The viscount had looked up lazily when Claire had first spoken, but had neither moved, released Harriet, nor altered his expression. “And you are?” he finally drawled, his heavy-lidded gaze surveying Claire from head to toe before coming back to rest on her face.

“I am Claire Russell, Harriet’s older sister and I must insist that you release her immediately. It is wholly inappropriate for her to be in attendance here. As you well know, Harriet,” she added, turning to her sister.

“Auntie said I could come,” Harriet mutinously retorted, her pretty mouth pursed in a pout.

“Our aunt was no doubt mistaken about the style of entertainment.” Claire refused to admit that her aunt would stoop so low in order to snare a man like Ormond. Although, from the viscount’s sudden amused expression, she rather thought he already knew.

“Why don’t I have a servant see your sister home,” the viscount graciously offered, pushing away from the wall and easing Harriet back a step. “I’ll take you riding in the park tomorrow, poppet,” he added, smiling to assuage Harriet’s frown. He lifted his hand in a negligent gesture and was immediately acknowledged by a footman, the man seemingly materializing out of thin air. “There, now, my sweet,” the viscount said, brushing Harriet’s cheek with his finger. “Jordan will see you home. And I shall call on you tomorrow at four.”

Harriet glared at her sister. “You are ever so vexing, Cleery. Do go away,” she pettishly said. “I am not a child you can order about!”

Ormond nodded at his footman and a look of understanding passed between them. “Now, now, don’t chide your sister,” the viscount calmly murmured. “She’s merely concerned with the-ah…environment. And on second thought, I believe she’s right.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” Claire replied, coolly. “Come, Harriet.” Fully expecting to be obeyed, she turned to go.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Russell.” The viscount seized her arm with a quickness that belied his fashionable languor and pulled her back.