Everyone else had some contribution to make-all except Whitticombe. He held himself aloof, cloaked in chilly disapproval.

When the talk of shooting threatened to flag, Vane set down his glass. "I think it's time we rejoined the ladies."

In the drawing room, Patience waited impatiently, and tried not to stare at the door. They'd been passing the port for more than half an hour; God only knew what undesirable views Gerrard was absorbing. She'd already uttered innumerable prayers that the rain would blow over and the following morning dawn fine. Then Mr. Vane Cynster would be on his way, taking his "gentlemanly elegance" with him.

Beside her, Mrs. Chadwick was instructing Angela: "There are six of them-or were. St. Ives married last year. But there's no question on the matter-Cynsters are so well bred, so very much the epitome of what one wishes to see in a gentleman."

Angela's eyes, already round as saucers, widened even more. "Are they all as well set-up as this Mr. Cynster?"

Mrs. Chadwick shot Angela a reproving glance. "They are all very elegant, of course, but I've heard it said Vane Cynster is the most elegant of them all."

Patience swallowed a disgusted humph. Just her luck-if she and Gerrard had to meet a Cynster, why did it have to be the most elegant one? Fate was playing games with her. She'd accepted Minnie's invitation to join her household for the autumn and winter and then to go to London for the Season, sure that fate was smiling benevolently, intervening to smooth her path. There was no doubt she'd needed help.

She was no fool. She'd seen months ago that, although she'd been nursemaid, surrogate mother, and guardian to Gerrard all his life, she could not provide the final direction he needed to cross the last threshold into adulthood.

She couldn't be his mentor.

Nowhere in his life had there been a suitable gentleman on whose behaviour and standards Gerrard could base his own. The chances of discovering such a gentleman in deepest Derbyshire were slight. When Minnie's invitation had arrived, informing her that there were gentlemen staying at Bellamy Hall, it had seemed like fate's hand at work. She'd accepted the invitation with alacrity, organized for the Grange to run without her, and headed south with Gerrard.