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him just now
    when she held out her probably nonsweaty hand to him. Did Pen recall how awful he had been as a
    boy?
    She had laughed when Persy had told her about their bookish conversation in the Folly, and said
    she’d been glad she’d had the headache. Persy never told her about their subsequent discussions, and
    Pen had continued to make herself as unobtrusive as possible whenever he came to visit.
    She hadn’t today.
    How did Pen do it? Their interactions with young men had been limited to the few neighborhood
    parties that Mama had let them attend. Pen had claimed to find them as excruciating as Persy had. But
    she had been perfectly natural and gracious with Lochinvar just now.
    “Well, we have known him forever,” Persy could almost hear her say.
    But they hadn’t. He wasn’t the awful boy they had once known, but a grown man … a very
    handsome grown man—
    “Ow, don’t hug too hard!” Charles protested.
    “I’m sorry.” Persy yanked her attention back to the present.
    “Do you think Papa will let me travel on the continent someday, like Loch—Lord Seton?” Charles
    asked as they walked down the gallery to the green salon.
    “If it means you turn out like him, I don’t see why not.”
    Charles looked up in surprise. “How do you know how he’s turned out?”
    “Oh,” Persy floundered. “Well, he’s picked up a lot of polish on his travels, don’t you think? He
    looks very well.”
    “But he’s always looked—ooh, Persy thinks he’s handsome!” Charles grinned up at her and danced
    away, his voice rising. “Persy thinks he’s—”
    “Quiet, brat, or I’ll tell Mama you slid down the banister just now!” Persy lunged for him. “And
    I’ll find a spell to make your good arm itchy all the time, and you won’t be able to scratch it with your
    hurt one.”
    To Persy’s relief they’d reached a truce by the time they came to the green salon’s door. She gave
    him one last warning glance as they entered.
    “There she is!” boomed the Earl of Northgalis. “How’s my Persephone?”
    Persy hurried over to make proper greeting to him, but he scooped her into a hug, then held her at
    arm’s length to scrutinize her from under his bushy brows.
    “Just as pretty as her sister,” he proclaimed. “Or is it that her sister is as pretty as she? No matter.
    Haven’t they grown into a handsome pair, Lochinvar?”
    “There was never any doubt they would, sir, as they resemble their mother so nearly,” replied
    Lochinvar, seated next to Pen on the other sofa by the tea table.
    “Listen to him!” said Mama with a pleased chuckle. “He’ll have the London girls eating out of his
    hand.” She began to turn back to Lord Northgalis, then paused. “Goodness, Persy, sit down and stop
    looking so forlorn. Charles, you really ought—”
    “I’ll go back to bed later, I promise!” Charles sat himself down on a chair and gripped its arm with
    his good hand as if fearful of being dragged away.
    Persy turned away from Charles’s wheedling. Pen and Lochinvar— Lord Seton , she reminded
    herself—took up most of the sofa, so she sat on one of the tiny gilt bamboo chairs that Grandmama
    had bought after a visit to the Brighton Pavilion, and prayed she wouldn’t fall off it.
    “Won’t you tell us a little about your travels, Lord Seton—” Pen began.
    He interrupted her. “If you call me that again, I shall either laugh or refuse to answer you, as we’ve
    known each other since before we could even pronounce each other’s names properly. I’m Lochinvar,
    Miss Leland.”
    Pen colored slightly. The pink flush made her eyes seem even bluer. Persy was sure that if she
    were sitting where Pen was, she’d be positively gibbering.
    “Lochinvar,” Pen agreed, and smiled down at her hands. “Now, tell us about your tour. What cities
    did you visit? We want to hear everything!”
    3
    F our days after the Setons’ unexpected visit to Mage’s Tutterow, Melusine Allardyce walked