise you there will be no next time!”

“And to say that you were fagged to death — fiddlesticks! Why, I’ve never seen such a sprightly creature so early in the morning!”

“I daresay you didn’t, for how could you, pray, when you wake up so late?”

Miss Winscott laughed despite herself. “No, how could I, indeed? Staying up until small hours always leaves me prostrate with fatigue. Besides, I am a heavy sleeper in the extreme, so it will be futile to wake me up unless — ” she threw her a look of reproach, “one is to shake me incessantly as you did!”

“Now that I think of it, the water jug might have proved to be more useful,” quipped her incorrigible cousin. “But it would be messy, I daresay, and I didn’t want you to be wet, so I’d settled on shaking instead.”

“Horrible!” exclaimed Miss Winscott. “That would be the shabbiest thing; however, since I believe that there is no mean bone in your body, I’m sure I can sleep till noon without any fear at all.” After some time, she told her: “You know, Lady Mortimer’s ball last night would have been tedious were it not for that little squabble in the ballroom. You wouldn’t have imagined it, my dear, for it was really the most shocking thing — ! But that puts me in mind of something! Where had you gone last night, Caro?”

Caroline let out a hearty yawn behind her hand before answering nonchalantly: “I told you I was at Lady Mortimer’s garden.”

“Stepping out for some air, no doubt!” Sophie returned with faint sarcasm.

“Well, of course!”

“But surely you didn’t stay in the garden for nearly an hour?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Miss Davis bit her lip, momentarily vacillating whether or not to tell her cousin of her adventure last night. She finally chose what she deemed the wisest path. “I must tell you something Sophie, but promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to my Aunt Emilia, will you?” she implored, but her eyes were alight with excitement that aroused suspicion and foreboding in her cousin’s bosom at once.

“Caro! If that is some sort of a scrape, which I certainly have no doubt it is, then nothing in the world could induce me to tell it to Mama! You may depend on it, she will ring a peal over you all day!”

“Yes, I thought so too, and that is monstrously vexing to the ears. But it is nothing of the sort!” Caroline assured her, but the impish smile that broke into her face exuded anything but assurance. “The truth is, I had a little adventure last night, Sophie!”

“Adventure — !” she gasped in dismay, her mind running wildly on the possible solecisms her little cousin had done this time. “Mischief, more likely! Oh, Caro, will you never, never learn? Believe me, these little adventures of yours will be your undoing one day!”

Seeing her distress, Caroline hurried into saying, “But I did not do any mischief last night, Sophie, I swear it! In fact, it was Lord Randwick who did — and a heinous one, I should say! Why, he followed me last night when I was strolling inside the hedge maze — ”

“Hedge maze! Of all places!” came the shock-stricken voice of Miss Winscott.

She nodded, not without a little guilt, and continued, “What’s more — and the worst of all, was that he declared himself and made improper advances to me afterwards! It was very terrible, for I’d never imagined one could have the audacity to make an offer of marriage when one is in his cups, as Lord Randwick certainly was!” she declared with vehemence. “And he reeked!”

“Oh, my poor, dear cousin!” Sophie moaned in sympathy and drew her poor cousin to her bosom. “You should have told me about it! Wicked, wicked man! You could have been compromised, or — or worse! Oh, he deserves a facer!”

With a little difficulty, Caroline extricated herself from her cousin’s strangling embrace. “Well, he did receive one!”

“Good gracious, you don’t say!”

“No, of course not!” she replied impatiently. “But something astonishing happened next! We were interrupted by a stranger who sneaked up on us, and what beats all was that he hit Lord Randwick very hard on the face before the poor man could even put up a struggle, and sure enough he was knocked out flat on his back not a second later! Of course I was a little stunned after that, but I dare swear could have applauded him for that marvelous piece of work!”

“Caroline, do you realize how precarious your situation must have been?” Miss Winscott demanded, her eyes wide with agitation. “If that person breathed one word of this affair, then you’ll be as good as ruined!”

“No, no — he wouldn’t! Don’t be cast into despair yet!” begged her cousin. “And, heavens, don’t look as though you are about to suffer a fit of vapours Sophie! Last night was not worth of that — well, not quite, anyway.”

Miss Winscott made a weak, nervous laugh, but said, “You are giving me severe qualms, my dear, and I can’t help it!”

“I know, and I am sorry for it, Cousin! Nevertheless, you must believe me when I say that I stand in no danger of being ruined. Here, why don’t we sit for a while?” They deposited themselves comfortably on a vacant bench. Sophie offered her a sheepish smile, saying, “You must think me a goose with more nerves than wit, Caro, but you know how delicate these things are! But if you say so, then I certainly believe you. Now, do tell me about this stranger who came to your rescue,” she prodded. “What was he like?”

Furrowing her black brows, Caroline took a moment’s pause to reminisce the last night’s event. The image of a forbidding young gentleman with piercing eyes and sullen countenance instantly sprang up, and since she was neither overwhelmed nor impressed by him, she declared flatly: “I’d say he was the most sour-faced man I ever likely encountered.”

Sophie’s eager face, which strongly suggested her expectation for some explicit descriptions of a romantic figure, visibly fell upon hearing this. “How disappointing!” she sighed. “If you said that he was not personable enough, my expectations could not be so crushed!”

Miss Davis let out a giggle. “Oh, but indeed, I found him rather handsome in a dark sort of way, though it disappointed me still, because I would have preferred him to be fair, and to have a great deal of charm which, sadly, that man obviously lacked. He conversed very little, for he was a very quiet gentleman, and I am inclined to think that he was far from being concerned about me or my plight,” she reflected. “And I am of the opinion that he is someone who doesn’t interests himself in gossips and very unlikely to start one.”

“That is a relief, to be sure,” replied Sophie, gradually losing interest on her cousin’s mysterious hero. “He sounds to me a very private man, and private men, no matter how reputable they are for their discretions, are lamentably dull creatures for the most part. I suppose he was one of Lady M’s guests last night? What was his name?”

The question had brought something of import to Miss Davis’ mind. The moment the realization had struck, her green eyes widened as she looked back at her cousin. “Now that you mentioned it, I’m afraid I did not get the chance to know his name!”she exclaimed.

“Well, I’m sure I am very grateful to him, but it is pointless to dwell on a nameless man, besides the fact that he is a dull creature and sour-faced,” said Miss Winscott, practically dismissing the topic. “Do let us talk of some things instead!”

“Gossips, more likely,” she muttered, slumping back on the bench.

“On-dits would be preferable, my dear.”

Caroline inadvertently let out an unladylike snort, but was rewarded with a pursed-lipped rebuke. “Proper ladies do not snort like that, miss, I’ll have you know!”

She widened her large, guileless green eyes at Sophie, and asked innocently, “Then how should a proper lady snort if not like that, I should like to know?”

“Impertinent girl!”

She let out a giggle, and after the fits of mirth subsided, she said: “Tell me about what happened in the ballroom last night. If it was a shocking episode as you said, no wonder my Aunt Emilia insisted on going home immediately after I returned; she couldn’t abide anything that is shocking. It was just a pity that I missed it!”

“Quite a pity, my dear!” Miss Winscott declared with unconcealed excitement of one who took pleasure in hearing the occasional lapses of the ton. “You are acquainted with Lord Wickham I believe?”

Miss Davis nodded, toying the ends her bonnet’s ribbons. “He is the Miss Lorrington’s beau, is he not?”

“Yes, and do you know what he did? Only the greatest piece of impropriety by calling Lord Stokeford out last night in front of hundreds of revelers in the ballroom! I wasn’t privy as to the rest of the details, but I got wind of something about Lord Stokeford giving poor Miss Lorrington an extremely rude cut just because she trampled on his foot which, of course, was purely accidental!”

“I think that is stupid,” she frowningly remarked. “Trampling on someone’s foot is, I believe, a most ordinary mishap that could ever occur in a ballroom, especially when one is dancing. It is vexing, of course, but there’s really no need to make a pother over it. Moreover,” she added naively, “I don’t see why Lord Wickham was the one who challenged this Lord Stokeford into a duel; to begin with, it wasn’t his foot that was harmed, was it?”

“No, but having heard of Miss Lorrington’s predicament, Lord Wickham charged rashly towards Lord Stokeford in a fit of temper, and the next thing we heard both men were exchanging insults! Indeed, everyone was on tenterhooks and was literally breathless when Lord Wickham finally threw down the gauntlet!”

“Well, I hope they would shoot each other dead,” Miss Davis uncharitably pronounced. “It seems to me that they are both stupid.”

“A more harebrained man than Lord Wickham I couldn’t have met, to be sure! Very disgraceful and foolish! I’ve always suspected him of a disagreeable character, and he only proved it last night.” she said scornfully. “It was just as well that Lord Stokeford had had the sense to withdraw and walk away, because they said he is an excellent shot, and that Lord Wickham wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Who is this Lord Stokeford, anyway?” asked Caroline, smothering another big yawn.

Miss Winscott sent her a darkling look. “The very man you shall be careful to deal with. Why, he will only scowl to send someone about his business!”

Miss Davis was not impressed. “If that were so, then I envy him, because no matter how I scowl at someone whom I wanted to send away, it is always to no avail.”

“No, my dear, you shan’t send anyone away in that disagreeable fashion,” declared her cousin firmly. “However, if someone annoys you so — ” she broke off, her attention suddenly riveted by something from afar. After a moment she gasped, and exclaimed in a voice of plain astonishment: “Heavens, if that isn’t Lord Stokeford — !”

With a great lack of interest, Caroline set her sight at the direction her cousin furtively indicated. Her eyes were momentarily arrested at a pair of riding men cantering towards the footpath, and if were not for the other one whose profile struck a chord in Miss Davis’ memory, they would have been in no way remarkable to her.Her eyes squinted slightly, not tearing away from that intriguing figure.She heard Sophie whispered frantically beside her: “Oh, dear. They’re coming this way!”

“Surely they won’t eat us, will they?”

“No, of course not! I am very well acquainted with Viscount March — that man in dark green riding coat — but Lord Stokeford is not yet introduced to me. Caro, pray, do not let us look at that way anymore, for it is very unseemly!”

Miss Davis, obediently turning her head away, said perceptively: “That can easily be rectified, for I’m sure they are coming this way with the very intention of making your acquaintance.”

As the two riders reined in their bays and dismounted just several yards away from them, the ladies found it incumbent to feigned a look of ignorance as to the gentlemen’s presence, thereby appearing disinterested in their imminent encounter. But for all this somewhat unnecessary pretense, Miss Davis, whose curiosity was escalating, couldn’t prevent her eyes from straying to that strange, familiar figure, and when it drew nearer to them, affording her with a better view of his person, recognition dawned on her. He had dark brown hair, and even from the distance, she could tell that his eyes were oddly piercing. In the broad daylight he looked taller and lithesome, but there was no mistaking that he was the very same man last night.

At exactly that same moment, a prudent advice, delivered in an urgent undertone, was confided into Lord Stokeford’s ears as they ambled towards the ladies on the bench while leading their horses. “For Lord’s sake, Stefan, if you wanted to win Miss Winscott, then start from getting yourself out of that pucker!”

The words did not entirely yield the most desirable of results, for nothing could have been more dampening than the deadpan expression Lord Stokeford had just assumed. It afforded little satisfaction to Lord March, who only chuckled in resignation and said, “Upon my word, you’re looking exactly like in some Dutchy fellow’s painting.”

“Well, what will you have me look like? A simpering puppy?” retorted Lord Stokeford.

“Lord, no! What I mean is, just a little smile, Stefan, just a little!” urged his friend. “Mind, Miss Winscott is an amiable young lady— treats her suitors in a mighty cordial way, y’know, but if you went to her looking stiff as your neckcloth then I shouldn’t wonder at it if she’d as lief talk to that knucklehead Melton.”

The Earl chose to ignore this undue comparison of himself to someone very much his inferior. “It’s a pity she has company,” he remarked.

Lord March broke into a rakish grin. “Not at all, my dear chap. I’ll gladly welcome distractions while you endeavour to woe our fair Miss Winscott.”

However, Stokeford didn’t pay any heed to this, as his eyes were already arrested by the young lady sitting beside Miss Winscott. For a while he was unsure of that countenance, but the moment they halted in front of them his lordship suffered a mild shock. Why, it was the chit whom he’d saved from Randwick’s clutches last night! Lord, what a small world indeed, he thought unpleasantly, and why must she — of all people — be accompanying Miss Winscott today? She looked equally surprised as he did, but the sudden twinkling of her eyes somehow made his lordship foresee that this morning would not augur well.

“Good morning, ladies!” the Viscount said. “Fine morning, isn’t it?”

The two young ladies curtsied prettily; Miss Winscott smiled and replied, “Good morning, my lord. I see that you’ve been riding.”

“Yes, well, it would be a pity to miss this very agreeable weather, wouldn’t it?” Lord March glanced at his friend. “Ah, but may I introduce to you my friend Lord Stokeford? Believe me, he’s been desirous of making your acquaintance since last night.”

The Earlbowed graciously and fixed a rather tight smile. A faint sound like a snort assailed his ears; with some suspicion, he tilted his head to the direction of Miss Winscott’s little companion. There was an odd twitching at the corners of her mouth, but her countenance was otherwise serene. He narrowed his gaze at her. Oblivious to this, Miss Winscott, not looking quite steadily at his eyes, murmured a pleasant how do you do, and introduced Miss Davis, her cousin who was presently staying with them for her first Season.

Lord Stokeford received these tidings with another bout of shock that soon gave way to a very unsettling feeling. He consequently relapsed into a meditative silence, reflecting dourly what devil of a coil he would likely find himself in if they were to hear his and Miss Davis’ absurd escapade in the hedge maze last night.

Meanwhile Lord March, failing to notice his friend’s resumed taciturnity, had enquired of Miss Davis’ time in London with polite interest. After being supplied with a narrative of her pursuits since arriving in town in a most lucid and animated fashion, the Viscount, himself being an unreserved converser, became absorbed by their amicable chat that they started to talk like long-time friends rather than the merest acquaintances. Miss Winscott was amused at seeing them getting on famously, but she felt a trifle discomfited by Lord Stokeford’s quiet presence. It was impolite not to include his lordship in the conversation (notwithstanding how disinclined he appeared to be), and since she was a young woman with sensibility and good manners, she tried to engage him in a conversation by asking if he was wont to ride around Hyde Park every morning?

The Earl, tearing away from his thoughts, was about to answer when Miss Davis’ cheerful voice broke into them, saying, “I daresay London is a huge city, but in someway it seems a small place after all, for one has to meet everyone in balls and assemblies. I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear this, but in truth Lord Stokeford and I had already met last night!”