“Hmm,” Peter said again, not sharing his friend’s amusement. That was an episode in his life that had been far from funny. He had outraged the ton, which collectively believed that he had come far too close to betrothing himself to Bertha Grantham to withdraw honorably, even though no formal announcement had yet been made. And he had delighted the younger male members of the beau monde, who had thought him one devil of a fine fellow for thumbing his nose at the polite world by crying off from a leg shackle at the last possible moment.

Dash it, it had not been funny at all. He had been at the tender age of twenty-one, innocent as a babe in arms, and cheerfully proceeding along the path through life his family and guardians had mapped out for him. Good God, he had even fallen dutifully in love with Bertha because it was expected of him. He had not even realized he possessed such a thing as a backbone until shock had caused him to flex it and put an end to that almost-engagement in a damnably gauche and public manner. It had been a very raw and painful backbone for a long time after that, though he had flexed it again only an hour or so later by sending his uncles-and former guardians-packing with the declaration that since he had reached his majority he did not need them any longer, thank you very much. Though he was not at all sure he had thanked them.

“The thing is,” he said, “that the girl’s hopes have possibly been raised, or her mama’s anyway-not to mention her father’s and her sisters’ and brothers’ and grandparents’ and cousins’. Lord!”

“Perhaps,” John Raycroft said, “you will like her, Whitleaf. Perhaps she will live up to her name.”

Peter grimaced. “I probably will,” he agreed. “I like women in general. But that is not the point, is it? I don’t intend marrying her-or anyone else not of my own choosing-even if she is as lovely as a thousand roses combined. And so I will be in the impossible situation of having to be courteous and amiable to her without giving the impression that I am courting her. And yet everyone else at this infernal house party will know very well why she has been invited-my mother will see to that. I tell you, Raycroft, you can wipe that grin off your face anytime you like.”