Sir Henry, having been introduced to the ladies, scooped an indignant poodle pup out of the nearest chair and sat down. Sylvia took the little bundle from him and soothed it in her lap as she talked to her new acquaintance as if she had known him all her life.

The Earl of Raymore turned to Rosalind. "I compliment you on your appearance, Miss Dacey," he said unsmilingly, "but I see that you did not have your hair styled."

"You can perhaps force me to buy clothes, my lord," she answered coolly, "but my hair is part of my person. And I will allow no one, not even you, any control over that."

He turned away from her, showing no visible reaction. "Shall we go?" he said to the room at large. "The carriage is waiting."

"A trifle early, are we not, Edward?" asked Sir Henry. But he rose to his feet when his friend did not reply.

Raymore had good reason for leaving early. He wished to have Rosalind seated in her box before a large number of curious eyes could watch her arrival.

His plan succeeded. The boxes were almost empty when he seated his wards. Only a few young men had taken up their positions of vantage in the pit, where they could ogle all the ladies as they arrived.

"Oh, look, Ros," Sylvia exclaimed, grabbing her cousin by the wrist. "That man is entirely pink. Even his hair!"

She stared quite openly at a tall young man who stood languidly in the pit, surveying some new arrivals in the box opposite through a quizzing glass.

"That is one of our most prized exquisites, Lady Marsh," Sir Henry said, smiling and leaning forward. "Lord Fanhope. He turns a different color for each day of the week. He even wears a patch on his cheek. It is somewhat unfortunate that the color is pink tonight. The patch cannot be easily distinguished from this distance."

"If you keep staring at him, cousin," Raymore added, "he will be your friend for life."

"Well, I think he looks remarkably silly," Sylvia decided, and she turned her attention away from its unworthy object.

"Does your wife not enjoy the theater, Sir Henry?" Rosalind asked, having heard him refer earlier to a wife.

He smiled at her. "Elise would love to be here," he said, "but she is not going into company these days. She expects to be confined any day now."

Rosalind gave him her full attention. "Oh, how splendid!" she said, her face glowing. "Is it to be your first, sir?"

Sir Henry was unused to anyone talking about the expected event. Pregnancy was generally considered to be an ungenteel topic of conversation. Most people would politely choose not to notice when a lady was missing from society for a few months.

"I should be so delighted to meet Lady Martel if I may, at a time convenient to her, of course," Rosalind continued. The greatest regret she had about her physical condition had always been that, because she would not marry, she would also not bear children.

The Earl of Raymore, standing at the back of the box, was pleased. His cousin, of course, would take with no trouble at all. But even the other girl was glowing at the moment. She looked almost handsome with her bright dress, and her dark hair and eyes. For once she even had some color in her cheeks. He let his eyes stray casually around the other boxes and the pit, all of which were now full. The attention of several people was directed at his box. His plan was working well, it seemed.

The evening continued well. During the intermission, Sir Henry left to greet some friends in another box. And several of Raymore's acquaintances paid a call in his box with the obvious purpose of being introduced to the two young ladies. The earl, his manner cool and detached, performed the introductions and mentally assessed each visitor. Mr. Victor Parkins, balding, paunchy, was obviously taken with his cousin. Rich enough, well-enough connected, but not a dazzling-enough catch. She could aim higher. Charles Hammond, charming, handsome, also set out to dazzle Sylvia. Not a bad connection, but something of a rake. The chit looked interested, too. He must be careful that Hammond did not get too close to her at next week's ball. Sir Bernard Crawleigh was eminently suitable. He had the connections, the presence, and the wealth to win Raymore's approval. The earl watched in some fascination, though, as the young man directed his interest, not at Sylvia, but at Rosalind. He had no chance to observe her reactions as his attention was claimed by the arrival of Sidney Darnley, come to view the newly arrived heiresses.

By the end of the evening, Raymore was still feeling satisfied with himself and his wards. He should be able to get them off his hands by the end of the Season. Even Miss Dacey need not be a hopeless case if she could find a way of hiding her deformity and if she would keep her caustic tongue still.

He lingered with his party until most of the audience had left the theater. He let Sir Henry lead Sylvia out and then offered his arm to Rosalind. He drew her arm through his and held it firmly against his side as he led her down the stairs and out to the pavement, where his carriage had now found an empty spot in which to wait.

Rosalind fumed and shrank away from the hard masculine body against which she was being pulled. "My walk may not be elegant, my lord," she said quietly, for his ears only, "but I am capable of moving unassisted from place to place."

He looked sidelong at her, his eyes glacial as usual. "I hoped to save you from embarrassment," he said.

"You could do that very effectively," she retorted, "by allowing me to return home."

"Touche," he answered. "You do enjoy having the last word, Miss Dacey, do you not?"

He handed her into the carriage and jumped in after her. Sir Henry excused himself as soon as they arrived back in Grosvenor Square. He did assure Rosalind, though, that his wife would invite her to visit whenever she felt well enough. The earl, too, left the house again to visit one of his clubs, having seen his wards safely into the care of Cousin Hetty and the dogs.

Rosalind and Sylvia spent a fairly quiet time for the five days that remained before the ball. They went shopping with Cousin Hetty a few times and helped her walk the dogs in the park during the mornings. But they could neither receive nor accept any invitations until they had made their official come-out.

Sylvia was impatient, but happy. The shopping expeditions and the arrival of the bulk of their new wardrobes filled her with excited anticipation. And the visit to the theater had whetted her appetite for more meetings with society.

"Did you not think Mr. Hammond exceedingly charming, Ros?" she asked one afternoon when Rosalind sat on her bed while Sylvia held her new clothes against herself one at a time and surveyed the effect in a long mirror.

"I certainly noticed that he was handsome," Rosalind replied with a smile. "Do you like him?"

"Do you suppose he has been invited to Cousin Edward's ball?" Sylvia wondered, answering the question indirectly.

"He must be acquainted with our guardian or he would not have come to his box at the theater," Rosalind said. "It is likely that he will have received an invitation."

"Oh, I do hope so," Sylvia said.

Rosalind tried as far as possible to forget about the coming ball. She was pleased two days after the theater visit to receive a note from Lady Elise Martel, inviting both Sylvia and herself to call on her during the afternoon. Sylvia declined, as she had already agreed to go with Cousin Hetty to a milliner's for the purchase of several new bonnets. Rosalind was glad of the excuse to avoid having to go with her, and she genuinely looked forward to meeting Lady Elise. She had liked her husband very much.

The Earl of Raymore's carriage delivered her to Sir Henry's home. A butler took her bonnet and gloves and showed her into a light and airy sitting room. Lady Elise rose to greet her. She was a smiling, auburn-haired lady, very pretty, Rosalind decided, despite her large bulk.