"Eleanor, are you ready to leave?"

The lady finished her cup of chocolate in a rather larger gulp than she had intended and choked slightly. "Harry, it is much too early to be making morning visits! I presume you are meaning to call upon Harriet and her family to see what kept them from the ball last night?"

He looked slightly sheepish, but strode around the breakfast table to pull out her chair for her. "Yes, but such a friendship as you have with the family—that is—cannot be thought improper for you to be concerned?"

She could not help but laugh at the way his voice turned the last statement into a question and yielded. "Very well. I shall be ready to leave momentarily."

Eleanor had every expectation of finding her friend in attendance upon one of her mother's weak spells, but she was touched by Harry's genuine concern and it pleased her to see him furthering his relationship with Miss Webster. She hastily informed Mrs. Benson of their departure, summoned her maid to assist with her outerwear, and was back in the breakfast room before Harry was finished with his second plate of breakfast.

The butler who admitted them to the Webster household hesitated when Miss Thorne requested to see Miss Webster, but showed them into a sitting room and vanished, leaving the door ajar.

"Harry, I wonder if Mrs. Webster can be seriously unwell? Did you see Tofflemeir's expression?" she inquired in a hushed tone.

He returned a speaking glance, but voices in the hall distracted her from listening to his reply.

"—and you may rest assured, it will all be brought to a proper end without involving you or your family."

Standing as she was, she only caught a glimpse of Harriet's father and another man walking past, but she was almost certain that the speaker was Lord Lansworth.

Conjecture warred with curiosity in her mind, and she had not reached a logical explanation when a hasty step was heard in the hall and Harriet rushed in to grasp her in a quick embrace.

"Oh Eleanor! I am so glad you have come! Oh, Ha—Mr. Thorne!" The girls parted, and Eleanor watched in amusement as the couple engaged in several moments of awkward staring before Harry seized the small hand half-held out to him and pressed it warmly.

"You are well? No harm has come to you?" he inquired.

"No, that is, it was so terrifying! Poor Mamma! But she will be well I am sure…" Her words trailed off, as though deciding what to say. "We were held up by highwaymen!"

"I was sure something dreadful must have happened to you!" Harry insisted, guiding her to the sofa and finally releasing her hand.

Eleanor seated herself and listened in horror to Harriet's disjointed account of returning from a visit to an estate owned by a friend of her father's, only to find themselves held at pistol-point on the road.

"In broad daylight!" she interposed. "They must have been desperate!"

Miss Webster faltered, and seemed to not know how to express herself, before saying, "I am sure they must! I was paralyzed with fright, but Lord Lansworth has been everything kind, and he will make it all right."

"Lord Lansworth?" Harry inquired, not exactly pleased at this interposing of a new character into the account. His sister permitted herself an amused twitch of her mouth, recognizing that Harriet's esteem for the military gentleman seemed to be rather avuncular.

"Oh yes! He happened upon us, and drove away those villains, and was ever so kind to poor Mama when she suffered one of her spells. Only think! He even escorted us back to town, and he and Papa—well, I was truly sorry to miss seeing you—both," she tacked on hastily, turning to Eleanor. "Do tell me about the ball!"

As the highlights of Eleanor's evening had included smoothly snubbing Lord Wansbeck for her brother's hopes' sake, dancing a second waltz with Mr. Moretyne under the scandalized eye of Mrs. Benson and half a dozen other chaperones, and then cajoling that gentleman into inviting her to ride with him that afternoon, she thought it prudent to turn the subject to Mrs. Webster's frail health, and eventually faded into the background of the conversation to allow her brother to chat with Miss Webster.

When Mr. Moretyne's fiery gray hunter approached the Brook Street house that afternoon, Miss Thorne was preparing the flowing skirt of her habit for her groom's assistance to mount. She settled into the saddle in one easy motion, gathered her reins, and checked that her dashing hat a la Hussar was securely at its jaunty angle over her forehead before turning to give a dazzling smile to her escort. He was observing the prancing of her horse with an interested expression, but refrained from comment until she had coaxed Spartan into a tight circle and back to face him.

"Good afternoon, Miss Thorne! Do you wish me to tighten your curb strap before we depart?"

She sent him a fulminating glare, fingers clenching around the reins as her tension made the black horse toss his head, until she could trust herself to reply without snapping. "I assure you, sir, it is set where I want it."

Mr. Moretyne smirked at her, and she mentally chastised herself for rising to his bait. Her groom fell in as they turned their horses down the street in the direction of the park, making an imposing sight as the two horses seemed to sense the rivalry of their riders and danced their way onward.

Once within the gates, the gray lengthened his stride into a trot and Eleanor, on her mettle, collected Spartan into a canter. She caught the glance of her companion and on a flying change of lead, allowed the horse to move out as fast as propriety would allow.

The breeze whipping at her face soothed her irritation, and she was laughing when he pulled up beside her a quarter mile later. "One day we shall have to race these two, I believe they would be well matched!"

"I have never ridden against a lady in a race," Mr. Moretyne declared, "but I believe that if I ever did, it would likely be you, Miss Thorne."

She peeked at him through her lashes. "I trust that is intended as a compliment, sir!"

He offered a flirtatious rejoinder, and between teasing and remarks on the training of horses they proceeded around the park.

They had just agreed to turn around, and were heading back the way they had come, when a horseman trotted up on Miss Thorne's unoccupied side. "Granville! Miss Thorne! What a delight to find you here on such a fine afternoon."

Lord Lansworth's air was so cheerful that Eleanor could almost forget that she had thought she had seen him in the Websters' house just that morning. "On such a fine afternoon I wouldn't want to be found anywhere else!" she declared, reining Spartan to a walk to allow for conversation with the new arrival.

"You cannot know how delighted I am to hear you say so, Miss Thorne," interposed the gentleman on her other side. "There have been so many other men striving to win your favour that it humbles me to be the recipient of your preference."

Eleanor bit her lip. "I mean the park, sir, as I am certain you did too."

"That's the way, keep him on a curb rein, Miss Thorne," his lordship encouraged. "I trust you won't object to my joining you this short way?"

She eyed him interestedly, debating with herself what could be his motives. He seemed a gentleman, and as such would not interfere in his cousin's relationship, unless he had somehow seen through her ruse of pursuit. "Why should I object, sir?"

"I can think of no reason why you should," he returned, affecting a mock arrogance.

Miss Thorne chose to adopt an air of delight over the supposed rivalry of her two suitors, but inwardly she was chafing under the restrictions of the many tangled threads of her plot. She supposed that, should any number of unforeseen disasters come upon her, there was plenty of room at Thornedon for Harry's future family as well as an unfashionably equestrian spinster aunt.