The angel smiled.

And perhaps sealed his doom.

Something about him suggested an innocence to match his angelic looks.

He was no doubt a very wealthy man indeed – Cassandra had just realized that the women behind her were talking about him.

"Oh," one of them said with a sigh, "there is the Earl of Merton with Mr. Huxtable. Have you ever seen a more gorgeous man than he? And all that wealth and property to go with the looks. As well as the title. And golden hair and blue eyes and good teeth and a charming smile. It does not seem fair that one man should have so much. If I were just ten years younger – and single again."

They all laughed.

"I think I would prefer Mr. Huxtable," one of the others said. "In fact, I know I would. All that brooding darkness, and those Greek looks. I would not mind if he set his boots beneath my bed one of these days when Rufus was gone."

There were shrieks of shocked glee from her companions, and Cassandra noticed when she glanced at Alice that her lips had thinned almost to the point of disappearing altogether and that there were two spots of color high in her cheeks.

Angel and innocence and wealth and aristocracy, Cassandra thought. Could there be a more potent mix?

"I am either about to melt in a puddle on the path," she said, "or explode into a million pieces. Neither of which is something I would enjoy. Shall we leave the crowd and walk home, Alice?"

"Some people," her former governess said as they set off across an almost deserted lawn, "ought to have their mouths smacked and then washed out with soap. It is no wonder their children are so badly behaved, Cassie. And then they expect their /governesses/ to exert discipline without scolding or slapping the little darlings."

"It must be very provoking to you," Cassandra said.