The wood nymph

ungrateful person. Oh, I hope she does not come, Robert. We shall have to protect William from her if she does.'

Hetherington grinned broadly. 'You are quite irresistible, you know, Elizabeth, when you are angry,' he said. He swept the baby into his arms and placed him down on the floor, where a blanket was spread with toys. 'I am sorry, John, my boy, but I have a pressing need to hug your mama.'

'Robert!' she scolded as he took her into his arms. 'Do have a care. Nurse may be back at any moment.'

'And would have an immediate heart seizure to find me holding and kissing my own wife,' he said, smothering any further protests with his mouth.

***

All three of the Earl of Claymore's daughters had been invited to accompany Lord Harding to his home and to stay there for one night. Emily was clearly gratified. She had already confided to her mama that if he were to offer for her, she would accept. He was considerably older than she, of course, but he had all the dignity, position, and consequence that she looked for in a husband. And there was no denying that he was a handsome man despite the fact that he was more than forty years old. His invitation suggested that he was seriously considering making her an offer. One did not invite a casual acquaintance to one's home.

Melissa too looked forward to the visit. She had not taken very well with the ton thus far. She had had her fair share of partners at the two balls they had attended, and she had even been sent a few bouquets after those entertainments. But no gentleman had yet singled her out for marked attention. She was somewhat disappointed that Mr. Mainwaring had shown no inclination to renew the attachment that had seemed to be budding between them during the summer. Not that she had intended being friendly with him, but it was provoking to be denied the opportunity to set him down. If Emmy could only become betrothed to Lord Harding, she felt, her own position could only be enhanced. It was likely too that he had invited guests other than themselves to his home. Perhaps some of them would be interesting people.

Helen accepted the invitation and even showed mild enthusiasm about it in the presence of her family. But she did not want to go. She did not want to go anywhere, in fact. The depression that had been heavy on her since their arrival in London and, indeed, before that had not lifted at all. It was impossible for it to be lifted, in fact, but she supposed she had been looking for some miracle to happen. Her gloom had only deepened. How much longer would she be able to go on like this, in a state of indecision and inaction?

Try as she would, she could not shake William Mainwaring from her mind. Why, oh why, had he had to decide to come to London at the same time as they? It was impossible to avoid him, utterly painful to see him. And he made it worse by going out of his way to be close to her and speak to her.

He had wanted to explain his past behavior when they had driven together in the park. Should she have listened? It might have been interesting to hear the story he had made up. But it would have hurt beyond anything to have heard him lie on top of everything else. And there could be no real explanation of what he had done.

It would not be so hard to bear if she could only stop loving him, she thought, or if it were possible to blot out the past and begin life afresh. But neither action was possible. She had only fully admitted to herself that she still loved him after that drive together. It was no good trying to pretend she did not. She would never deceive herself. But she did not want to love him. He was guilty of behavior that she could never forgive. Had he had the courage to come to her during the summer to explain that he was going away because he could never marry a girl of a different class, she might at least respect him for honesty. But as it was, she could afford him no respect at all.

So it seemed she was doomed to love and hate William. She would not have thought it possible to feel both emotions at once, but it was. And she could not continue to see him. What if he persisted in noticing her? She would really lose her temper at some time and disgrace not only herself but also her whole family. Funny to think of disgracing them by merely losing one's temper! As it was, she had behaved very badly. She did not care about the way she had spoken to him both at the ball and in the park. But she knew she had been rude to the Hetheringtons, without any cause whatsoever except that they were his friends. William had been quite right about that. It was probably that fact that had made her so angry with him.

She even wondered if she owed an apology to the marquess and his wife. But it was hard to apologize when the offense had not been a really open one. And she did not feel like apologizing. She really did dislike them. But why? Just because they were William's friends? If she was totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that there was more to it than that. They were such an attractive couple, good-looking and vibrant with life, while she felt so dull and so lackluster, especially now. And they were so clearly happy with each other. They were not two individuals, but a couple, it seemed. She had to admit to jealousy, a burning envy. Much as she had tried to convince herself to the contrary, she would have liked a marriage like that. But it was impossible now.

She would go with Emmy and Melly to Lord Harding's house, Helen decided, but after that she would have to do something, make some decision about her future. She could not go on much longer like this. Until then she would block all her problems from her mind.

***

Lord Harding had all his guests gather at his London home so that they might travel to Richmond together. It was a beautiful day, one of those crisp days of autumn when the sun shines and the air is still and one feels that summer is heavy and lifeless in comparison. He was in a good mood. Lady Emily Wade and her two sisters had accepted his invitation; his courtship of the former was progressing quite satisfactorily. Once he had seen her in the setting of his favorite home and assured himself that she suited it, he would pay a call on her father and make arrangements for the nuptials. He had no doubt that she would accept him.

As for his other guests, all had accepted and had arrived on time for a morning start. There were his sister, Sophie Lane, and Sir Rupert Davies; young Timothy; his sister's friend, Miss Janet Ashley, and her brother, Mr. Rodney Ashley; Mr. William Mainwaring; and the Marquess and Marchioness of Hetherington. He was not closely acquainted with any of the last three, but they were apparently friends of Lady Emily's, and he wished her to feel comfortable during the outing.

William Mainwaring had guessed that Helen would be one of the party. The purpose of the visit was an open secret. If Harding were planning to make the eldest girl his bride, it stood to reason that the other two sisters would be among his guests. He was not quite sure how he felt about the situation. Since his drive in the park with Nell, he had not been at all sure that it was possible to break through the barrier she had erected between them. If he was to talk to her again, he would have much preferred a more private setting than they were likely to find during these two days.

He did not trust her, either, to confine her disapproval to him. He could have faced with some resignation the prospect of her singling him out for a public setdown. But he feared that she would again treat Robert and Elizabeth with less than good manners. Perhaps she would even go beyond that. He would have to try to avoid such a situation if he possibly could. Perhaps he could ignore her completely.

Could he do so, though? He was not sure that it was possible. He could not see her without feeling a strong attraction to her. This, despite the fact that she made no effort to look her best or to behave in a pleasing manner. Seeing her sullen, ill-mannered, and obviously unhappy made his heart ache. She had been such a vibrant yet dreamy little thing when he first knew her. She had seemed a part of the beauty and innocence of the woods around her. And the weight of responsibility was heavy on him. Had he caused the change in her?

He feared there was no doubt that he had. She had given herself to him without thought or conscious decision there in the woods. It had been an unreal atmosphere, in which she had been unable to apply the codes that her upbringing must have instilled in her. And clearly she was bitterly regretting what had happened. She felt herself ruined, no doubt, unable to throw herself wholeheartedly into the life of the ton, unable to encourage any other man. Yet she would not accept his offer. She saw him as her seducer and hated him for it. She would not marry him even for the sake of restoring respectability to her life. Dear Nell! She was high-principled, after all.

The ladies rode in two carriages, while the men rode close to them. Helen and Elizabeth had each made an effort to be in different carriages. Neither felt comfortable at the prospect of being thrown into company with the