There was the implication, of course, that Whitney had been so unpresentable before that Elizabeth couldn't believe the change, but watching her stroll away on Clayton's arm, Whitney didn't think Elizabeth had meant to be insulting.

Since Elizabeth was dancing with Clayton Westland, Whitney waited, hoping that Paul would ask her to dance again. Instead he frowned and said abruptly, "Is it the custom in Paris for a man and woman who have just been introduced to gaze into one another's eyes while they dance?"

Whitney looked at him in startled surprise. "I-I wasn't gazing into Mr. Westland's eyes. It was just that he seemed familiar to me, and yet, I don't know him at all. Hasn't that ever happened to you?"

"It happened to me tonight," Paul said curtly. "I thought you were someone I knew. Now I'm not certain I know you at all." He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Whitney staring after him. In the old days, Whitney would have run after him to reassure him that it was him she wanted, only nun, and not Clayton Westland. But these weren't the old days and she was much wiser, so she smiled to herself and turned in the opposite direction.

Even though Paul never approached her again, she was perfectly happy to dance the night away with the local swains. Given a choice between an overconfident Paul and an aloof, jealous one, Whitney definitely preferred the latter. Lady Eubank was right, Whitney decided. Competition was what Paul needed.

It was nearly noon when Whitney awoke the following day. She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, positively certain that Paul would come to call.

Paul didn't come, but several of her other neighbors did, and she spent the afternoon trying to be charming and gay while her spirits sank along with the setting sun.

When she went to bed that night she told herself that Paul would surely come tomorrow. But tomorrow came and went without a sign of him.

It was not until the day after, that Whitney saw nun, and then it was purely by chance. She and Emily were riding back from the village, their horses kicking up little puffs of dust as they walked along the road. "Did you know that Mr. West-tend was called away to London the day after your party?" Emily asked.

"My father said something about it," Whitney said, her mind on Paul "I think he is expected back tomorrow. Why?"

"Because Margaret's mama told mine that Margaret has been counting the hours until he returns. Apparently, Margaret's affections are absolutely fixed on him and-" Emily stopped talking and squinted down the road. "Unless I mistake my eyes," she said with a teasing glance at Whitney, "we are about to encounter your prey."

Leaning forward, Whitney made out an elegant phaeton tearing along at a spanking pace in their direction. There was scarcely time for her to smooth the skirt of her riding habit before Paul was upon them. He pulled up, greeted Whitney politely, and then devoted his complete attention to Emily, flattering her with teasing gallantries until she laughingly ordered him to desist because she was now a married woman.

Khan had taken an instant aversion to Paul's showy black horse, and Whitney listened to their conversation while trying to keep Khan under control. "Are you going to Lady Eubank's affair tomorrow?" she heard him ask. When there was a lengthening moment of silence, she looked up to find Paul's attention on her.

"Are you going to Lady Eubank's affair tomorrow?" he repeated.

Whitney nodded, her heart doubling its tempo.

"Fine. I'll see you there." Without another word, he flicked the reins, and the phaeton bowled off down the road. Emily turned, watching the vehicle until it vanished from view. "If that wasn't the most extraordinary encounter I have ever had in my Me, I can't imagine what was!" she said. A slow smile dawned across her features as she looked at Whitney. "Paul Sevarin just went to great pains to completely ignore you. Whitney!" she said excitedly, "doesn't that strike you as rather odd?"

"Not at all," Whitney said with a disheartened sigh. "If you remember, Paul always used to ignore me."

"Yes, I know." Emily said, laughing softly. "But back then, he wasn't watching you the entire time he did it. The whole time he was talking to me just now, he was watching you. And at your party the other night, he watched you constantly when you weren't looking."

Whitney jerked Khan to a halt. "Did he truly? Are you certain?"

"Of course I'm certain, silly, I was watching him, watching you."

"Oh, Emily," Whitney laughed shakily. "I wish you didn't have to go back to London next week. When you're gone, who will tell me the things I want to hear?"

Chapter Eleven

BY THE NIGHT OF LADY EUBANK'S PARTY, Whitney had worked herself into a knot of anticipation and foreboding. She was ready early, waiting for her aunt in the hall in a gown of midnight-blue chiffon spangled with glittering silver flecks. Diamonds and sapphires twinkled at her ears and throat, and winked from her elegant Grecian curb.

"Aunt Anne," she said in the carriage on the way to Lady Eubank's, "do you think Paul truly loves Elizabeth?"

"If he did, I believe he would have offered for her long ago," Anne replied, pulling on her gloves as their carriage turned into the long drive at Lady Eubank's great old mausoleum of a house. "And your friend Emily is absolutely correct-he watched you constantly the night of your party, when he thought no one was looking."

"Then why is he taking go long to do something about it?"

"Darling, only consider the awkward position he is in. Four years ago, everyone knew that he barely tolerated your devotion. Now he is faced with the problem of reversing himself completely and openly courting you." She smiled at Whitney's glum look. "If you want to speed things up, I think you ought to take Lady Eubank's advice and give him some competition."

Three hours later, Whitney was beginning to agree. She was popular and sought after by every eligible man present … except the one who mattered.

Across the room from Whitney, surrounded by several of the local girls, Clayton bent his head toward Margaret Merryton, smiling to conceal his impatience with her ceaseless chatter.

After spending the past few days in London on an emergency business matter, he'd returned just in time tonight to change and come to this little gathering of Amelia Eubank's. And that outrageous old harridan had greeted him in the entryway and announced that she would appreciate it if he would be especially attentive to Miss Stone tonight, and thus provide some romantic competition for Sevarin. As a result, Clayton was not in the best of moods.

Rudely turning her back on the woman who was talking to her, Amelia Eubank raised her monocle and scanned the knots of guests until her gaze fell upon the Duke of Claymore, who was surrounded by several of the local girls, all vying for his attention. Claymore, she noted, was treating them with amused tolerance, but his attention was on the only female in the room who seemed immune to his magnetism-Whitney Stone.

Amelia dropped her monocle, letting it dangle from its black ribbon over her ample bosom. Through a distant connection of her deceased husband, Amelia could claim a slight kinship with the duke, and when Claymore had arrived at her home several weeks ago, announcing his intention to take up residence five miles from her under the name Westland "in order to take a much needed rest," she had immediately assured him of her discretion.

Now, however, an intriguing idea occurred to her, and her eyes took on a speculative gleam as she watched the duke watching Miss Stone. She paused a moment to contemplate how utterly unethical and devious her scheme was, and then, with a pleased little smile, she leaned back and instructed a footman to bring Miss Stone to her immediately, and then to ask Mr. Westland to join them.

Whitney was dancing with Emily's husband when a footman appeared at her elbow and said that Lady Eubank wished to see her at once. Excusing herself to Lord Archibald, Whitney obeyed Lady Eubank's imperative summons with feelings of distinct apprehension, an apprehension which immediately turned to alarm when the dowager hoisted herself out of her chair and said irritably, "I told you competition is what Sevarin needs, and your best friend's husband is not competition. I want you to make up to Mr. Westland. Bat your eyes at him, or whatever it is you young gels do to attract a man."

"No, I can't. Really, Lady Eubank, I'd rather-"

"Young woman," she interrupted, "I will have you know that I'm giving this party for the sole purpose of helping you secure Sevarin. Since you seem so foolish about how to go about it, you've left me no choice but to step in. Clayton Westland is the only man here whom Sevarin will consider a rival, and I've sent a footman for him." Whitney blanched, and Lady Eubank glowered at her. "Now, when Mr. West-land comes, you can either look at him the way you're looking at me-in which case, he will probably offer to take you to a physician-or you can smile at him, so that he will offer to take you out on the balcony instead."

"I don't want to go out on the balcony!" Whitney hissed desperately.

"You will," her ladyship predicted, "when you turn around and observe how charmingly Elizabeth Ashton is strolling in that direction on Sevarin's arm."

Whitney turned and saw that Paul and Elizabeth were indeed strolling toward the balcony doors. Discouraged, Whitney recognized the sense in what Lady Eubank was trying to force her to do, but she was reluctant to stoop to outright scheming. Not that her hesitancy mattered, because Lady Eubank had neatly taken the choice out of her hands and was already saying to a faintly smiling Clayton, "Miss Stone was just mentioning that she is excessively overheated from all her dancing, and that she would enjoy a stroll on the balcony."