"Really, Mr. Morland, I am very flattered, but you probably ought not to say things like that," Harriet said primly.

"Because you are said to be engaged to St. Justin? I choose to ignore that."

"I am not said to be engaged, I am engaged. And it is hardly something one can ignore, Mr. Morland."

"I still cannot bring myself to believe that you have irrevocably tied yourself to the Beast of Blackthorne Hall," Bryce said grimly.

Harriet stumbled, shocked to hear the epithet spoken aloud here in London. She knew it was whispered behind her back, but it was the first time anyone had referred to Gideon in such terms in her presence.

A rush of anger brought Harriet to a halt right in the middle of the dance floor, forcing Morland to stop also. Several heads turned in curiosity. Harriet ignored them as she fixed Morland with an icy glare.

"You will not refer to my fiancé in those terms again. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Morland?"

Bryce lowered his golden lashes, half concealing his pale eyes. "Forgive me, Miss Pomeroy. My concern for you got the better of me."

"You need not be concerned on my behalf, sir. Anything you may have heard about my fiancé is no more than idle gossip."

"Unfortunately, I fear that is not the case. I am well acquainted with St. Justin, Miss Pomeroy."

Harriet gazed at him in startled surprise. "You are?"

"Oh, yes. He and I were friends at one time."

"Friends?"

"Yes. We grew up together in Upper Biddleton. I stood by him at the time of his fiancée's death. In fact I am the only one who did so. Not that I approved of what he did, you understand. But he was my friend and I do not turn my back on my friends, no matter what they have done. I would still be his friend today, but St. Justin has chosen to ignore me along with everyone else in the Polite World."

Harriet frowned. "I did not know that, sir."

Bryce took her back into his arms and resumed dancing. Harriet did not resist. She was very curious now. This was the first person she had met in either Upper Biddleton or London who claimed to be a friend of Gideon's.

"You say you knew St. Justin several years ago?"

"Yes." Bryce smiled his angelic smile, eyes mirroring an old regret. "We did everything together at one time. I do not mind telling you we enjoyed ourselves for several Seasons. There were nights when we gambled until dawn and went straight on to a racing meet or a boxing match without bothering to go home to bed. There was nothing we would not try at least once. Then Deirdre Rushton came to town for her Season. And everything changed."

Harriet bit her lip. "Perhaps we should not discuss this further, sir."

Bryce smiled with understanding. "God knows I have wished often enough that I could forget what happened that Season. Sometimes I think back to the events, wondering if there was something I could have done to avert the tragedy."

"You must not blame yourself, Mr. Morland," Harriet said quickly.

"But I was Gideon's best friend," Bryce said. "I knew him better than anyone else. I realized he was reckless and determined to have his own way. And I knew Deirdre was as innocent as she was beautiful. Gideon saw her and wanted her at once."

Harriet frowned. "They were both from Upper Biddleton. They must have known each other before Deirdre Rushton had her Season."

"Although they lived in the same village, they had not really spent much time in each other's company," Bryce explained. "I had not seen much of her, either. Deirdre was, after all, still in the schoolroom until her father managed a Season for her. And Gideon was older, of course. He was off to school and then to London while Deirdre was growing into womanhood."

"I have heard she was very lovely," Harriet said quietly.

"She was. And I will tell you quite truthfully that she was not in love with Gideon. How could she have fallen in love with him?"

"Very easily, I should imagine," Harriet retorted.

"Nonsense. She was a beautiful creature who was naturally attracted to beauty in others. She once confided to me that she found it almost impossible to look at Gideon's scarred face. It was all she could do to dance with him when he demanded it."

"What fustian," Harriet snapped. "There is nothing offensive about St. Justin's face. And he dances wonderfully."

Bryce smiled. "You are very generous, my dear. But the truth is, most people find it quite difficult to look at him. He has had the scar for over ten years, you know."

"No, I did not know."

"He got it during a rapier duel."

Harriet's eyes widened. "I had not realized."

"I am one of the few people who know the full story. I told you I was his best friend at the time."

Harriet tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. "If Deirdre Rushton was so put off by the sight of Gideon—I mean, St. Justin—why did she agree to become engaged to him?"

'"For the usual reasons," Bryce said calmly. "Her father insisted. Deirdre was an obedient daughter and the Reverend Rushton was very anxious for her to marry into such a well-connected family. Had a fancy to see his daughter married to the son of an earl. When Gideon offered marriage, Rushton virtually forced her to accept. It was no secret at the time."

Harriet remembered what Mrs. Stone had said. Apparently everyone had come to the same conclusion about the reasons behind the engagement. "How awful for Gideon," Harriet whispered.

Bryce's eyes warmed with old sorrow. "Perhaps that was why he did what he did."

"What are you talking about?"

"Miss Pomeroy, it is difficult for me to say this, but perhaps you should be on your guard. You have no doubt heard the accusation that St. Justin ravished Deirdre Rush-ton while they were engaged?"

"And abandoned her. Yes, I have heard it and I do not believe it."

Bryce's expression was solemn. "It grieves me to point this out to you, but you must be realistic. It is a certainty that Deirdre was taken by force. I can tell you that she would never have given herself to Gideon willingly until it was absolutely necessary. That would have been on her wedding night and not before."

"I refuse to believe that St. Justin forced himself on his fiancée." Harriet was appalled. Once again she came to a halt on the dance floor. She pulled herself free from Bryce's grasp. "That is nothing short of a lie and you, sir, should not repeat it to a soul. I will not listen to any more of this."

She whirled around and stalked off the floor without waiting for Bryce to escort her. A murmur of intrigued and amused voices followed her. She ignored them as she made her way back to the group of fossil enthusiasts.

Her new friends greeted her warmly and welcomed her quickly back into the conversation. What a relief, Harriet thought, to find herself among people who had something more important to discuss than old gossip.

Oliver, Lord Applegate, an earnest young baron who was three years older than Harriet, smiled at her with undisguised admiration. He had only recently come into his title and at times his efforts to live up to his new role in life caused him to be a bit pompous. But other than that, he was really quite pleasant and Harriet liked him.

"Ah, there you are, Miss Pomeroy." Applegate moved at once to her side. He held out a glass of lemonade he had procured for her. "You are just in time to help me crush Lady Youngstreet's arguments. She is trying to convince us all that the deposits of polished blocks of stone and masses of rubble one finds in the foothills of the alpine regions are evidence of the Great Flood."

"Quite right," Lady Youngstreet declared forcefully. A large, imposing woman of a certain age, she was a very active collector. She had actually spent some time hunting fossils on the Continent after the war with Napoleon had ended. She never hesitated to remind the other members of that singular fact. "What else, pray tell, except water, great quantities of water, could have moved huge stones and tumbled them about in such an extraordinary fashion?"