“That is none of your concern,” she said. “I’ve the matter entirely in hand, don’t worry.”

“Lady Templeton, was that innuendo?” came Willingham’s voice from behind them, startling them both.

Diana chanced a glance over her shoulder; Willingham was riding close behind her and Penvale, watching her with a devilish glint in his eye that she liked and disliked in almost equal measure.

“I overheard the words in hand, you see,” Willingham continued, “and I could not prevent my mind from wandering down a happy mental detour, much as I tried to steer it back on course.”

Diana could practically feel her brother’s eyes roll, though her gaze remained fixed on the path ahead. “If you are going to flirt with my sister, Willingham, I am going to ride elsewhere,” Penvale said. He didn’t sound particularly concerned, but he did spur his horse into a faster trot, allowing Willingham to take his spot next to Diana instead.

“Shouldn’t you be leading the party?” she asked crabbily. She craned her neck, not seeing anyone behind them. “Are you the last rider? I thought Violet and Audley were back there somewhere.”

“Ah, they were,” Willingham said in a strangled voice. “Audley and I were having a perfectly pleasant conversation when Violet suddenly invented some calamity—something about her saddle straps needing to be tightened.” He grinned at Diana. “They’re back there somewhere, but I wouldn’t recommend looking for them, lest you see something scarring.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Diana said, barely suppressing a shudder.

“I frightened off Penvale, I see.”

“I should be thanking you for that. There’s only so much of my brother’s company I can take.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t cozying up to Lady Helen, enumerating my charms,” Willingham said, giving her a dazzling smile. It was one she had seen him use on numerous ladies, with universal success.

She gave him a severe look. His smile widened.

“Are you asking me to do so?” she inquired, deciding that two could play at this game. “I had no idea you were so moved by her great beauty and, er…” She faltered, searching for another complimentary adjective to describe the lady in question. “Flattery,” she finished weakly.

“I’m asking no such thing,” he said, seeming unconcerned. “But I saw you and my dear grandmother cozily chatting at the breakfast table, so I thought to warn you now that it would be wasted effort.”

“Of course,” she said demurely.

He shot her a suspicious look at that.

“You are, as ever, correct,” she added innocently.

His look of suspicion became one of alarm. “What are you planning?” he demanded.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about, my dear marquess,” she said, smiling at him like the cat that got the cream. “Nothing at all.”

Eleven

It was difficult to be terribly concerned about anything, Jeremy reflected, when one was seated upon a soft blanket under a cloudless English summer sky, with good wine and good food at hand.

Difficult, but not impossible. Lady Helen made sure of that.

The lady was seated to his right—he had never seen someone in a corset move as quickly as she had to claim a spot at his elbow—and had spent the past three-quarters of an hour flirting with him in a way that would have been mildly flattering had it not been so terrifying. Rothsmere was seated just one blanket away with Penvale and Langely; surely he would notice the wild improprieties being enacted by his sister. Jeremy tried to catch his friend’s eye, with no success whatsoever; Rothsmere appeared entirely occupied with the array of cheeses displayed before him. There would be no help from that quarter, clearly.

Jeremy thought back over his actions of the past twenty-four hours, trying in vain to recall a moment at which he had given Lady Helen any sort of encouragement, and failed—she must just be remarkably determined. It would have been an admirable quality under any other circumstances. Now, however, when that determination resulted in her hand stroking his forearm in a disturbing fashion, it was merely alarming.

“… and that,” she concluded, her fingers encircling his wrist, “is how I convinced my brother to purchase me a puppy.”

“Fascinating, Lady Helen,” said Diana, who was sharing their blanket. “It must be so charming to have a puppy about the house.”

“Well,” Lady Helen said, wrinkling her nose, “the puppy proved to be a bit smellier than I anticipated. It kept having accidents on the rugs. William finally put his foot down and it lives in the stables at the moment. It will be allowed indoors once it’s been properly trained.”

“Ah, yes, quite understandable,” Diana said, blinking solemnly. “Still, you must be very pleased that you were able to so cleverly convince your brother to get you the puppy in the first place.”

Lady Helen looked rather taken aback at this unexpected show of approbation, and Jeremy couldn’t blame her—wide-eyed simpering did not suit Diana one bit. He gave her a narrow look, which she ignored.

“Willingham,” she said, shifting her gaze from Lady Helen to him, “I do believe Lady Helen needs more wine.”

“Oh,” said Lady Helen, looking down. “Well, Mama always says that only one glass at luncheon is permissible.”