Hugo raised his brows. "So at long last Miss Mannering's escaped the maternal clutches?"

Philip shook his head. "Lady Mannering died about a year ago. Henrietta renewed her entreaties with a vengeance but, if I recall Henrietta's ramblings aright, Antonia was adamant on remaining at Mannering Park to care for her brother-he's much younger than she." Philip frowned. "I can't remember how old he'd be now-I can't even remember his name."

"Whatever, it looks like she's changed her mind."

"Knowing Antonia, that's unlikely. Not unless she's altered dramatically." After a moment, Philip added, "Perhaps her brother's gone up to Oxford?"

Studying his friend's distant expression, Hugo sighed. "I hate to be obvious but there's a mystery here, in case you haven't noticed."

Philip glanced at him. "Mystery?"

"You've seen the lady!" Hugo sat up, gesticulating freely. "There she is-beautiful as be damned. Not a giddy girl, nor yet too long in the tooth but the sort to stop a charge of chasseurs in their tracks. And, to all appearances, she's unwed." Sinking back in his chair, Hugo shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. If she's as well-born and well-connected as you say, she'd have been snapped up years ago." As an afterthought, he asked, "They do have gentlemen up north, don't they?"

Philip's brows slowly rose. "I'm sure they do-and they can't all be blind." A long moment passed while they both considered a situation that, in their experience, constituted a conundrum. "A mystery indeed," Philip eventually mused. "Given the facts you've so eloquently expounded, I can only conclude that you and I, dear Hugo, might be the first to catch sight of Miss Mannering in many a long year."

Hugo's eyes slowly widened. "You're not suggesting her mama kept her locked up?"