Certainly there seemed no likelihood of any romance blossoming between her friend and any member of the house party. And Celia would be returning home in little more than a week's time to a life of dull loneliness.

"I would love to see your children," Rachel said suddenly, jumping to her feet and smiling brightly at Lady Cardwell. "May I?"

"Of course," Lady Cardwell said. "I would come with you, Rachel, but Algernon has promised to show me the rose garden and the hothouses. And after playing with the boys for most of the morning, I rather suspect that the flowers will be more peaceful companions."

"Are they in the nursery, Algie?" Rachel asked. "May I go up?"

"Yes, by all means, Rache," Algernon said, his expression rather blank for the moment. He had been deep in a conversation with Lord Edgeley when she spoke. "David is already up there," he added as the door was closing behind Rachel.


***

Lady Cardwell rose to her feet. "Do you have time to show me the flowers now, Algernon?" she asked. "Rufus has told me that your hothouses are quite famous. I have always wished to visit, but I am afraid I have been rather busy since our marriage, producing sons."

"Certainly, Madeline," Algernon said. "Perhaps the other ladies would care to join us. Lady Edgeley? Miss Barnes?"

Lady Edgeley declined the invitation on the grounds that the wind was chill and she feared she had caught cold during a walk the day before. Celia rose to her feet.

Lady Cardwell chose to walk without support when they left the house. Celia accepted Algernon's arm and listened quietly to his explanations as they walked through the hothouses examining all the exotic plants that grew there. Lord Rivers was very knowledgeable about them, she found, although it was his parents who had had the glass structure erected and who had collected the plants.

"The rose garden was my mother's real life work, though," Algernon explained as he shut the door of the last hothouse behind them. "It has several different varieties. If you wish to spend another half-hour outdoors, Madeline, I shall name each individual rose to you."

Lady Cardwell laughed. "Perhaps tomorrow, Algernon," she said. "I did not bring a shawl with me, and I must confess to having goose bumps on my arms after being inside the hothouses all this time. Besides, I do not believe my mind can cope with any more new information at present. Let us go inside."

"I'll wager Miss Barnes is made of sterner stuff," Algernon said. "Would you care to take a turn in the rose garden with me, ma'am, if I promise not to bore you with the names of a few dozen rose plants?"

"I should be delighted, my lord," Celia said, matching his light tone, "even if I must be subjected to a horticultural lecture."

They turned to walk beneath the trellised arch that formed the entryway into the rose garden while Lady Cardwell laughed and continued on her way to the house.

"I always feel almost apologetic about having such a very feminine part to my garden when this is really just a bachelor establishment," Algernon said. "But I like it anyway. It reminds me of my mother."

"Only a weak man has to shy away from any interest that might suggest femininity," Celia said. "You are not a weak man, my lord. What was your mother like?"

"A little like you in a way," Algernon said. "Oh, not in looks. My mother was small and quite dark. But she was quiet and self-possessed, like you. One always felt that one could rely on her entirely to soothe away troubles and help one cope with problems."

"And do you see me irt that way?" Celia asked.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "Am I right? I cannot imagine you in a panic. And I cannot imagine you with hartshorn and vinaigrette and laudanum drops and all the other paraphernalia without which many ladies would not be able to live through a single day. Have you ever had a fit of the vapors, Miss Barnes?"

"No, I am afraid I have not," she admitted somewhat ruefully. "I am afraid I am a rather dull person, my lord."

"Dull?" he said, coming to a stop on the path and looking full at her. "You, Miss Barnes? Absolutely not, I assure you. You are quiet, yes, and dignified. I suppose those qualities do not make a young lady shine in a London ballroom, but they are invaluable assets to a man's family in their country home. Any man would be fortunate indeed to have such a wife as you."

"Oh!" Celia's lips formed the word, though no sound came from her as she stared back at Algernon.

He seemed to realize what he had said only when the words were out of his mouth. He flushed slightly. "You see?" he said with an awkward smile. "I am your sincere admirer, ma'am. Come and see this peach-colored rose. You see how I am using layman's words so that you will not be weighed down with Latin names?"

"And this layman will be forever grateful," Celia said. "I shall remember, you see, that I have seen a magnificent peach-colored rose in your garden, whereas I should be racking my brains in vain to recall the five-syllable Latin name for it. What a very beautiful color it is."

"Here," Algernon said impulsively. He leaned forward and wrestled briefly with the stem of a bud before breaking it off and turning back to Celia. "It will complement your cream-colored dress. In your hair, I think. May I?"

Celia stood very still as he threaded the stem through the hair above her left ear. She had not worn her bonnet into the garden. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

"There, very becoming," he said, looking down into her face and grinning. Then his expression became more gentle. "Do you really think of yourself as dull?" he. asked "Why?"

Celia resisted the urge to take a step back, away from the powerful magnetism of his closeness. "I do not suffer from self-pity," she said. "I have quite calmly accepted the fact that I have none of the qualities that attract most people. I am not beautiful or particularly accomplished and I have no wealth or important connections. And I find it difficult to communicate with more than one person at a time. Even then, I have no bright and interesting conversation. But this is an embarrassing confession, my lord. I am not looking for your pity. Or for your reassurances either. I have accepted what I am and I am happy with my life."

"Are you?" he asked. He still had not moved away from her. "Do you not want what most other ladies want, Celia? Do you not want a husband and a family? A home of your own?"

Celia swallowed. "Of course I do," she said. "But I have only just had my twenty-first birthday, my lord. I do not consider myself too firmly established on the shelf yet."

He nodded. "Pardon me," he said. "I gather that young ladies do not like to talk about such matters. I would like to see you happy. It says a great deal for the male mentality, does it not, that the featherbrained chits that litter fashionable drawing rooms are snatched up during their first Season? Probably to the lifelong regret of those who do the snatching."

Celia's smile was somewhat stiff. "I would imagine a man would regret snatching up an antidote too," she said. "At least the featherbrains are pleasant to look at for a time."

Algernon laughed and then sobered. "Now, you have never been seeing yourself as an antidote, have you?" he asked, frowning down at her. "That is utter nonsense, as I told you once before. I cannot allow that, you know, Celia. Why, an antidote would look quite grotesque with a peach rose in her hair, while you look lovely."

Celia laughed and looked down. But his hand beneath her chin forced her face up again. "If I were not a gentleman," Algernon said, "I would show you how much of an antidote you are, indeed. In fact..." He lowered his head and kissed her firmly and lingeringly on the lips. "There. You see? You are very kissable. Didn't feel like an antidote at all. Not that I would know what an antidote would feel like. I've never kissed one. But she wouldn't feel like that. Good Lord, have I offended you?"

Celia had paled considerably. She pushed at his hand now, turned abruptly from him, and began to move away. Algernon caught at her arm. "My apologies, ma'am," he said. "I have insulted you. Can't think what came over me. I am not in the habit of kissing females in that way. Good Lord, I have never… I truly did not mean to insult you. Please forgive me. I just seem to forget when I am with you that you are an acquaintance merely. I… Please allow me to escort you back to the house."

Celia looked back at him, biting her lip. "I am sorry," she said. "It was nothing. I was embarrassed, that is all. No one has ever kissed me before even as a jest. Yes, please, I would like to return to the house. The breeze is quite chilly."

She took his offered arm and they walked in an awkward silence back to the house. Algernon stopped before they went inside. "Can that episode be forgotten?" he asked. "I like and respect you, Miss Barnes, and value your friendship. Will you say you forgive me?"

Celia smiled up at him and placed her own hand in his outstretched one. "There is nothing to forgive," she said. "Thank you for the things you said. And thank you for the rose. Yes, my lord, I would like to think of you as my friend."

They shook hands and smiled at each other before walking up the marble steps to the door.


***

An hour earlier Rachel had run lightly up the stairs and along to the nursery. She wanted to see these children, aged three and one. She grinned at herself as she knocked softly on the door and opened it. She would far prefer to spend the next hour playing with David's nephews than to look at flowers with Lady Cardwell and Algie or converse in the drawing room with the viscount.

She looked around her with a smile, preparing to introduce herself to the children's nurse. She found herself smiling instead at David Gower. He was standing at the opposite side of the room by one of the long windows. He held a baby in his arms. An older child stood on the window seat before him looking out through the window.

"Oh," Rachel said foolishly, "I am sorry. I did not know you were here."

"Hello, Rachel," David said. His eyes were smiling at her in that way that made her feel weak at the knees. "Do come inside. Did you come to meet my nephews? I am very proud of them, you know, and quite delighted to have someone to whom to show them off. It is more than six months since I saw them last. This little one, in particular, was a very small baby then."

"Where is their nurse?" Rachel asked.

He grinned. "I sent her to have tea with the housekeeper," he said. "Little Simon here was running her off her feet. Once one sets his legs to the floor, he believes that they should be in continuous motion. And he moves at a run, destroying everything in his path. I have enabled myself to have something of a rest by the simple expedient of picking him up. Right, cherub?" He pinched the stomach of the baby, who chuckled with delight.

"They are lovely," Rachel said. "The older one looks like your brother and you." She smiled at the little boy, who had turned from the window to stare at her. She held out a hand. "May I present myself? I am Lady Rachel Palmer. I do not know your name, sir."

The boy placed a small hand in hers. "Rufus Gower, ma'am," he said, bobbing his head in a swift bow.

"Ah," she said. "You share your papa's name. I am pleased to meet you, sir." She curtsied.

"When I sent the nurse away twenty minutes ago," David said, "it was with the promise that I would try to get these boys to bed. They usually sleep for an hour immediately after luncheon, but the upheaval of the journey for more than two days and the strange house at the end of it all has upset their routine. I had them almost persuaded when you arrived. Shall we try, boys? Lady Rachel is an expert storyteller. If you go to bed immediately and settle down quietly, perhaps she can be persuaded to tell you a story."

Rachel looked at him in alarm, to find that his eyes were twinkling. "Well, I know some of Aesop's fables," she said.

"Uncle David, carry me," Rufus begged, directing large blue eyes his uncle's way.

"Uncle David's arms are already full," Rachel said. "Will I do?"

"Here," David said, "you take Simon. But please do not set his feet anywhere close to the floor or we will spend another twenty minutes chasing him."

The baby's arms closed around her neck. His cheek as it brushed hers was hot, she felt. He was clearly tired and holding himself awake by sheer willpower.