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“You would think not. However, my sister is not convinced and says she won’t rest easy until Sir Frederick has made it to the altar without embroiling Emma in scandal.

My observation is that, since Sir Frederick’s return from the Continent, he remains interested only in bold, golden-haired young ladies with beauty and wit—of which my dear niece has neither, though she has many other redeeming qualities.

However, this has not reassured my sister at all. ”

Eugenia gazed at Thornton’s handsome profile while her mind sought desperately for a response.

It was difficult to concentrate as she breathed in a waft of his bay rum cologne mingling with the sweet perfume of hothouse flowers arranged in tall Grecian urns around the ballroom.

Thornton had voiced a problem. Well, a problem for his sister which manifested as irritation for himself.

Perhaps this was Eugenia’s opportunity. Perhaps she could be the person who could solve Thornton’s sister’s concern so that she would stop vexing him, which would in turn earn Eugenia the gratitude of both… and maybe the admiration of Thornton.

These thoughts were landing so quickly with no means of outlet so that, when a tall, dark-haired young lady, soberly attired in Pomona green crossed her path, she seized her opportunity—mostly because Lady Pendleton had opened her mouth to speak.

“I maintain my belief that couples with disparate dispositions complement one another and I will prove it,” Eugenia interrupted, indicating the young lady who had stopped a little distance from them to send a dispassionate look about the ballroom before she seated herself in a window embrasure half retreating behind the thick, brocade curtain.

Emboldened by Thornton’s look of interest as much as by Lady Pendleton’s clear disparagement, Eugenia went on, almost desperately, “If Sir Frederick has such a flamboyant, bold disposition, he needs a quiet, serious, even dull helpmate to temper his restless impulses. I propose Miss Amelia Fairchild as his ideal match.”

Lord Thornton’s eyebrows rose. “Surely you jest, Eugenia?”

Eugenia tried to keep her smile steady in contrast to the beating of her heart. “I do not.”

“You propose that these polar opposites can be united by your devious machinations?” Thornton’s voice took on a gravelly note as he leaned towards her, a collaborative look in his eye. “Are you suggesting a wager?”

Eugenia was proposing no such thing. But even if the glint in Lord Thornton’s eye was due to an excess of Madeira, he was nevertheless singling Eugenia out for his especial attention.

And what’s more, suggesting something that, though she’d consider it outrageous under normal circumstances, had attracted his positive attention.

Why, now she thought about it, agreeing to turn it into a wager would surely facilitate further contact with the handsome viscount.

So, ignoring Lady Pendleton’s scandalized look, she said, boldly, “Indeed, I am.”

Even Lord Thorton looked taken aback as if he’d never imagined Eugenia would take his remark seriously.

So, in case he withdrew, Eugenia thought quickly.

She’d just accepted Lord Thornton’s wager.

What was required in a wager? Money? She had no need of money.

Neither did he. No, she needed to wager something much more creative.

Something Lord Thornton would find intriguing; something he might want.

But what did he want?

Then she remembered. After all, thirty years was not so long ago.

She’d felt like a girl only yesterday. His visit to her father’s house when she’d just reached marriageable age was imprinted on her mind.

But he, five years older, had barely noticed her.

No, he’d had eyes only for the painting of Persephone that graced the wall of her father’s library.

That painting now hung in her own drawing room.

However, she’d not forgotten how he’d admired it as he’d spoken to her father of his love of art, particularly Greek mythology.

“A wager, Lord Thornton? Why, I’ll wager my Persephone if I am unsuccessful in uniting reclusive Miss Amelia Fairchild and swaggering Sir Frederick.

I recall you once admired it. What will you wager?

” Now she was being bold. The flare of surprise in his eye was gratifying and for the first time in as many years as she could remember, Eugenia felt a frisson of excitement and, yes, need , thrum through her body.

She’d already accepted that she’d lose the beloved painting for undoubtedly Sir Frederick was as unlikely a contender for Miss Fairchild’s affections as the rake was for that bluestocking’s.

But what was the loss of her Persephone compared to the loss of Eugenia’s heart to Thornton thirty years before? And if she could attach certain provisos to this wager, then this could be her most enjoyable season in thirty years.

That’s if he even remembered what he’d wagered, she thought, her enthusiasm tempered as reality hit.

Lord Thornton was, if not in his cups, then mildly inebriated.

And he was an inveterate flirt—if that term could be applied to a man.

The ladies loved him. He’d forget Eugenia and the wager the moment he agreed to the terms. Such a wager was nothing to him, just as Eugenia was nothing to him.

“Good lord, you inherited the Persephone? But of course. You were your father’s only child.

I never forgot that painting.” The enthusiasm in his voice was palpable.

“Why, I nearly offered for you just to get my hands on it.” His eyes twinkled before he went on.

“Why would you wager such an exquisite painting when you know you are bound to lose?”

Eugenia followed the look he directed towards Sir Frederick who was in a corner of the ballroom looking thunderous as he confronted the petite blonde damsel he’d just shepherded through the throng and who was bowing her head as he spoke to her.

Ah yes, now she recalled who she was. Not a marital contender, but Sir Frederick’s little sister, Caroline, freshly launched this season.

“Why would I wager the Persephone?” Stuck for an answer, Eugenia considered statuesque, raven-haired Miss Fairchild still seated quietly in a corner.

The daughter of an old friend of hers whom she’d not seen in many years, Miss Fairchild had made her debut six years ago and had become betrothed in her first season just before her intended had gone to France to fight.

But the young man had died at Waterloo. Since then, Miss Fairchild had cut a figure of ladylike restraint and reserve, in contrast to her irrepressible brother, Edward.

“Why would I wager my Persephone?” repeated Eugenia. “Why, because I do not believe I will fail. It may not appear likely that Miss Fairchild and Sir Frederick would willingly make a match, but I intend to surprise you.”

“So, as I intend to wrest from you the Persephone, there needs only for you agree to my terms—”

“Eugenia, think of your reputation! You cannot make wagers in public like this!” Lady Pendleton interjected, breaking her silence. “My dear, I have never had to speak like this to you in thirty years, but now I feel I have no choice. You do not know what you’re saying!”

Eugenia considered her a moment. She’d always listened to Lady Pendleton. Taken her cue from her. Lady Pendleton had status that Eugenia would never have as a spinster, no matter that she’d inherited a fortune.

But suddenly Lady Pendleton looked like what she probably always had been: a killjoy. Or someone who couldn’t bear to see Eugenia enjoy the attention of a man as handsome as Lord Thornton.

So, ignoring her friend, Eugenia asked, “You were about to propose the terms of your wager, Lord Thornton?”

His eyebrows rose a little before he smiled.

“I have heard of Sir Frederick’s proclivities.

The gentleman is recently returned from the Continent where he was embroiled in quite a scandal with the Portuguese Consul’s wife.

Now I see that he is most discomposed by that little blonde chit who will no doubt be scolded by one of your arbiters of respectability for following him about like a little lamb.

He will not wed Miss Amelia this year or any other, and I look forward to claiming my Persephone.

In fact, so confident am I that I will soon be its proud owner that I boldly invite you to suggest the terms.”

Eugenia was rendered speechless. He was asking what she wanted from him. How could she answer that without giving herself away?

“Come, Eugenia, there must be something that I am able to offer to match your beautiful painting. A ruby necklace? A diamond bracelet? I can afford both but I’m confident I will not have to deliver. What is your desire?”

Eugenia already had a ruby necklace and a diamond bracelet. Funds had never been in short supply.

But excitement had.

And suddenly, as Eugenia gazed about the ballroom illuminated by thousands of beeswax candles, and a dance floor filled with lovely young ladies in pale, diaphanous gowns with bright shining faces, dancing with handsome young men, she wanted to remember what it felt like to have a heart full of hope.

And if not hope, just a few moments of thrilling ecstasy to remember for the rest of her life.

“What is my heart’s desire, Thornton?” she repeated as her mind spun with possibilities.

Then she smiled. “If I succeed in uniting Sir Frederick with Miss Fairchild, and their marriage is agreed upon by the end of the season, why, I would like you to organize a hot-air balloon ride and to accompany me in it over the capital. You are a viscount and used to looking down on a good portion of society. But I am a spinster who spends much of her life in the country or, when in the capital, as the overlooked chaperone, relegated to a corner keeping watch over her charges. For once, I, too, would like to look down on all of society.” She felt her mouth stretch as she added, “And I should very much enjoy your company as I crow over my success in doing what you believe I can not.”

Now it was Lady Pendleton’s turn to enter into the fun, though Eugenia suspected her motives were not to secure Eugenia’s success when she said, “Why, I have just had the most marvelously diverting idea! I shall host a gathering at Pendleton Castle and invite Sir Frederick and Miss Fairchild and all the debutantes I can think of so that at the end of a week, we shall determine, in good faith, the winner of this wager.”

She smiled at Eugenia, an undertone of malice present as she said, “Let us see how wise you were in making such a thrilling, outrageous proposal, my dear.”

Eugenia inclined her head, taking a sip of her orgeat while reflecting that she’d never noticed how much Lady Pendleton’s eye teeth resembled those of a young wolf.