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Poking fun at Lady Stockhurst would give Evan about as much amusement as jabbing a puppy with a sharp stick.

But what was her daughter to do? She couldn’t very well say, “No, don’t give a lecture—they all just want the excuse to laugh at you.”

“That’s lovely,” Lady Elaine said. As she spoke, her eyes cut toward Evan, her glance sharp and unforgiving.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. How could he have thought to paper matters over with a mere apology? He’d left this behind, unfinished, all those years ago.

And now his old sins were returning to haunt him. This time, he wasn’t going to let them win.

“Wasn’t that a lovely evening?” Lady Stockhurst, Elaine’s mother, hummed to herself as she moved about the tiny sitting room that had been allotted to them. She flitted like a butterfly, light and graceful. Like a butterfly, her interest landed on a silver-backed brush that lay on a chest of drawers. When she picked it up and turned it about, the light from the oil-lamp reflected off its surface into Elaine’s eyes.

Elaine winced and looked away.

“And you danced
three
times.”

“Yes,” Elaine said uncomfortably. “I did.” She sighed. “At least that’s three times better than the last ball.”

Her mother set the brush down with a click. “No, it is
infinity
times better, the ratio of naught to three being boundless. If you continue to attract dance partners at an infinite rate, at the next ball you attend, every man in all of England will ask you to dance.”

Elaine smiled. “You’re being ridiculous, Mama.”

Her mother frowned. “Yes,” she finally admitted. “It is rather optimistic to extrapolate a geometrical trend from two data points.”

Elaine sighed. Her mother was…well, she definitely wasn’t
stupid
. Lady Stockhurst probably understood more than half the Fellows of the Royal Society. On the subjects of astronomy and mathematics, she was the most discerning person that Elaine knew.

For just about everything else…while her mother was not stupid, she could be remarkably oblivious. A more attentive mother might have looked at Elaine and seen a daughter who had failed to find a husband after eleven Seasons. Any other parent would have realized that Elaine was a social failure. But Elaine’s mother looked at her daughter and saw perfection.

Elaine tried not to overturn her mother’s illusions too dreadfully.

“It is
so nice
that Westfeld is back.” Her mother traced a dark imperfection on the mirror and then inscribed an elliptical orbit around it.

“Mmmm.”

As she spoke, Lady Stockhurst marked the perihelion on her orbit and measured it with her fingers. “You know, I always thought he was rather sweet upon you.”

Elaine stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of her vision, she could catch a glimpse of the maid they had brought with them. Mary paused in the act of brushing her dress, her eyes bobbing up toward Elaine’s in an unspoken question.

Elaine looked away and chose her next words carefully. “Perhaps you overestimate. You thought Viscount Saxtony was interested, too.”

An annoyed wave of her hand. “And he was—if only he had not been so fickle as to marry elsewhere.”

“You said Sir Mark Turner was in love with me.”

“As well he should be, if he’s any notion what is good for him. You should make a fine couple—both blond and tall. He needs a wife. And you are both so popular.”

Elaine bit her lip. Sir Mark Turner was wanted everywhere because he’d been knighted by the queen. If Elaine was wanted
anywhere
, it was to serve as the butt of their jokes.

Lady Stockhurst smiled faintly, and smudged out the orbit she’d drawn on the mirror. “Did I mention I’m to give a lecture?”

“Yes.” Elaine shivered. Her mother
would
give a lecture, and everyone would snicker at her. Elaine had sat through those before—the snide whispers about how amusing it was to see a woman aping a man. It was hard for Elaine to ignore insults when they were directed at her personally. But it was excruciating to bite her tongue when those voices mocked her mother.

Still, her mother never seemed to notice. She would take their sarcastic jeers at the end as honest applause. Elaine alone would seethe on her mother’s behalf, furious and humiliated and unwilling to steal the brightness from her mother’s eyes by telling the truth.

“I’m glad we came,” her mother said with a decisive nod.

Elaine stood and walked to her mother, and set her arm around her shoulders. “I am, too,” she said. And she truly was. Her mother would enjoy it, and if she didn’t know, could it hurt her?

But her mother’s shoulders seemed thin and fragile. Lady Stockhurst was brilliant and confused and…and utterly dear.

“Tell me,” Elaine said, “surely you were not thinking of Westfeld in the ballroom. What
did
you have on your mind?”

It was the right thing to say. Her mother smiled immediately. “Yes, well. I was thinking that it is a matter of simple mathematics to determine the gravitational forces between any two bodies. Add in a third, however, and the equations turn to a mess. There were so many bodies in the ballroom—so many forces. One could not simply apply perturbations to project the future.” She shook her head briskly. “This is why people are so hard to understand. I cannot even estimate their gravitational pull.”

In spite of herself, Elaine smiled. Her mother would never figure out that her daughter was practically a pariah. She would never be able to fit the censure and laughter and insults that her daughter suffered into equations.

Perhaps that was why, after all these years, her love for her daughter had never altered. She was impervious to social reality. She saw only what she wished to see, and for that, Elaine loved her fiercely.

Her mother turned and walked to the door of her bedchamber. “I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings,” she said in parting.

Elaine held her smile until her mother disappeared.

Lord above. The party would last another two days. Forty-eight hours with Lord Westfeld and Lady Cosgrove? It was going to be hell.

If Dante had chosen to make an example of Evan, he could not have crafted a more particularized version of hell.

Evan had tried to warn Diana off Elaine—at first subtly, then more pointedly. The afternoon after the ball, Diana had spent a good ten minutes encouraging Lady Stockhurst while the other ladies subtly tittered into their gloves. And so Evan had taken her aside.

“Leave her alone.”

She pretended confusion at first. “Why, whatever do you mean? Lady Stockhurst
loves
to share her ideas.” A dimple peeked out on her cheek, and her eyelashes dipped down, as if she expected him to share in the joke.

Once, he would have. “That’s not what I mean. You’re doing this to humiliate Lady Elaine, and I’ve had enough of that.”

His cousin continued to smile, but her dimple faded. “I’m doing this for you.”

“I don’t want it. Cease. Immediately.”

Her face fell. He shouldn’t have felt like a cad for remonstrating with her, but he did.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and tried again. “We started the game when we were children.”

They’d been cousins, growing up on neighboring estates, ignored by all but their nursemaids and tutors. And even though Evan had gone away to school, when he’d stayed there summers she had been his only companion. After their quiet, somewhat solitary childhood, they’d entered society together. The heady whirl of constant company had been overwhelming—frightening and fun and impossible, all at once.

He protected her. She protected him. Together, they’d been unstoppable.

Truly, someone should have stopped them.

He shook his head. “We’re not children any longer. There’s no need for this.”

She set her hand on his wrist. “You’ve been gone, Evan. You don’t remember what London society is like. They’re wolves out here, and it’s devour or be devoured in turn. If you don’t grasp your place in society, you’ll have it torn from you. Just like your Lady Elaine.”

“I remember perfectly well what London society is like.”

Diana’s eyes sparked, and she looked up at him defiantly. “Perhaps you think very little of me now, as I’m only a stupid, foolish girl who married an older man and stayed home while you were out exploring the world. But my husband is forever on the continent. It was a godsend for me when you returned. You are the closest thing I have to a brother, and I will
not
let you throw away your reputation or your good position in society, simply because you’ve got some antiquated notion of chivalry in your head.”

“There’s nothing antiquated about basic human decency,” Evan snapped.

“Listen to yourself! This is not who you are—this stodgy fellow, dressed in brown. I
know
you. You haven’t had a bit of fun since your father passed away. I did
not
drag you all the way to Hampshire so you could wallow in boredom.”

“I don’t mind a bit of amusement,” he said quietly. “But I no longer think that ruining a lady’s life is a reasonable way to pass the time.”

She shrugged one shoulder. But she didn’t understand, and she didn’t believe him. He could tell, because throughout dinner she needled Elaine with a constant stream of sly innuendo, and no amount of repressive throat-clearing on his part would cut her off.

Dessert was soured by the tiny barbs his cousin delivered. And when Evan and the other gentlemen joined the ladies once more after port and cigars, he could see immediately that she’d not let off her sport. Lady Elaine sat on a long divan, bracketed between Diana and her mother. Even if he hadn’t known Diana, there was a particularly hunted look in the lines around Lady Elaine’s eyes that told him everything he needed to know.

Someone suggested cards; another person a game of charades. The discussion continued, as servants handed out delicate flutes of dark-red wine punch, chilled until condensation collected on the glass.

It was Diana who stopped the argument, gesturing with her glass of punch.

“Please,” she said, “my cousin has not been in company at all. And I have been
dying
to have him tell of his adventures.” Diana smiled at him prettily.

“Do tell,” Mr. Arleston said. And like that, everyone turned to regard Evan.

“Lady Cosgrove makes it sound so interesting.” Evan settled into the cushions of the chair. “But I only did the usual, I suppose. I wandered a season in Italy, a summer in Greece. I spent most of my time in France and Switzerland, though.”

“Oh, Paris. I love Paris.” That, from Mrs. Arleston.

Evan had forgotten what it was like to be the center of attention, everyone watching him, waiting for his next words.
People
had a pull for him, and even though he’d vowed he wouldn’t do it, he felt some of that old energy return. “I passed through Paris on a weekend, but I didn’t stay. I spent most of my time in Chamonix.”

The knowing looks turned to puzzlement, and all around people leaned forward in their chairs.

“Chamonix is a town in the French Alps, near Mont Blanc.”

“Is it beautiful, then?” Mrs. Arleston was frowning. “I can’t quite imagine spending all my time in a small town.”

“It is beautiful,” Evan said quietly. “But it huddles at the feet of the highest mountain in the entire alpine region. I climbed Mont Blanc three times.”

“Three times?” Mr. Patton set one hand over his rounded belly and shook his head. “Once, I can understand. It gives you a dubious set of bragging rights, I suppose. But thrice seems to be the product of an excess of ambition.”

“First time anyone has ever accused me of that,” Evan replied.

The ladies in the crowd smiled and shifted.

“I thought of attempting the Matterhorn, but I prefer to remain among the living. But my accomplishments are not so many. In that time, my cousin has married and produced four children. Surely that is the greater achievement.”

Diana was watching him now with a curious stare, and she took a sip of her wine. “Good heavens. How long does it take to climb Mont Blanc?”

“Depending upon the conditions? Not much more than a few days of grueling work, across desperate traverses covered in snow.” He paused to let the desolation of the landscape sink in.

Across from Diana, Mr. Patton frowned. “Well, you’ve accounted for a week out of ten years. What were you doing with the rest of your time?”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Preparing to climb Mont Blanc.”

“Preparing? For ten years? Does it take so long to buy rope and the like?”

Evan shook his head and bit back a smile.

But Diana burst in hotly, almost shoving her elbow into Lady Elaine at her side in her haste to speak on his behalf. “Mountaineering,” she lectured, “is quite dangerous, as anyone would know. There are…well, mountaineering
moves
that must be learned. Special ones. I’m sure we can’t understand the time that must be involved.”

His cousin had always had a hot temper—and while she might seem fickle to many, Evan knew that she was loyal at heart. She
would
defend him at all costs.

“And then,” Diana was continuing, “one must be quite particular about one’s gear. For there is not only rope to consider, but the boots, and the, uh, the special packs, and also the tampons.”

“Crampons,” Evan supplied.

“Crampons,” she repeated, without missing a beat.

“But in my experience,” Evan interrupted, “those who spend all their time making purchases and arguing about whether to use wrought iron or forged iron for boot-nails spend no time on the mountains at all. The most important part of climbing a mountain is not choosing rope, but learning to function as part of a team. You can’t go out by yourself. What would you do in a rockslide? What if you misstep on the edge of a cliff? If you cannot trust your compatriots, you risk death.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Patton put in. “You only hear about those puny Frenchmen expiring in such gruesome fashion. A strapping English lord? The mountains wouldn’t dare kill him.”

“What an amusing thing to say.” Evan didn’t feel like smiling. “I would not be here, had not a puny Frenchman saved me.”