THE DAY AFTER LADY Cinthia’s disturbing visit to the school, Emilia sat in the courtyard once more, as she often did. Her drawing tools lay in their usual arrangement. The page before her, however, remained blank. She would study the row of blossoms she wished to capture, focus on the page, and then her mind would wander.

She let out a sigh. Truth be told, the only thing she wished to sketch was Mister Banbrook’s countenance. His strong jaw, his fathomless grey eyes. She wondered if she could capture his fleeting look of amusement. He was even more handsome when he permitted himself to be cheerful.

She shook her head to dispel his face from her mind, and narrowed her gaze on the flowers. The pink blooms where what she wished to draw. Flowers. Not a man who had no wish to wed, had failed in his promise to take her for a ride in the park and who, she suspected, loved Lady Cinthia. Emilia poised her hand over the page.

Could she count on Mister Banbrook? Even if he wasn’t for her, she still required his protection from Viscount Dunreid, and his aid. True, she’d danced at the second dance, a fine improvement over the first, but she hadn’t snared a suitor. Mister Banbrook had promised to help her find one.

Should she write Sir Stirling again? Ask for a new savior? But if she did that, would she ever see Mister Banbrook again? Not seeing him again seemed quite unacceptable. The thought hurt more than his failure to appear the previous afternoon.

Light footfalls broke into her awareness. She swiveled to find Mary approaching. Emilia wondered what new torment the girl was there to announce.

“Miss, there’s a gentleman asking if you’re in. A Mister Banbrook. He says he’s here to collect you for a ride in the park.”

Emilia stood, unable to suppress a sudden smile. “He’s in the large parlor? Please tell him I won’t be long.” She began stowing her drawing tools.

“I will, Miss. He’s in the small parlor, Miss.”

The small parlor. Emilia frowned. He wasn’t titled.

“Will you require one of us girls to accompany you, Miss?” Mary asked.

Emilia’s hands stilled. She didn’t want to be accompanied by one of Lady Peddington’s spying servants, even if Mary always seemed kind. “Did he arrive in an open vehicle, or closed?”

“A curricle, Miss. A very fine one.”

Emilia raised her eyebrows at that observation. How fine was very fine? Mister Banbrook dressed impeccably, but then the English always did, even if they ended up in debtor’s prison to do so. Yet Mary said he waited in the small parlor. Was he wealthy?

“Given he’s arrived in a curricle, I feel I shall be well enough chaperoned by the community at large, but thank you for the offer.”

“It’s my duty, Miss.”

“Thank you,” Emilia repeated.

The maid left and Emilia finished stowing her drawing tools. She tried not to appear in an unseemly hurry as she carried them to her room, where she would collect gloves, shawl and bonnet. Her feet, however, seemed to wish for a happy pace. Her heart beat easier knowing Mister Banbrook hadn’t abandoned her.

Once properly attired for a ride in the park, Emilia went to the small parlor to find Mr. Banbrook seated on the same settee Lady Cinthia had used. He made the delicate piece look small, almost child-sized. In one flowing movement, he stood and executed a graceful bow.

“Miss Glasbarr. I have come for our agreed upon outing to the park.”

The perfect neutrality of his tone halted her in the doorway. She hadn’t expected warmth, of course, but he seemed almost as if he contained ire. With the English, a cool façade could mean so many things, but his grey eyes were intent on her and not overly convivial in cast. His gaze moved to her throat. She touched her neck, worried something was there.

“Thank you?” She winced at the question in her voice.

“It is my pleasure,” he said in those same cool, clipped tones.

Is it? She wondered. She would more believe the opposite. “I do realize ye must be busy, Mister Banbrook. I mean, you must have other things to do with your day than escort young misses about. If you don’t have the time to take me, I—”

He held up a staying hand. “I do have the time.” Some of the tension left his features. “I was looking forward to a ride in the park with you, Miss Glasbarr.”

Was? Did that mean he wasn’t any longer? How could his attitude toward her have cooled so when she hadn’t set eyes on him since the second ball? “Thank you,” she repeated.

His gaze returned to her neck. She wished for a mirror. Had she broken out in hives? She felt nervous enough to have.

“Shall we?” He raised his eyebrows.

Emilia realized she blocked the doorway. Her face heated as she turned and led the way to the foyer. She mumbled thanks to the butler who opened the door to permit her escape into the cooler air of the street. Her attention fell on a magnificent matched pair of Cleveland Bays.

Their coats gleamed with health, and their deep chestnut tone and glossy black manes mimicked to perfection the lacquered wood and dark trim of the curricle they drew. She could see why even a city-bred girl like Mary would be impressed, though the maid likely saw the vehicle rather than the superb equine specimens.

Mister Banbrook halted beside her. Emilia schooled her awed expression. She made certain her mouth was closed and headed down the steps. She wished she could introduce herself to the bays but, if she’d learned anything at Lady Peddington’s School, it was that gentlemen didn’t care to have their realms invaded by females unless they led the conversation there, and horseflesh was a man’s business.

Mister Banbrook handed her up, palm warm through his glove. When he climbed in beside her, the curricle dipped, but evened back out. She hid a smile, thinking the team would be better pleased if their master could sit in the center of the bench seat. With his tall frame, he must weigh twice what she did, even if she was too plumply curved, as Lady Cinthia had noted.

Emilia held her breath when Mister Banbrook took up the reins, for it would be a travesty if he couldn’t handle the pair as well as they deserved. She expelled the air she held, relieved when he guided the curricle into traffic with the offhanded surety of skill. He navigated the mild chaos of Charlotte Square with ease.

By the time they reached the park, Emilia’s mood had lightened. The day was fine, even brighter than the one before and possessed of a light, warm breeze. She rode in the most elegant vehicle she’d ever set eyes on, pulled by a peerless team, with a tall, handsome Englishman beside her. She would not dwell on the fact that he was not to be her tall and handsome Englishman, but rather would enjoy the beauty of the ride.

Mister Banbrook merged his curricle into the parade of vehicles circling within the park, the gentry in each on display for one another. She wore her best day dress, but Emilia realized she appeared a bit shabby for the occasion. Other women wore hats piled high with adornments, held lace parasols offering flattering, dappled shade, and sported glittering jewels. She hoped Mister Banbrook wasn’t embarrassed by her appearance. Certainly, she wasn’t fine enough to occupy his curricle.

She couldn’t suppress a small sigh. How would she ever attract a husband? She had no dowry, no willowy grace like Lady Cinthia, and not enough funds to purchase clothing that would conceal either condition.

“Sighing, Miss Glasbarr?” Mister Banbrook’s tone was still neutral, though no longer as cool.

Emilia put a hand to her mouth. To sigh was bad manners. In truth, she hadn’t needed finishing school to know that.

“I am not engaging you in proper conversation, I know,” Mister Banbrook continued. “Please forgive me.”

She dropped her hand. “Oh, no, the error is mine. I am meant to begin conversation, I believe. On the weather, or perhaps the classics. Being a bit overwhelmed by the display before me, I forgot.”

“The display?” He turned his head, and took in the other carriages. “Edinburgh needs a larger park.”

“I think the park is lovely.” Did he think his English cities so much grander? “Not every place is London, or wants to be.” Her hand went back to her mouth as her aggrieved tone reached her ears. She needed to learn to shut her mouth and keep it closed.

Mister Banbrook looked at her askance. “Which is fortunate. The world would be a boring place were every city the same.”

Emilia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They rode on in silence. Her mood well dampened once more, she cast about for a safe topic.

“You meant the other ladies, I take it?” Mister Banbrook said. “Your sigh was of the envious sort?”

So, he’d noticed her unmodish attire. Not surprising, since there was no hiding her drab garb. Emilia shrugged. “They look awfully fine, but my sigh wasn’t envy. More, well, despair. How can I attract a husband, any husband, with such a display? No man will notice me.”

“If you look about you, I think you’ll find many men noticing you.”

“They’re noticing you, Mister Banbrook, and your curricle and team. If they look at me, they glance only to wonder why you would possibly keep company with someone so shabby.”

“If any suggest as much, I’ll put them in their place,” he replied.

Emilia felt a blush threaten, for his words seemed oddly sincere.

“You’re the most beguiling creature in this park,” he continued. “Men don’t care about bonnets heaped with bows and lace, or dresses trimmed out in the latest fashion. We often don’t even notice such things. Or the lack of jewelry.”

Her hand went to her throat again. Did he know Viscount Dunreid had given her a necklace? Was that why he was cool, why he kept looking at her neck? But so few people knew. He wouldn’t have learned such a detail from the viscount.

No, if Mister Banbrook knew, the knowledge could only have come from the viscountess. So, he was keeping company with Lady Cinthia. Emilia suppressed another sigh. The thought was like someone draping her in a sopping wet cloak. The knowledge stole all potential joy from the day.

High above, a fluffy cloud slid across the sun. Emilia squinted heavenward, finding the sudden dimness fit her mood. Across the open expanse they rode, she could see sunshine in other areas of the park. The light made the ladies’ jewels sparkle.

“Now you truly are letting the conversation lapse, Miss Glasbarr,” Mister Banbrook said. He watched her from the corner of his eye. “I mentioned your lack of jewelry.”

“I own no jewelry, Mister Banbrook. Though I can’t think my lack of adornment a fitting topic to discuss after so short an acquaintance, I will say that if anyone observed I do not wear, say, a necklace, and attempted to rectify the absence, I would certainly return such an item.” She sought to press the disappointment of his involvement with Lady Cinthia from her mind so she could glean why he was so dogged about the pendant.

“Would you, now?”

“I would,” she said firmly. He must wish to know if he was wasting his time, she concluded. If she had accepted a present from Dunreid, Mister Banbrook had no reason to help her. “To keep such a gift, let alone wear it, would be tantamount to accepting a proposal from a gentleman. I would no’ do so lightly.”

“Even if the object in question was quite valuable? Something you could sell at a later date?”

“Especially then,” she said, a touch exasperated. Must the English always be so convoluted?

“That’s good to know, and I apologize for my unfitting topic.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mister Banbrook was so very English. Couched in impeccable manners, they did as they pleased, then apologized with the same stiff aplomb. A Scot would have asked if she’d accepted the gift, taken her no as a yes, and gone off to challenge Viscount Dunreid.

Some of her exasperation fled. No, not challenge him, for Mister Banbrook was not her suitor. He was only there to find her one.