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Sir Frederick’s lip curled as he crumpled the note in his fist. The paper’s cloying scent suddenly seemed sickly sweet, like decay masked by perfume. But the timing of this letter, combined with Dombey’s revelation about Amelia’s September deadline, made him pause.

What skullduggery was Catherine Perry planning?

*

He found Miss Fairchild speaking with her brother, Edward, in one of the large reception rooms. Sir Frederick had had few exchanges with the young man who was of a very different mold from his sister.

His nervous energy was palpable, and he had a mischievous smile that made him appear younger than the twenty-one years Frederick had learned was his age.

For a moment, Sir Frederick watched the pair of them before advancing.

“I tell you, sis, all is not lost,” the young man was saying. “Time is not quite on our side, but my motto is to never give up. If this plan doesn’t work—”

He broke off when he glanced up to see Sir Frederick standing by, mumbled something in embarrassment, and hurried off.

Feeling increasingly disconcerted, especially by the deep flush that rose to Miss Fairchild’s cheeks, Sir Frederick closed the distance to stand by her side.

“You look very lovely this evening,” he complimented her. And she really did. The deep blue of her gown matched her eyes, which had never looked so intense. In fact, there was an intensity to her whole manner that was as palpable as her brother’s embarrassment had been earlier.

“You’re very kind, Sir Frederick,” she responded, but he noticed that the easy manner she’d adopted towards him the past few days was absent.

Her brow was furrowed, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes as she added, “Lady Pendleton very kindly lent me something of her daughter’s.

She said we were of similar build and that she couldn’t bear to see me appear so outmodish. ”

There was a twist to her lips as she finished, this time slanting a look at him. “Unfortunately, that is what I am. Outmodish, bookish…” She shrugged. “Most gentlemen like a woman who has…more style than I do.”

Sir Frederick’s first instinct was to put his hand on her shoulder and say something bolstering. But there was something pricklish about her today. And her brother’s parting words returned to trouble him.

Mrs. Perry’s letter was malicious, but had she really discovered something that Sir Frederick didn’t know?

Carefully, he said, “But you’re beautiful. And you can dress as fashionably as you choose, surely, when you come into your inheritance?”

His words seemed to startle her, for she jerked her head back up to look at him, before a sad smile settled upon her lips.

“I have no inheritance to look forward to, Sir Frederick,” she said.

“I’ve battled with myself the past few days as to how truthful I should be with you.

” With a sigh, she went on, “But that is how it is, and it’s better you should know now. ”

For a moment, Sir Frederick wasn’t sure how to respond.

While the size of her inheritance was immaterial when it came to spending the rest of his life with a woman he thought would entertain and amuse him with her wit and her mind, he was certain she was putting a different slant on matters than when they’d first become acquainted.

“I hope you are not recalling an earlier conversation during which the size of a lady’s dowry was discussed, Miss Fairchild,” he said.

“You do know that I consider a lady’s mind more important.

The amount to which one is provisioned is nothing to be embarrassed about.

” He frowned, trying to broach the matter delicately.

“I recall you did mention that you looked forward to retiring quietly to the country when you came into your inheritance in a few weeks.”

What did she really want? What did he really want? And why was he suddenly so concerned as to her answer?

“I no longer have an inheritance to look forward to,” she said, squaring her shoulders and looking suddenly defiant while he tried to hide his shock.

Turning on her heel, she added over her shoulder, “I gambled it all away.”

*

Edward had never felt so troubled.

Being troubled was not a state of mind that generally afflicted him. Every problem could be easily solved, he had always thought, studying the patterns made by the setting sun on the polished parquet floor. And that had been the case every time.

Until now.

Leaving his sister’s side as he caught a glimpse of Sir Frederick, he was deeply conflicted. The buzz of conversation and tinkling of glasses from nearby guests only heightened his sense of unease.

No, not conflicted. There was nothing to be conflicted about because the matter required a simple outcome.

The trouble was that the outcome he’d imagined would be so simple to effect had proved a monumental conundrum.

None of the blonde vivacious debutantes whom he’d thought would be just what Sir Frederick would find irresistible had managed to win from him a second glance. The carefully arranged “accidental” meetings in the rose garden, the strategic placements at dinner—all had come to naught.

And Edward had been ever on his guard to gauge what Sir Frederick might find alluring, studying the gentleman’s reactions from behind potted palms and through the reflections in gilt-framed mirrors.

At first, Edward had been convinced that he was right on the money when Miss Playford had emerged as a likely contender during the treasure hunt.

But while there’d been lots of playful banter and giggling, there’d also been nothing more serious. In fact, Sir Frederick hadn’t even danced a single dance with Miss Playford, despite Edward’s careful maneuvering to place them together at every opportunity.

Not like he had with Mrs. Perry, whom Edward had quickly seen as an aspirant to his affections. The widow certainly knew how to command attention, her silvery laugh drawing eyes whenever she entered a room.

Except that the moment she was out of his orbit, Sir Frederick reverted to his usual self: impossible to read.

More often than not, he was with his sister, which Edward thought proved Amelia was pretty clever.

She obviously wanted to know exactly the kind of young lady Sir Frederick preferred, so she could push the right contender his way.

Except that nothing seemed to come of anything.

“Oh, Edward! Did I spill my drink on you? I’m so sorry?”

In the midst of his reverie, he turned to find Miss Playford smiling happily at him, her golden curls catching the candlelight. She really was a diamond of the first water, if Edward said so himself, and the fact that Sir Frederick didn’t think she was wife material was quite astonishing.

“Oh, Edward! I did, didn’t I? Otherwise you’d not look so downcast!” the young lady exclaimed, running her gaze the length and breadth of him which he found he really rather liked. Her genuine concern warmed something in his chest that he forced himself to ignore.

He had more important things to worry about.

His sister was depending upon him and Miss Playford had, from the beginning, been a potential solution. Though looking at her now, with her eyes sparkling with mischief and kindness, he felt an unexpected pang of guilt at seeing her merely as a means to an end.

“Do you think Sir Frederick dashing?” he asked abruptly.

She blinked in surprise, then answered with another of her happy smiles, “Oh, he’s quite the most dashing gentleman I think I’ve ever met.”

“And I’m sure he must think you the most charming and beautiful of all the debutantes here. Has he danced with you?”

Miss Playford blinked. “Really, Mr. Fairchild! What a question? He thinks I’m all those things, but he thinks I’m a child and should have stayed another year in the schoolroom. Yes, that’s what he said!”

“Oh, good heavens, he said that?” Edward asked, and he must have looked so downcast that Miss Playford looked quite concerned.

“I say, I can’t imagine why you are looking like that. What is it to you whether Sir Frederick admires me? I’m sure he admires a great many other young ladies in this room.”

“Any blonde ones?’ Edward asked quickly.

“Blonde ones? What an odd question. I daresay he admires plenty of blonde ones. And dark-haired young ladies, too.”

“But I only want to know if you’ve noticed him admiring any blonde ladies.”

“Well, there’s Mrs. Perry. Does she count?” Miss Playford tapped him playfully on the arm with her fan. “What is going on here, Edward? Why are you asking all these questions? You almost look as if your life depends upon it.”

“Well, not my life, but my sister’s future.” Edward sighed.

“Tell me more.”

“I can’t else everything will be exposed and the game will be up and my sister will have nothing and it’ll all be my fault.”

“Goodness! What will be your fault?”

“The fact that I made a wager about Sir Frederick walking down the aisle with a vivacious blonde before six weeks was up. And I bet my sister’s inheritance upon it, I was so sure he was already about to get leg-shackled.

There! I shouldn’t have told you. The game is up.

Truth is, I don’t know what to do. Poor Amelia doesn’t deserve this. And it’s all my fault.”

After a short silence, Edward realized Miss Playford was looking at him with great sympathy rather than the derision he’d expected. “Well, you obviously were only trying to help her.”

“Yes, but her inheritance should have been sacrosanct. I don’t know what I was thinking except that, yes, I wanted to double it for her. Now Sir Edward is going to eschew ladies—blonde or otherwise—beyond the next six weeks. Or at least, he’s not going to marry any of them.”

Edward was by now feeling so wretched, and was about to make his excuses when Miss Playford said, “What, exactly, was the wager? That he marry a vivacious blonde? Or that he just walk down the aisle with one within the next six weeks.” She giggled suddenly.

“Because if it’s the latter, I’m sure he’d walk down the aisle with me if I asked him nicely.

As long as he knew I wasn’t about to leg-shackle him. ”