Gabe wished all the respectable men in the good ol’ U.S. of A. the best of luck. He was off to visit his kin on the other side of the world.

That would keep him out of harm’s-and Tracy’s-way, and besides, it had the added benefit of pleasing his mother who couldn’t go because she was just recovering from the flu and Martha, his sister, who was spending the semester abroad in Brazil.

In fact, Gabe was rather looking forward to a brief vacation visiting his English relatives-especially his mother’s father, Earl Stanton, who was about to celebrate the fact that, in Randall’s words, “Someone let the old devil live to be eighty, without strangling him.”

But Destiny? Who needed it?

When you were young, healthy and in your prime, when there were always more ladies besides Tracy eager for your company, and you had enough money to indulge yourself, you made your own Destiny.

Which went to show how wrong a man could be!

Lord Randall Stanton broke into a grin at the sight of his scapegrace cousin loping out of the Customs Hall, and let out a yell that sat oddly with his elegant tailoring. It was met by an answering yell from Gabe, and for a moment the two young men pounded each other like schoolboys.

“It’s good to see you,” Randall said. “Even if it did take a scandal to get you here.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabe declared innocently. “The old man’s eightieth-family duty, etc., etc., etc.-”

Randall just grinned. “Your mother called Grandpa just as I was leaving. Your secrets aren’t secrets any more.”