At the end of an hour, when impatience finally drove Stephen to begin brushing aside everyone's objections to his plan, Hugh Whitticomb suddenly decided to give his professional medical opinion of it as Sherry's physician. "I'm sorry, I cannot allow it," he said flatly.

"Would you care to enlighten me as to your reason?" Stephen said caustically when the physician acted as if the matter was settled and there was nothing more to be said.

"Certainly. Your contention that Society will overlook Miss Lancaster's lack of knowledge about our ways because she is American may be partially correct. However, Miss Lancaster is sensitive enough to notice immediately that she's lacking in certain social skills, and she is likely to become her harshest critic. That will add to the extreme stress she is already under, which I cannot permit to happen. The Season begins in a few days, and that's an impossibly short time for her to learn everything she'd need to know to make a full-fledged debut, as intelligent as she is."

"Even if that weren't an obstacle," Whitney added, "we still wouldn't be able to outfit her for the full Season on such short notice. It will take a great deal of pressure to influence Madame LaSalle, or any other acceptable modiste, to set to work on a wardrobe for Miss Lancaster when they're already impossibly busy working for their regular clients."

Ignoring that problem for the moment, Stephen directed his remarks to Whitticomb. "We can't keep her locked away from everyone. That won't help her meet potential suitors, and furthermore, people will begin to talk and wonder why we feel the need to hide her. More important, Sherry herself will begin to wonder about that, and I suspect the conclusion she'll draw is that we're ashamed of her."

"I hadn't considered that," Whitticomb admitted, looking deeply troubled by the possibility.

"I suggest we compromise," Stephen said, wondering why everyone else seemed bent on finding problems, instead of solutions. "We'll keep her social appearances to a minimum. So long as one of us stays at her side whenever she attends a function, we can shield her from too many questions."

"You can't shield her completely," Whitticomb argued. "What will you tell people about who she is and how she lost her memory?"

"We'll tell them the truth, but without going into too much detail. We will say that she suffered an injury, and though we can all vouch for her identity, as well as for her being of unexceptional birth and character, she simply cannot answer questions for a while."

"You know how cruel people can be! Why, her lack of knowledge could be mistaken for stupidity."

"Stupidity?" Stephen scoffed with a harsh laugh. "How long has it been since you went to a debutante ball and tried to carry on a sensible conversation with any of the chits making their annual debut?" Without waiting for a reply, he said, "I can still remember the last time I did—half of them were incapable of discourse on any topic beyond the latest fashion and the weather. The rest of them couldn't do anything but blush and simper. Sherry is extremely intelligent, and that will be evident to anyone with enough wit to recognize intelligence when it is right in front of them."

"I don't think she'll seem stupid to anyone," Whitney put in slowly. "They're more likely to think her wonderfully mysterious, particularly the younger beaux."

"It's settled then," Stephen said with an implacable finality that warned further argument would be futile. "Whitney, you and Mother make the arrangements to see her appropriately attired. We'll introduce her to Society under our own aegis, and then make certain that at least one of us is always with her. Let's begin by taking her to the opera, where she can be seen but not easily approached. After that, a musicale, a few teas. Her looks are so extraordinary that she's bound to attract considerable attention, and when she doesn't immediately appear at all the balls, the mystery surrounding her will grow, and as Whitney pointed out, that's actually to our advantage." Feeling satisfied that all the important considerations had been resolved, Stephen looked around and said, "Does anyone have anything else that needs to be discussed?"

"One thing," his mother said very emphatically. "She cannot possibly stay under your roof with you another night. If it were known she'd been in this house alone and unchaperoned, nothing we could do or say would salvage her reputation or enable her to make a suitable match. It will be a miracle if servants' gossip hasn't already spread."

"The servants adore her. They wouldn't utter a word to hurt her."

"Be that as it may, they are bound to talk with other people's servants without intending to harm her. By the time the on-dits have circulated through the city, she'll have become your paramour, and we cannot risk that sort of gossip."

"I suppose Clayton and I could invite her to stay with us," Whitney said reluctantly when Stephen seemed to be waiting for her to make the offer, but she wasn't at all pleased with the solution. She didn't want to remove Sherry from Stephen's immediate sphere. Once the round of social activities began with the crushes of people at all of them, Stephen might not encounter her for days at a stretch, or only for a few minutes at a time.

"Fine," Stephen agreed with annoying satisfaction. "She'll stay with you."

Hugh Whitticomb removed his wire-rimmed spectacles and began to polish the lenses with his handkerchief. "I'm afraid that plan isn't fine with me."

Stephen made a Herculean effort to keep his impatience with the balky physician under control. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I cannot allow her to be removed into unfamiliar surroundings among people she does not know." When Stephen's brows snapped together and he opened his mouth to argue, Hugh Whitticomb looked around at the gathering, his tone dire with warning. "Miss Lancaster believes she is betrothed to Stephen and that he cares deeply for her. He is the one who stayed by her bedside when she was hovering near death, and he is the one she relies upon."

"I'll explain to her about the social stigma she risks by remaining here," Stephen said briskly. "She will understand that it simply isn't appropriate."

"She does not have the slightest concept of the importance of appropriate behavior, Stephen," Whitticomb contradicted smoothly. "If she had, she wouldn't have been standing down here in a lavender peignoir the night I came by to visit her."

"Stephen!" his mother exclaimed.

"She was fully covered," he said with a dismissive shrug. "And it was all she had to wear."

Nicki DuVille joined the debate. "She cannot stay here unchaperoned. I won't permit it."

"You have nothing to say about it," Stephen countered.

"I think I do. I will not have the character of my future wife besmirched. I, too, have a family who must accept her."

Leaning back in his chair, Stephen steepled his hands and regarded him with unconcealed dislike for several moments before he remarked in a voice as cold as his gaze, "I do not recall hearing you actually offer for her, DuVille."

Nicki lifted a challenging brow. "Would you like to hear me do so now?"

"I told you that I want her to have a choice of suitors," he said in an ominous voice. Stephen wondered how his brother could countenance such an arrogant bastard within a mile of his wife. "At this time, you are nothing but a possible contender for her hand. If you wish to retain that status for another sixty seconds, I suggest—"

"I could stay here with Miss Lancaster," the dowager interjected desperately.

The two men reluctantly ended their visual duel and looked to Hugh Whitticomb for a decision. Instead of immediately replying, Hugh began polishing his other lens while he considered the dampening effect the dowager's presence was likely to have on a budding romance. A regal, imposing woman even late in her fifth decade, she was much too keen to permit the sort of cozy atmosphere Hugh wanted to see preserved between Stephen and Sherry Lancaster. Moreover, she would be bound to intimidate Sherry, no matter how she tried to do the opposite. Rapidly considering the most persuasive argument against her solution, he said, "In the interest of your own health, Your Grace, I do not think you ought to tax yourself with the responsibilities of a constant chaperone. I would not want to see a recurrence of last year's problem."

"But you said it wasn't serious, Hugh," she protested.

"I'd like to keep it that way."

"He's right, Mother." Feeling that he'd already overburdened his family with his own problems, Stephen seconded the motion and added, "We need to find someone who can stay with her at all times, a chaperone of unimpeachable character and reputation who could also serve as a ladies' companion."

"There's Lucinda Throckmorton-Jones," the dowager duchess said after a moment's thought. "No one would dare to question the acceptability and character of any young lady in her charge."

"Good God, no!" Hugh exclaimed, so forcefully that everyone gaped at him. "That hatchet-faced dragon may be the duenna of choice among some of our best families, but she'd drive Miss Lancaster back to her sickbed! The woman actually refused to budge from my elbow when I put salve on a burned thumb belonging to one of her charges. Acted like she suspected I might want to seduce the silly chit."

"Well, then who do you suggest?" Stephen snapped, losing all patience with the balky, unhelpful physician.

"Leave that matter to me," Hugh amazed him by saying. "I may know just the lady, if her health is adequate to the task. She's quite lonely, and feeling rather useless these days."

The dowager duchess regarded him with interest. "Whom do you mean?"

Rather than risk having the astute lady immediately veto his choice, Hugh decided to take matters into his own hands and then present them with a fait accompli. "Let me give it further thought, before I narrow the choice down to one. I may bring her by tomorrow. Another night under Stephen's roof cannot do Sherry any more harm than has already been done."

They broke off as Colfax knocked on the door and said that Miss Lancaster was just returning in the carriage.

"I think that covers everything." Stephen stood up, concluding the meeting.

"Everything, but two small details," Clayton pointed out. "How do you intend to gain your fiancé's cooperation in your scheme to find her another husband without crushing her or humiliating her? And what do you intend to do when she tells someone she is betrothed to you? They'll laugh her out of London."

Stephen opened his mouth to point out yet again that he was not her fiancé, and then gave up. "I'll handle that tonight or tomorrow," he said instead.

"Be tactful," Hugh warned. "Do not upset her."

Whitney stood up, pulling on her gloves. "I think I'd better pay a personal call on Madame LaSalle at once. Persuading her to drop everything and go to work on a complete wardrobe now, when the Season is about to go into full swing, will require a miracle."

"It will require a great deal of Stephen's gold, not a miracle," her husband said with a chuckle. "I'll drop you at LaSalle's shop on my way to White's."

"White's is in the opposite direction, Claymore," Nicki pointed out. "If you would allow me to escort your wife to the modiste, perhaps along the way she could suggest the best way for me to gain Miss Lancaster's confidence."

With no feasible reason to object, Clayton nodded curtly, and DuVille offered his arm to Whitney, who paused to press a kiss on Clayton's cheek. As the foursome departed, both brothers watched DuVille's retreating back with matching scowls.

"How often," Stephen asked cynically, "have you wanted to knock DuVille's teeth down his throat?"

"Not as often as I suspect you are going to," Clayton said dryly.

"What do you think, Nicki?" Whitney asked after glancing behind her to make certain Stephen's butler was closing the door and not eavesdropping in the doorway.

He shot her a sideways smile as he signalled for his carriage. "I think that, at this moment, your husband and your brother-in-law are longing for any excuse to draw my blood."

Whitney smothered a laugh as a footman rushed forward to let down the steps, and she climbed into the carriage. "I think Stephen is the more eager."

"An alarming thought," he said, chuckling, "since he has the hotter temper and the reputation as a crack shot."

She sobered. "Nicki, my husband was very specific in there about our not interfering. I thought you understood the warning I was trying to give you to forget all about volunteering yourself as Miss Lancaster's suitor. You will have to excuse yourself from the contest at the first opportunity. Clayton rarely forbids me anything, and I will not defy him when he does."

"You are not defying him, chérie. I am. Furthermore, he said only that the 'family' could not interfere. I am not part of your family, to my everlasting regret."

He grinned to take the solemnity out of it, and Whitney knew he was merely flirting. "Nicki—"

"Yes, my love?"

"Do not call me that."

"Yes, Your Grace?" he teased.

"Do you remember how painfully naive and gauche I was when you decided to help 'launch' me into Society by attending my debut and paying me particular attention?"

"You were never gauche, chérie. You were refreshingly innocent and unconventional."

"Charise Lancaster," she persisted, "is as inexperienced as I was. More so. Do not let her mistake your attention for real devotion. I mean, do not let her care for you too much. I couldn't bear it if we were responsible for hurting her more than she has been."

Nicki stretched his long legs out in front of him, looked at them in thought for a moment, then he slanted her a smile. "When I attended your debut, I remember warning you that you must not confuse a harmless flirtation for something more meaningful. I did that so you would not be hurt. Do you recall the occasion?"

"Yes."

"And in the end, you were the one who rejected me."

"After which you soothed your 'broken heart' with an endless string of willing ladies."

He didn't deny it, but said instead, "Charise Lancaster reminded me of you from the moment I saw her. I cannot say why I think she is very out of the ordinary, or how deep the resemblance to you goes, but I am looking forward to the discovery."

"I want her for Stephen, Nicki. She is right for him. I know Dr. Whitticomb thinks as I do. All you were supposed to do is pay her enough attention to make Stephen a little jealous—"

"I think I can handle that without trying," he chuckled.

"—so that Stephen will have to see how desirable she is and that he's at risk of losing her to another."

"If you mean to adhere to your husband's dictate about not becoming involved, I am afraid you are going to have to leave the methods to me. Agreed?"

"Agreed."