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choose, rather than marry at his bidding. ”
    “Y es, sir. That is my hope. ”
    Lord Stokesdown seemed ready to turn the subject, but suddenly he paused, an arrested expression seizing his features. “B allymere, ” he muttered again. “G ood God. Never tell me —” He halted in mid-sentence and bent a piercing look upon his secretary. “I hope you haven ’ t formed a tendre for Cynthia Fitzwilliam. If you have, heaven help you. ”
    Derek felt a frisson of alarm . “H ow so, sir? ”
    “T hen you have? ” Lord Stokesdown gave a queer sort of groan. “D evil take the boy! He ’ s fallen for the Frost Fair. ” He shook his head mournfully. “Y ou ’ ll never win her, lad. She ’ s the coldest wench in England. ” He must have seen the affronted astonishment crossing Derek ’ s face, for he hastily added, “I f the reports are true, that is. I ’ m not acquainted with her. ”
    “W ell, I am, my lord, ” said Derek stiffly. “A little. And — did you say something about a Frost Fair? What is that supposed to mean, if you please? ”
    Lord Stokesdown coughed. “Y ou haven ’ t heard that? Well. No wonder. It ’ s a pity you haven ’ t, for it might have given you warning. ” His expression was not unkind, but his brows were knitted with concern. “D on ’ t know who started it, my boy, but that ’ s what everyone calls her. ”
    Derek began to feel genuinely angry. “I should like to know why anyone would call her that, my lord. It seems unjust. ”
    “W ell, well, don ’ t poker up. The wags always bestow nicknames on the latest beauties, you know. Sometimes they stick, and sometimes they don ’ t. ” He studied Derek, the concern in his sharp eyes deepening. “T his one stuck, ” he added gruffly. “S o I warn you, Derek. The soubriquet may sound silly to you — most of ‘ em are silly — but it would not have caught fire, had it not seemed apt to a great many people. ”
    An explanation suddenly occurred to Derek. Relief shot through him. “P erhaps the nickname refers to her appearance, ” he suggested. “H er coloring is extremely fair. ”
    “W ell, I daresay that ’ s part of it. For your sake, I will hope it ’ s the largest part, ” said his lordship, still frowning. “B ut that ’ s not what one hears. I ’ ll go to this absurd ball, and I ’ ll take you with me. But I ’ ll be candid with you, lad — I ’ m hoping you meet a lady who will drive the Frost Fair from your thoughts. I ’ m a busy man, and I can ’ t afford to have my secretary driven into a decline. ”
    Derek laughed out loud. “N o fear of that, sir. Is that her reputation? That she drives healthy young men into declines? ”
    But Lord Stokesdown did not join Derek ’ s laughter. “I t is, ” he said grimly. “S o guard your heart, boy. Now, what about that letter to Sheringham? Do I sign it or not? ” And he briskly returned to business.
    Derek dressed for the embassy ball with greater care than he had ever dressed for anything, feeling grateful that the prevailing mode did not require men to deck themselves with jewels, lace , or fabrics threaded with gold. Fifteen years ago, he could never have afforded this masquerade. Tonight, however, he looked every inch the gentleman and would be dressed as gorgeously as any man present; beautifully cut broadcloth and clean linen were the order of the day. A waistcoat turned out in a modest, but elegant, brocade was as far as he need go to flaunt his supposed social standing.
    He stared hard at the mirror when he was done, then gave a wry nod. “I t will do, ” he muttered.
    He looked prosperous enough to pass as Lord Stokesdown ’ s son… to those who did not know his lordship ’ s family. Was that cheating? He hardly knew. After all, he didn ’ t intend to lie about his prospects. The Polite World was full of purse-pinched gentlemen, many of whom had little more than Derek had. “A ll policy ’ s fair in love and war, ” he reminded