Rachel had not intended to fall in love with a clergyman. Indeed she had not intended to fall in love with anyone. She had prattled horribly there on the pavement. She had even asked the new vicar if he would have the second waltz with her that evening. Had she really done that? Yes, she really had. Mortifying thought. She had never asked a man to dance with her or walk with her or drive with her. Where was the need, when gentlemen fell all over themselves and one another to be granted the privilege of engaging her in one of those activities? She sometimes asked Algie, of course, but that was a different matter entirely. They had been friends for as far back as she could remember. She had asked the Reverend Gower to dance with her!

David! What a beautiful name. She had always imagined the hero of the David-and-Goliath story as just such a handsome man. This man, of course, would hardly fit into that story with his height. But then the biblical David had grown into King David, had he not?

By the time the Edgeley carriage drew to a halt outside the house on Grosvenor Square and set down the two young ladies, Celia Barnes was wondering if all the late nights and fairly early mornings were finally catching up on her friend. Rachel had gone for almost ten whole minutes without uttering a single word. She had been sitting in the carriage, holding on to the leather strap, a glazed look in her eyes and an almost foolish half-smile on her lips.

"Do you think the Brussels lace will be just a little too fussy for this evening, Celia?" she asked anxiously as she turned to wait for the footman to help her friend out of the carriage. "I do not wish to appear overdressed."