When Mary laid out Helen’s floral cambric, Diana gave a moue of distaste. “Why don’t you wear your lilac sarsnet? It makes your eyes look mysterious.”

In her chemise, stays, and petticoats, Helen turned to her with a sigh. “It’s afternoon tea, not a soirée.”

Diana’s golden eyebrows drew together in an exasperated frown. “That’s no reason for you not to look your best.”

“The gentleman is not coming to see me,” Helen said. “You look so pretty in that primrose muslin, Diana, I doubt he’ll notice me at all.”

“Mama has met Lord Peyton. He served under Wellington and is over thirty.”

Helen smiled wryly. “Too old for you, then.”

Diana gave a carefree shrug. “Debutantes often marry much older gentlemen.”

When the maid finished fastening the hooks down Helen’s back and stepped away, Helen smoothed the high-necked collar of the cream, brown, and gray patterned dress before the mirror then, leaning closely, tweaked a curl beside her ear to better hide the scar. They were to receive several callers this afternoon. Lady Moncrieff and her daughter, Charlotte, who she was launching this Season, and the Baker twins, whose mother always reminisced about the success of her own Season many years ago.

Helen tamped down a yearning for the country in spring, as she did every Season. She had to steel herself, aware that they would be inundated with invitations once everyone returned to the city. She ruthlessly banished the idyllic dream of rolling green hills dotted with daisies and black and white cows. She would remain in London and attend a dozen Almack’s dances if need be to see Diana married to the love of her life. “Shall we go down?”

“I am looking forward to seeing Peyton again,” Diana said as they descended the stairs together. “I know you will approve of him.”

Helen laughed. “How can you be sure on such short acquaintance?”

“Well, he has the most wonderful dark green eyes, but there’s much more to him than that, as you’ll see.”

“Not that old dress, Helen!” Mama sighed as she swept down the staircase behind them, the hem of her claret-colored gown raised in one slender hand. With her tall slim figure and long neck, their mother was always graceful. And Father adored her. Helen had once hoped that a man would feel that way about her. But four Seasons on from her first introduction to the ton, she no longer considered it possible.

She was forced to accept that, although she’d been born into a family of striking good looks, hers were passable at best. She’d inherited her mother’s abundant chestnut hair and gray eyes, but not her tall, willowy frame. And none of her vivacity. Helen knew she lacked countenance. She was like a small gray dove amongst a batch of showy peacocks. The only time she had reached for the moon it had ended in disaster. She was extremely unlikely to ever do it again.

At a quarter to two, their butler, Fiske, showed Lord Peyton, into the drawing room carrying a valise. Seen at close quarters, he was indeed handsome, with a tall lithe figure and disordered ebony curls that rejected his large hand’s attempt to tame them. Immaculate in a marine blue tailcoat, thigh-tight fawn trousers, and a patterned cream silk waistcoat with etched silver buttons, his lengthy stride took him smartly across the carpet’s swirls of pink and gold to where Helen, her mother, Diana, and Toby, had risen from the twin sofas beside the fireplace.

“Lord Peyton, how good to see you again,” Mama said. “May I introduce you to my children?”

“I have already had the pleasure of meeting two of them.” He smiled at Diana and Toby. “Forgive me for being a little early. I wanted to see you before the rush of afternoon callers.”

“You are forgiven, my lord.” With a smile, Mama placed a gentle hand on Helen’s shoulder, giving her the tiniest push. “I don’t believe you’ve met my eldest daughter, Lady Helen.”

“No, indeed.” Observant dark green eyes flecked with gold and fringed with dark lashes acknowledged Helen from beneath straight jet-black brows. He bowed. “How do you do.”

“My lord.” Maddeningly, Helen felt herself blush as she curtseyed. Diana was right; he was uncommonly handsome. But more disturbingly, there was a wealth of experience in those eyes.

“I must beg your forgiveness, Lord Peyton. We are at sixes and sevens here with Bartholomew, our footman, and a kitchen boy both taken to their beds with a malaise, and Bartholomew,” Mama explained, “remains quite ill.” She gestured to the adjacent upholstered chair. “I have ordered tea. Or would you care for wine?”

“Tea would be most welcome, thank you.” He sat and crossed his long legs. “It is good of you to see me with his lordship away. As you will be aware, there are considerable alterations to be made to Green Park and its environs. I have been sent to explain the process to those who will be most affected.”

“But not to hear our objections?” Mama asked.

A smile tugged at his lips, revealing white teeth. “Mr. Nash appreciates honesty.”

“Of that, I have some doubt.” Mama returned his smile. “I have met Mr. Nash, a remarkable architect who would have scant desire for my opinion. However, I am keen to see what you have brought.”

Jeremy, their sole footman at present, entered with a maid and began unloading the tea trays onto the low table. Helen automatically rose to assist them. She presided over the silver teapot on its warming stand.

“I shall pour while you peruse his lordship’s papers, Mama.” Her mother had reluctantly relinquished the task to her, with the proviso that Helen need not expect to continue the practice as the family spinster.

“If you’ll permit me.” Lord Peyton moved a side table closer to her mother. He opened his valise and removed several drawings.

Toby left his seat for a closer look. “I say, sir, garden design is an interest of mine. I am a great admirer of Capability Brown. Grandfather employed him for the gardens at Walcott, and they are regarded as being amongst the best in England.”

Lord Peyton smiled. “Ah yes, Lord Tobias, Lancelot Brown did indeed create some very fine gardens. I should appreciate your thoughts on these.”

Unrolling the plans, he spread them out over the table. “As you can see there will be a large planting of trees.”

Toby leaned over them. “Will the temples and the library remain?”

“For the present,” Lord Peyton said.

Toby launched into a discussion of the hated return of geometric-styled gardens, reinforcing his argument with references to Virgil and the idyllic images of the Roman Campagna, depicted by the seventeenth-century French landscape painter Claude Lorrain.

Not wishing to distract her brother, but taking pity on the earl, Helen offered him the plate of dainty ham and cress sandwiches. He added several to his plate with a polite nod then turned back to Toby, who had moved on to the literature of Pope to support his view.

“I believe enough has been said about the previous century, Toby.” Mama smiled at him. “We must move forward.”

“It all looks quite wonderful!” Diana said breathlessly and fluttered her lashes at his lordship.

“And you, Lady Helen?” Lord Peyton turned to her.

Coming under his scrutiny, Helen caught her breath at the force of his masculinity. His olive skin was lightly sunburned. Not one of those gentlemen who favored the night and slept past noon, perhaps. There was a faint ray of lines at the corners of his eyes as if he smiled a lot. But the harsh set to his angular jaw and his firm mouth discounted any assessment of softness in his character. His delay in seeking them out had not been explained to her satisfaction. “I hope the man you sought in the park finally appeared, my lord?”

“Not as yet.”

Did he think her inquisitive? “The trees appeal to me. Especially the varied species,” she said, hastily answering his question. “I greatly admire my grandfather’s gardens. And we have a splendid variety of trees at Cherrywood.”

Distracting herself, she added more hot water to the pot as her mother drew his lordship into conversation. Peyton certainly could be charming and had her mother laughing at something he’d read about King George’s stables in Brighton. It was stated that the horses in their heated stables were far more comfortable than the guests. Then, when Toby seized an opportunity to draw him back to a discussion of gardens, she liked that Peyton patiently listened and agreed.

Diana was enamored of him, and eyeing the breadth of Lord Peyton’s shoulders, Helen could quite see why. Was she being too suspicious? He did have a valid reason to come and discuss the proposal for Green Park. And it might well be that Diana’s beauty had drawn him here. No doubt the first of many gentlemen to call once the Season began.

 

***

Jason returned the plans that Parnell had procured for him to his valise. Plans that gave him an introduction to every house along the Queen’s Walk. However, he would have to become more inventive if he were to discover what lay behind this latest threat to English security.

He glanced into Lady Helen’s large gray eyes and, seizing the silver tongs, took a lump of sugar from the bowl she offered him. Not a great beauty like Helen of Troy, but a curvaceous young woman with a very kissable plump Cupid’s-bow mouth. She favored neither of her tall parents. She had an air of quiet reserve, but he suspected she missed little. He enjoyed watching her neat movements as she presided over the tea tray, finding it oddly soothing.

He stirred his tea and smiled at his hostess. “Lord Kinsey will need to view these. When might he be expected home?”

“My husband has been visiting Alexandria. We hope to see him toward the end of next week. I shall advise his secretary to notify you when he has arrived.”

“Thank you.” Having finished his tea, Jason rose to take his leave.

“It was so good of you to call.” Lady Diana curtseyed prettily and favored him with another dimpled smile while her sister nodded in polite if less effusive agreement.

Jason bowed and left the room, amused. Lady Diana would do well in her first Season.

Lord Tobias followed him down the passage to the front door, picking up his conversation where he’d left off, listing famous gardens of note.

“Mr. John Nash is a proponent of the picturesque in architecture. Have you met him, Lord Tobias?”

The lad tapped his chin, giving the unlikely event due consideration. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

“And should you like to?” Jason felt confident that Nash, who he knew quite well, would welcome a youngster’s interest in his work.

“Oh, yes. I most certainly would, sir…” His eagerness faded, and an expression of dismay crossed his face. “Father would be unlikely to permit it. I am told that I must concentrate on my studies. Especially Latin and Greek, although I doubt they’ll be of much help to me once my schooling is behind me.”

With a nod, Jason took his hat, cane, and gloves from the butler. “They proved most advantageous for your father, did they not? And your grand tour will be greatly enriched by that knowledge.”

Jason kept his tongue firmly in his cheek. His grand tour had been spent with a group of young men who named their aged tutor Dozy because he would fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and once free of restraint, their tour had become more of a bacchanalian. He doubted the so-called cultural experience had taught him much at all, except perhaps how to drink until dawn and better pleasure a woman. His years in the army had taught him far more about life while bivouacking in camps on the march, reconnoitering behind enemy lines, or riding into battle with the acceptance that he might not see another day.

“I don’t intend to follow in my father’s footsteps.” Lord Tobias leaned against the wall beside a marble statue of a partially dressed Roman goddess. “I have no wish to become a scholar,” he said earnestly, seemingly unaffected by the marble breast at his elbow. “And as I won’t have an estate to occupy my time, as Hector, my older brother—we call him Harry— is to inherit, life would be fearfully dull. That’s why I intend to design houses and gardens. So you see, sir,” Lord Tobias implored, “A meeting with Mr. Nash may be just the ticket.”

“Perhaps, but you will need to work hard at mathematics,” Jason said as the butler, with a wearisome glance at Tobias, opened the front door.

“Well, yes, I imagine so,” Lord Tobias said, crestfallen. He brightened. “But you will try to arrange that meeting with Mr. Nash? I should be most grateful.”

“I will do my best. But only if your parents agree.”

Jason settled his hat on his head and walked out into the fragile spring sunshine. He’d had little success at two other mansions along the Walk, discounting them outright. Nor had anyone or anything alerted him to a possible plot being brewed within the Kinsey’s walls, although he’d hardly expected the informant to approach him while he was taking tea. It was a masterstroke of Parnell’s, getting Jason to do Nash’s job of advising the households of the changes to the district. But none of this sat well with him. He was used to facing logistical problems in the army, where he could formulate a clear plan. Here, it seemed he wandered through a particularly perplexing maze.

The Kinseys had proved to be every bit as appealing as he’d expected. He found it surprising that Lady Helen of the distrustful gray eyes had not yet married. Surely many would have been tempted by a comely lady with a good dowry. Despite her attempts to hide her attractiveness beneath a high-necked gown adorned with a simple cameo broach and behaving like a maiden aunt at surely no more than twenty-two or three. The dress failed to disguise a youthful and alluring figure, and there was no way she could hide her fine eyes and that rosebud mouth. There was a story here. As he walked back home, he allowed his mind to dwell on that more appealing mystery.