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genuinely forgotten to dine? Charles tried, but simply could not recall, and was forced to ask cautiously of Denham, “Have I?”
    “No, Your Grace, which I told Her Grace. She was quite pleased to hear it.”
    “Oh, good.” He sighed relievedly. “Well, thank you, Denham.”
    The butler bowed and turned to leave, but Charles called him back. “Denham, did my mother take her leave from her morning room?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Why, then, did she not inquire of me as she passed by?”
    “I wouldn’t know, Your Grace, other than Her Grace was in something of a hurry. She has been at sixes and sevens since she misplaced her engagement book.”
    How odd. Charles had never known his mother to mislay so much as a hairbrush. “Do you know her direction?”
    “Not precisely, Your Grace. Nor did Her Grace, though she believed she had an appointment with her modiste.”
    Stranger still, thought Charles.
    That evening, when he entered the dining room for supper, there was only one place set at the head of the elegantly appointed table and only Denham waiting to attend him.
    “My mother?” he inquired.
    “Her Grace is dining with Lord and Lady Hampton, Your Grace.”
    Charles blinked at him. “Who?”
    “The Lady Amanda’s parents, Your Grace.”
    “Oh, the Gilbertsons, of course. Wedding plans, I assume.”
    “I believe so, Your Grace.”
    Charles sat down and sighed. He was used to dining alone, for he always did at the hail (unless some member of the family was in residence), but in town he was used to company. He thought briefly of calling for his carriage and taking supper at his club, but decided that would be stretching temptation to its limits. Instead he sent Denham to the library for the book he’d been reading, and with it propped open against the candelabra in front of him, felt somewhat less abandoned.
    His spirits lifted further, when, on his way back to the library, he encountered his youngest brother, Teddy, dashing down the main staircase into the marble-floored foyer.
    “Halfling!” Charles called happily. “There you are!”
    “There I was,” Teddy returned, grinning and tugging on his coat as he downed the last few steps, “for I’m late to the Parkinsons’ ball honoring Lesley and Amanda.”
    “Are you?” Charles asked mildly, noting his black evening dress and the flush in his cheeks. “Mother will be joining you there after the theater, I trust.”
    “Why, yes,” Teddy replied cheerfully, turning toward a gilt-framed mirror hung near the door to fluff his cravat.
    “Ted-dy.” Charles made two pointed syllables of his name. “Mother is dining with the Gilbertsons.”
    The boy cringed guiltily in the glass, but recovered almost instantly and heeled about to face Charles. “Are you quite sure? Her engagement book has gone missing, you know.”
    “I have it straight from Denham.” Charles crossed his arms and glowered. “And while we re on it, you little scamp, what do you know about the disappearance of Mother’s engagement book?”
    “Nothing, I swear,” Teddy declared, innocently flattening one palm against his chest.
    “I know you too well, halfling.” Charles cocked a dubious brow. “It’s obvious you’re up to your shirt-points in mischief, and it occurs to me how much easier it would be for you if Mother hasn’t a clue where she is—let alone where you are supposed to be. Which, I believe, is upstairs studying your Latin.”
    “Have a heart, Chas,” Teddy begged, looking woebegone. “She will be there this evening. So will Smithers and Forbes—and if I am not they’ll steal a march on me.”
    “She?” Charles’s eyebrow notched further.
    “Yes.” Teddy sighed. “The goddess Aphrodite.”
    More likely a fresh-from-the-schoolroom miss with overlarge blue eyes. The Parkinsons, Charles seemed to recall from his mother’s prattling about marriageable females, had two (or was it three?) daughters.
    He also seemed to recollect that blue eyes were all