There was not a gentleman in sight.

Parasols dipped and swayed above smart coiffures, protecting delicate complexions. Other ladies simply sat back, glorying in the weak sunshine, smiling, laughing and chatting. While substantial, the noise was not overpowering-indeed, it subtly beckoned. There was a gaiety, a relaxed sense of ease pervading the group, unexpected in conjunction with its blatantly tonnish air. This wasn't fashion and brittle frivolity-this was a fashionable family gathering; the distinction was clear.

The large number of guests was a surprise; Horatia had assured her she would meet only family members and a few close connections. Before she managed to fully grasp the reality, a beautiful older woman came sweeping up to meet them as they descended the steps to the lawn.

" 'Oratia!" The Dowager exchanged kisses with her sister-in-law, but her gaze had already moved on to Flick. "And who is this?" A glorious smile and bright eyes softened the abrupt query.

"Allow me to present Miss Felicity Parteger-Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, my dear."

Flick curtsied deeply. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace."

As she straightened, Helena took her hand, directing an arrested, inquiring glance at Horatia.

"Felicity is Gordon Caxton's ward."

With one blink, Helena had the reference pegged. "Ah-the good General." She smiled at Flick. "Is he well?"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am."

With the air of one who could contain herself no longer, Horatia broke in, "Harry brought Felicity up to town. She'll be staying with us in Berkeley Square, and I'll be taking her into society."

Helena's gaze flew to Horatia's face; her smile deepened, and deepened. Looking again at Flick, she positively beamed. "My dear, I am so very glad to meet you!"

Before Flick could blink, the Dowager embraced her enthusiastically, then, one arm about her waist, bustled her down the lawn. With a Gallic charm impossible to resist, the Dowager introduced her to her sisters-in-law first, then the older ladies, and eventually the younger ones, two of whom, clearly twins, were adjured to ensure Flick wanted for nothing, including help with names and relationships.

The pair were the most ravishing blonde beauties Flick had ever seen. They had skin like alabaster, eyes like cornflower pools and a wealth of ringlets almost as golden as her own. She expected them to hang back-they might be younger than she, but she was definitely not in their social league. To her surprise, they smiled at her delightedly-every bit as delightedly as their mother and aunts had-and swooped forward to link arms with her.

"Excellent! I thought this party would be just the usual thing-pleasant but hardly exciting. Instead, we get to meet you!"

Flick blinked-she glanced from one to the other, trying to remember which was which. "I've never thought of myself as exciting."

"Hah! You must be, otherwise Demon would never have looked your way."

The second girl laughed. "Don't mind Amanda." She grinned as Flick glanced around. "I'm Amelia. You'll get used to telling us apart-we're not identical."

They weren't, but they were very much alike.

"Tell us," Amelia urged, "how long have you known Demon?"

"We ask," Amanda put in, "because until the last few weeks he's been severely testing our sanity by watching over us at the balls and major parties."

"Indeed. So we know he went up to Newmarket a few weeks ago. Is that where you met him?"

"We did meet at Newmarket," Flick agreed, "but I've lived there since I was seven, and I've known Demon from the first."

Both girls stared at her, then Amanda frowned. "What the devil's he been doing, keeping you hidden away like that?"

"Excuse us for asking, but you are older than us, aren't you? We're eighteen."

"I'm twenty," Flick replied. The twins were taller and certainly more socially assured, but there was a subtle difference; she hadn't imagined herself younger than them.

"So why," Amanda reiterated, "didn't Demon bring you down last year? He's not one for dragging his boots-not him."

"He does tend to drive fast," Flick grinned. "He didn't bring me down last year, because… well, he didn't really know I existed last year."

That comment, of course, led to further questions, further revelations. Which cleared the way for Flick to ask why Demon had been watching them.

"Sometimes I think it's simply to drive us mad, but truly they can't seem to help themselves, poor dears."

Amanda shook her head. "It's something in the blood."

"Luckily, once they marry, they're not such a bother. They'd still interfere if they could, mind you, but Honoria, Patience and Catriona have so far kept Devil, Vane and Richard out of our way." Amelia looked at Flick. "And now you'll be here to keep Demon occupied."

"With any luck," Amanda added dryly,"the others will find ladies to dote on before we become ape-leaders."

Flick grinned. "Surely they can't be that inhibiting."

"Oh, can't they?" the twins chorused. They promptly recounted a series of events illustrating their claim, in the process giving Flick vignettes of Demon within the ton-surrounded by beautiful women. Sensing her interest, the twins dismissively waved aside his London conquests.

"Don't worry about them-they never last long, and now he'll be too busy with you."

"Watching over you, thank heaven!" Amanda raised her eyes to the skies. "Only got two more to go."

Amelia chuckled, and looked at Flick. "Gabriel and Lucifer."

"Who?"

The twins laughed, and explained about their older male cousins, the group known as the Bar Cynster.

"We're not supposed to know about the Bar Cynster, so remember not to mention it to Demon," Amanda warned.

They continued, giving her a potted history of the family-who was whose child, brother, sister. They beckoned the only younger girl over-their cousin, Heather, nearly sixteen.

"I won't be presented until next year," Heather sighed, "but Mama said I could attend the family events this year. Aunt Louise is giving an informal ball next week."

"You'll be invited," Amanda assured Flick. "We'll make sure your name is on the list."

Amelia stifled a snort. "Mama will make sure your name is on the list."

Minutes later, they were summoned to distribute the tea cups. Flick did her share, moving easily among the company. Although every lady she paused beside spoke with her, beyond the information Horatia had imparted regarding her visit, not one word was said-not one inference drawn. At least, not within her hearing. Every lady made her feel welcome, and if, by dint of subtle questioning, they extracted her entire life history from her, it was no more than she'd expected. But they were the very opposite of nosy, and certainly not judgmental-their warm approval, their ready acceptance, the protection of the group so openly offered very nearly overwhelmed her.

One very old, very sharp-eyed lady closed a claw about her hand. "If you find yourself in a ballroom, gel, and at a loss what to do, then find one of us-even those flighty flibbertigibbets"-Lady Osbaldestone's black gaze skewered the twins, then she looked up at Flick-"and just ask. The ton can be a confusing place, but that's what family's for-you needn't feel shy."

"Thank you, ma'am." Flick bobbed a curtsy. "I'll remember."

"Good. Now you may give me one of those macaroons. Dare say Clara there would like one, too."

Lady Osbaldestone was not the only one to offer advice and support. Long before the afternoon came to an end and she and Lady Horatia took their leave, amid embraces, waves and plans to meet again, Flick felt she had literally been gathered to the bosom of the Cynster clan.

Settling back in the carriage, Horatia closed her eyes. Flick did the same, and looked back over the afternoon.