She didn’t believe in love at first sight. Lust, perhaps. But pheromones and hormones were not love. And lust could be controlled.

Unfortunately, a campaign of indifference was far less satisfying when it wasn’t even noticed by the target of her premeditated lack of interest. Shermont seemed to be ignoring her.

“Are you going to sit in the carriage all day?” Mina asked.

Eleanor started out of her reverie and realized everyone else was gone, already broken into small groups according to activity. The chaperones sat around a table sipping lemonade. Uncle Huxley, far enough away not to be included in their conversation, read the newspaper. Fiona and Hazel had climbed the stones of the ruins to the lookout point and postured in what they thought were provocative poses. Teddy and the military men had gathered off to one side. From their gestures and the occasional word carried on the breeze, she could tell they were discussing the war. Shermont was over by the horses, chatting with the groom and pointing to his stallion’s hoof.

“Come on. Out, out,” Deirdre insisted, motioning for Eleanor to get down. “Stretch your legs before we eat.”

Mina spread her arms. “Welcome to our picnic area. Teddy wanted to build a folly over there, but we insisted he keep it natural. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yes, indeed.” The top of the hill had been sliced off, leaving a broad, smooth, grassy field ringed by woods. A few trees had invaded two or three strides into the clear area as if on purpose to provide shade.

“We’re going to pick wildflowers for the tables. Would you like to come with us?”

“No … ah … thank you, no.”

“Are you ill?” Deirdre asked. “You are a bit pale.”

“I’m fine. You go ahead.” The sight of Huxley reading the paper had reminded her of an earlier idea to check for news items that might entice Shermont to return to London. “I’m going to have some lemonade.”

“Are you sure?” Mina eyed the table full of chaperones with a grimace.

“Go on. Pick lots of flowers.”

“If you’re determined to go over there, be warned. Don’t let them draw you into a game of whist, not even for pennies. You might win the first hand or two, but before you know it, you’ll owe them three months pin money.”

“Mina! You didn’t!” Deirdre said. “No wonder you didn’t buy those beautiful pink ribbons we saw last week.”

“I promise I won’t play cards with them,” Eleanor said. Especially since I have no idea how to play whist. She excused herself and left Deirdre scolding Mina, while the younger girl defended her right to spend her allowance as she chose.

As Eleanor passed the group of men, Major Alanbrooke caught her eye. He raised an eyebrow as if questioning whether she wanted to join the conversation. She shook her head and continued walking toward the tables.

“Ah, here’s our fourth,” Patience called as Eleanor approached. “Won’t you join us for a few hands of whist?”

“Thank you, but no. I don’t know how to play.”

“Then now’s the time to learn. We would be glad to teach you how to play,” Patience said with a smile intended to be sweet, but it failed to hide the avaricious gleam in her eyes.

Mrs. Maxwell stifled a giggle with her hand, and Mrs. Holcum took a quick sip of lemonade.

Eleanor declined the invitation and approached Huxley. “May I join you?”

He jumped up and reached to tip his hat, which wasn’t on his head. He looked around as if wondering where it could have gotten to and then chuckled. “The boy has not returned with my hat.”

With his bald head, green coat, plaid vest, and well-worn brown leather breeches, he reminded her of an overgrown leprechaun. She liked his unpretentious air.

“Please, have a seat,” he said. “I’m honored.” He folded the paper and took his seat next to her. “May I take this opportunity to thank you for the good luck charm?”

“I’m sure your horse didn’t need it. I heard you won by several lengths.”

Huxley laughed. “Indeed I did. Still, I should have sought you out earlier to thank you.” He looked at his clasped hands. “I regret we weren’t closer before you moved so far away, but you always preferred the company of your younger cousins.”

His statement seemed to question why she was there. “I saw you reading the paper and wondered what interesting events were happening in London. I’ve been away so long I feel like a stranger in a foreign land.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Just the typical news. A new statue was dedicated in Hyde Park. As if we need another statue there. The usual war news from Spain and Portugal. Some good. Some not so good.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “Oh, a clerk high up in the Ministry has been arrested as a French agent. Tut, tut. What is the world coming to?” He turned the paper over. “Ah, this should interest you. The Zoological Society has acquired a new animal—an American buffalo.”

“Oh.” Eleanor tried to hide her disappointment. She doubted those items would entice Shermont back to London. She would need another plan.

“I have been planning a trip to America myself. It’s one of the places I must see before I die. I am a lepidopterist, you know,” Huxley added in a conspiratorial tone.

Eleanor had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded suspiciously like a contagious disease. She scooted her chair further away. She put her left elbow on the arm of the chair and slanted her body in that direction. She rested her cheek against her fingers, trying to assume a casual pose. “Really?”

He leaned closer. She retreated until she was afraid she would tip the chair on its side and land sprawled in the grass.

“I have over five hundred specimens.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh?” she squeaked.

“Yessiree. I’ve been a butterfly collector since I was just a boy,” he said with a grin. “Insects and moths, too, but butterflies are my favorite.”

Eleanor realized he’d been teasing her. She sat up straight and slapped at his arm. “You’re a wicked old man. Making fun of my ignorance like that.”

“And enjoying every minute. One of the few advantages of getting old is that one is allowed, nay, expected to be eccentric.”

Eleanor shook her head but smiled.

“I’m serious about the trip to America. It’s to be the first leg of my world collection tour. Been planning it ever since I acquired an emerald swallowtail, Papillio palinurus. Not personally acquired, mind you. I bought it from a man who had been to Borneo. Fabulous specimen. Green and blue with a unique wing shape. Did you know there are more than ten thousand species of butterfly, and new ones are found every day?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“I can’t wait to collect my own specimens.” He leaned back in his chair and stared into the distance. “To witness the migration of the monarchs, Danaus plexippus, with my own eyes. I’ve heard so many butterflies head south to winter in Mexico that they block the sun. And to see a sixteen-centimeter tiger swallowtail, Papillio glaucus.” He held up his hands six inches apart.

“Wow. That’s one big butterfly.”

“The Attacus atlas from India has been observed up to thirty centimeters.” He widened the space between his hands to twelve inches. “Actually a moth and therefore active at night rather than during the day like a butterfly, it is beautifully shaped and multi-colored.”

Eleanor was glad she would never see one of those moths hanging around the porch light on the balcony of her apartment.

“I’m looking forward to observing the brilliant Priamis caelestis in its natural habitat in New Guinea. And Morpho peleides in the West Indies. Can you tell I’m partial to blue ones?”

“Who isn’t?” she said as if she knew a Priamis whatever from a Morpho whatsis. “Maybe you’ll discover a new species.”

“Wouldn’t that be the achievement of a lifetime, eh?” He sighed. “One can only wish for such luck.”

“When do you leave?”

“Hopefully soon. I have my own ship, you know. The Swallowtail. Outfitted with the latest in everything I might need. It will only take a few weeks to provision her, and then I’m off. I intend to travel the world until I die, and then I’ve made arrangements to have a glorious Viking funeral at sea. I’m just waiting for my nieces to marry. Got to keep an eye on them, you know, but I’m not getting any younger.”

“Isn’t Teddy their guardian?”

“Ah, there’s the rub.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. You should never pay attention to an eccentric old man’s rambling.” Huxley picked up the paper from his knee and stood. He cocked his head to one side and gave her a strange look.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s just that you’ve changed since you were a child. You used to be such a … a morose little girl. Always predicting dire consequences if Deirdre ate too much custard or Mina climbed on the terrace railing.”

Eleanor didn’t know what to say.

“Of course, you were usually right. That time Deirdre did get sick, and Mina did break her arm. But you’re much more pleasant company now.”

“People grow up. Change is inevitable.”

He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Of course, you’re right. I’m going to fetch a glass of lemonade. May I bring you one?”

She declined. After he left, she looked around. The lieutenants had succumbed to Fiona and Hazel’s lures and joined them on the ruins. Deirdre and Mina were nowhere in sight. Eleanor jumped up and went to search for them. She quietly asked Patience, but she answered without even glancing up from her hand of cards that she’d last seen them picking flowers on the far side of the clearing. She assured Eleanor they were fine as long as they were together.

Eleanor pulled Teddy away from his conversation, but he didn’t know where they were either. He seemed unconcerned about their welfare. “How far can they get on foot? They’ll return momentarily,” he assured her before going back to his conversation with Rockingham.

Eleanor stood in the middle of the picnic area and turned slowly in a full circle. Shermont was also missing. Not that she was keeping track of him or anything, but suddenly she was worried. She’d assumed the seduction happened the night of the ball, but since the ghosts refused to give her details, it could have happened earlier. Had she already failed to protect them? Would the ghosts keep their end of the bargain if she didn’t prevent the seduction and the duel that would inevitably follow?

Refusing to acknowledge the stab of jealousy she felt, Eleanor set off, determined to find Deirdre and Mina. She made a circuit of the clearing, peering into the woods for a clue to which way they went. She cautioned herself not to run or appear frantic. If she alarmed the other guests and a full-scale search were mounted, someone might find one—or both—sisters with Shermont. The two were rarely separated. Eleanor worried that’s why neither would say who was actually seduced.

Something on the ground caught her eye.

* * *

“Shermont?”

Before responding he finished his business, buttoned his trousers, and rounded the screen the servants had set up near the tethered horses for the gentlemen to use as a privy. “Alanbrooke.”

“Forgive me for seeking you out, but this is the first chance I’ve had to speak to you in private,” he said as he fell in beside Shermont on the walk back to the picnic area.

“You have my ear.”

Alanbrooke removed his hat and scratched his head. “It’s all rather mysterious. Day before yesterday, a stranger approached me at my tailor’s of all places and told me to give you a message in private. Somehow he knew I’d accepted the invitation to be here, although in truth it’s nothing I concealed. The weird part is that he said you would also attend. Since you despise provincial parties, I dismissed his claim and counted him one of the loonies society tries to ignore, like the crazy men who accost you on the street and spout their ‘end of the world’ nonsense. But then I arrive, and here you are.”

“Is there a point to this story? If you’re asking my advice, find a new tailor. One who doesn’t let in riff-raff off the street.”

“Bear with me. The stranger—not my tailor—said his name was Scovell. He said I should not mention meeting him to anyone other than you and then only in private. Rather havey-cavey, don’t you think?”

Shermont kept his face impassive with effort. General George Scovell was the chief code breaker and intelligence gatherer for Wellington. He’d played an important role in the victories at Salamanca and Vittoria. Shermont had done a bit of cipher work himself and had consulted with Scovell on occasion. “What was the message?” he asked in a nonchalant tone.