With an acute sense of dismay she realized that she must look a perfect fright, which was something she was decidedly unaccustomed to. Lilah Remy was always perfectly turned out, regardless of occasion, weather, or exertion. It was part and parcel of her reputation for matchless beauty. Her eyes flew to Jocelyn San Pietro. His eyes were on her, twinkling. His lips, though firmly pressed together beneath that dashing mustache, gave the impression that they were battling a smile.

"Oh dear," she said, dropping her hands. He leaned over and plucked a twig of honeysuckle from her hair. For a moment only he held it with long, powerful- looking fingers, and then he tucked it carefully into the breast pocket of the black cutaway coat he wore beneath his driving coat so that a single blossom still showed. Lilah was charmed by the gesture. Beside her, she thought she heard Mr. Calvert grind his teeth.

"A slight disarray only serves to point up the perfection of beauty that nature has wrought in you, Miss Remy," Mr. San Pietro said with a slight bow and a soulful look. Lilah could not forbear from chuckling at him, and he grinned in response. Suddenly her ripped dress and untidy hair ceased to matter so much. Perhaps she could be accused of being vain, but she had hated the thought that he was seeing her at less than her best. His too-flowery compliment put her at ease again, as it had doubtless been designed to do.

"I fear you are a flatterer, Mr. San Pietro." She said it severely, but her eyes smiled at him. He shook his head, reaching for her hand again and tucking it back in the crook of his arm.

"Perhaps there is a back entry?" he suggested. Lilah nodded, and with her hand on his arm indicated the way toward the rear of the house. With her free hand she held her skirt clear of the fresh-scythed grass, though she supposed the gesture was useless as the dress was undoubtedly ruined. Or perhaps Betsy could repair it enough to pass it along to one of the kitchen maids…? Mr. Calvert and Hercules brought up the rear of the little procession, and it was not the dog who was growling.