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Lydia frowned, her gaze drawn to something behind the squirrel in the near distance. A familiar face walking along the pathways of the park, arm-in-arm with an older gentleman.

“Am I seeing things, or is that my mother-in-law?” she asked, dumbfounded.

Nancy stared in the same direction. “My goodness, it is! I thought she was supposed to be at Stonebridge.”

“She isnotsupposed to be at Stonebridge. She is supposed to be at the Dower House, a few miles from Stonebridge.” Lydia gulped. “She is certainly not supposed to be in London.”

With a wicked grin, Nora tilted her head toward the older couple. “Who is the gentleman? Your new father-in-law? They seem rather… intimate, do they not?”

“Nora, please,” Lydia groaned. “I have heard enough about Mary’s intimate tales to last me a lifetime. Of course, I would never deny a widow or an older lady their enjoyments, but Irather thought open courtships were for the younger contingent of society.”

Nancy chuckled. “Aunt Eliza will be furious. If I am not mistaken, that is the very Sir Matthew that they were fighting over at your wedding festivities, dear Lydia.” She hid her face behind her fan as she added, “My aunt loathes competition. I suppose that is because the breadth of choice is much smaller. Although, it has never stopped my aunt from trying to flirt with men half her age.”

“We must hide,” Lydia whispered, for though she liked Mary well enough, she did not want to face her mother-in-law after last night. There would be questions, and she was in no mood to answer them.

Nora gestured around. “There is nowheretohide. Not near here, anyway.”

Even if there had been, it was too late. The Dowager Duchess of Stonebridge had seen them.

“Darlings!” she cried, abandoning the gentleman.

She ran in a rather unseemly fashion, hitching up her skirts in her hurry. But Sir Matthew, who perhaps did look handsome for his age, just smiled at the youthful display. A moment later, he walked in the same direction to catch up to his wayward companion.

“How was the opera?” Mary asked immediately.

Lydia shrugged. “It was very loud.”

“No, sweetling, how was theopera?” Mary clasped her hands together as if praying. And her eyes were somewhat desperate.

“It was… pleasant.”

Disappointment furrowed Mary’s brow. “Are you staying in London with him, at least?”

“I have not decided yet. I am still hopeful that I can convince him to return to Stonebridge, but we shall see.” Lydia paused. “You must know, as well as I do, how stubborn he can be.”

Mary chuckled at that, but it was a sad sort of sound. “I do. Very well.” She waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. You will have plenty of opportunities to dazzle him again. What did Society think of you?”

“I did not dare to read the scandal sheets,” Lydia replied, “but I was… well received. Several invitations arrived this morning, and I plan to respond to them when I return to the townhouse.”

Mary nodded. “Excellent news. Yes, that is truly excellent. The more you haveothergentlemen talking about you, the more obsessed your husband should become.”

Sir Matthew slowed to Mary’s side. “What is all this talk of obsession?”

“It is nothing, Matthew.” Mary beamed at him. “Just some light pleasantries with my darling daughter-in-law.”

The older gentleman bowed his head. “Your Grace, congratulations on your marriage. It was an exemplary celebration—I have not enjoyed such a night in many years. Please, do send His Grace my regards.”

“Of course.” Lydia curtseyed politely.

Bending his head, Sir Matthew whispered something in Mary’s ear. A rude thing to do in company, Lydia thought, but as a shining smile broke across the Dowager’s face, she was reminded of the previous night—how a whisper had madeherheart race—and fighting a smile had been nigh-on impossible.

“If you will excuse us, sweet Lydia,” Mary said, hesitating. “Shall we have tea while you are in London?”

Lydia smiled. “I should like that.”

“Very well.” The older woman looked pleased. “I shall write to you in due course. My son does not read your letters, does he?”

“I should hope not.”