Minx

Sarah-Jane was either exceedingly foolish or she just didn't notice the furious gleam in his eyes. "Both, I suppose. She is rather forward, don't you think?"

"No," he bit off, "I don't."

"Oh." The corners of her lips turned up ever-so-slightly. "Well, I'm sure everyone will realize that soon." She offered him a pouty smile and then moved on.

Dunford swiveled his head to regard Henry once more. Was she being too forward? She did have a rather vibrant laugh. He'd always taken it as a sign of a happy and delightful person, but a different sort of man might see it as an invitation. He moved over to Alex's side, where he could keep a better eye on her.

Henry, meanwhile, had managed to convince herself that she was having a splendid time. Everyone seemed to think she was terribly attractive and witty, and to a woman who had spent most of her life without friends, this was a heady combination, indeed. The Earl of Billington was paying her particular attention, and she could tell from the stares she was receiving that he was not usually given to paying court to young debutantes. Henry found him rather attractive and personable and began to think that if there were more men like him, she just might be able to find someone with whom she could be happy. Perhaps even the earl. He seemed intelligent, and although his hair was reddish brown, his warm brown eyes reminded her of Dunford's.

No, Henry thought, that should not be a point in the earl's favor.

Then again, she decided in the spirit of fairness, it shouldn't necessarily be a point against him either.

"And do you ride, Miss Barrett?" the earl was saying.

"Of course," Henry replied. "I grew up on a farm, after all."

Belle coughed.

"Really? I had no idea."

"In Cornwall." Henry decided to spare Belle the agony. "But you do not want to hear about my farm. There must be thousands just like it. Do you ride?" She asked that last question with a teasing look in her eye; it was a given that all gentlemen rode.

Billington chuckled. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you for a ride in Hyde Park sometime soon?"

"Oh, but I couldn't do that."

"I'm crushed, Miss Barrett."

"I don't even know your name," Henry continued, her smile lighting up her face. "I couldn't possibly make an appointment to ride with a man I know only as 'the earl.' It's terribly daunting, you know, being merely a 'miss' myself. I'll be quaking the entire time for fear I'll offend you."

This time Billington laughed loudly. He gave her a smart bow. "Charles Wycombe, madam, at your service."

"I should love to go for a ride with you, Lord Billington."

"Do you mean to tell me I went to the trouble of introducing myself to you, and you still mean to call me 'Lord Billington?'"

Henry cocked her head to the side. "I really don't know you very well, Lord Billington. It would be dreadfully improper of me to call you Charles, don't you think?"

"No," he said with a lazy smile, "I don't."

A warm feeling flushed through her, almost, but not quite, identical to what she felt when Dunford smiled at her. Henry decided she liked this feeling even better. There was still that lovely sensation of being wanted, cared for, possibly loved, but with Billington she managed to retain some measure of control. When Dunford chose to bestow one of his grins on her, it was like going over a waterfall.

She could sense him near her, and she glanced to her left. He was there, just as she had known he would be, and he gave her a mocking nod. For one moment Henry's entire body reacted, and she forgot how to breathe. Then her mind retook control, and she turned resolutely back to Lord Billington. "It is good to know your given name, even if I do not intend to use it," she said with a secret smile. "For it is difficult to think of you as 'the earl.'"

"Does that mean you will think of me as Charles?"

She shrugged delicately.

It was at that point that Dunford decided he had better intercede. Billington looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take Henry's hand, lead her out to the garden, and kiss her senseless. Dunford found that feeling unpleasantly easy to understand. He took three swift steps and was at her side, putting his arm through hers in a most proprietary manner.

"Billington," he said with as much warmth as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn't much.

"Dunford. I understand you are responsible for bringing this delightful creature to the attention of the ton."

Dunford nodded. "I am her guardian, yes."

The orchestra struck up the first chords of a waltz. Dunford's hand stole down Henry's arm and settled around her wrist.

Billington executed another bow in Henry's direction. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Barrett?"

Henry opened her mouth to reply, but Dunford was faster. "Miss Barrett has already promised this dance to me."

"Ah, yes, as her guardian, of course."

The earl's words made Dunford want to rip his lungs out. And Billington was a friend. Dunford clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to growl. What the hell was he going to do when men with whom he wasn't friends began to court her?

Henry frowned in irritation. "But—"

Dunford's hand tightened considerably around her wrist. Her protest died a quick death. "It was very nice to meet you, Lord Billington," she said with unfeigned enthusiasm.

He nodded urbanely. "Very nice, indeed."

Dunford scowled. "If you'll excuse us." He started to lead Henry out toward the dance floor.

"Perhaps I don't want to dance with you," Henry ground out.