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Ripton was the picture of sartorial perfection. It had to be allowed he was quite the best dressed man present and no doubt the handsomest one. His blond hair, which he had in great abundance, was brushed away from his forehead, and he was the possessor of the bluest eyes Elizabeth had ever seen in anyone besides her cousin. Ripton Rutherford was Nicholas's best friend, and on that account alone Elizabeth was prepared to like him.
    When the meal was announced, it was Frederick Smithwayne who took Elizabeth to the table. "Goodness, you're tall!" he exclaimed when she stood beside him, eyes level with the top of his head.
    "I'm sorry." She shrugged. Her aunt's prophecy was coming painfully true.
    "Nothing to be sorry for. It isn't your fault. Mr. Rutherford"—Frederick nodded at him— "ought to have been the one to take you in. He's tall enough for you."
    Elizabeth was not surprised when Frederick turned his attention to Amelia after he had shown her safely to her seat. She sighed, looked down at the table, and was pleasantly surprised to learn the dreadful years spent at Miss Langford's School had at last proven not to have been a complete waste of time. She knew what to do with every utensil in front of her.
    Sir Jaspar sat to Mr. Villines's left, and as the first course was brought in Mr. Villines signaled to the butler that the dishes should first be presented to Sir Jaspar, who seemed to relish slowly uncovering them as each arrived. He took a small bite of each, chewed reflectively, and, since the Villineses's cook was French, nodded to indicate he should be given a larger portion. By the time the food was on Elizabeth's plate, it was considerably cooler than it had been when Sir Jasper sampled it. Not until one of the soup courses did the baronet finally begin to talk about something besides the food.
    "Lady Charles and I have just returned from a tour of Europe," he said. "And I must say, I am glad to be back in England."
    To hear him tell it, the whole of the Continent was nothing but inadequate service and dunderheads who would not understand the queen's English.
    After all of Mrs. Willard's exclamations about the consequences of meeting someone with a title, the baronet was a decided disappointment. Even considering the man in the best possible light, Elizabeth was convinced boredom was the most likely consequence of meeting Sir Jaspar Charles. It was hard to understand why an elegant woman like Lady Charles had married him.
    Lady Charles smiled indulgently when Sir Jaspar began telling of their adventure during a tour of a winery somewhere in France. He had very nearly been attacked by a rat the size of which was beyond description in mixed company. "Put me off French wines for nearly a week!" he marveled.
    It was, all in all, a well-balanced group. Jane Smithwayne was almost as quiet as Elizabeth, speaking mostly to her brother and once or twice with Mr. Latchley. Though she did not often join in the conversation, she listened earnestly, a habit Elizabeth found flattering and soon resolved to cultivate herself.
    As the meal progressed, Elizabeth kept a careful eye on Mr. Rutherford. Besides impressing Amelia, his aim seemed to be to infuriate Mr. Beaufort Latchley—probably because Mr. Latchley seemed equally intent on attracting Amelia's notice.
    It was sometime between the vegetables and a mutton that managed to reach Elizabeth before it was cold that Mrs. Smithwayne took advantage of a brief silence to bring up her favorite subject. "A solid foundation in religion would prevent poverty, I am convinced of it," she said. "A true Christian is never poor. Parents who refuse to instruct their children in the proper moral grounds are truly the greatest evil in the world."
    "My dear woman," drawled Ripton Rutherford, "the greatest evil in this world is a valet who takes an hour to properly tie one's cravat."
    Mr. Latchley snorted and scornfully lifted the corner of his mouth.
    "Mr. Latchley—" Ripton glanced in his