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he scribbled out several lines and signed it with a flourish. “A promissory note for half of The Wolf’s Lair should be sufficient collateral for the funds I require.”
    “Hell’s teeth, Connor. Your word is more than good enough. I don’t need some scrap of paper,” protested Gryff. “I’ll probably only lose the damn thing when I’m in my cups.”
    “Even corned, pickled, and salted, you should be able to hang on to this.” Connor forced the pledge into his friend’s hand.
    Pulling a face, his friend stuffed it into his waistcoat. “I am not sure it is the best idea in the world to have the prospects for your future riding in my pocket.”
    “Given the scrapes you have been getting yourself into lately, I can’t say as I am enamored of the idea either,” replied Connor. “But at the moment, I am at a loss to come up with a better one.”

Chapter Two
    W as this a foolish mistake?
    Alexa could not help but ask herself again as she surveyed the crowded ballroom. Unerring in judgment when it came to matters of estate management, she felt far less sure of her decisions regarding her own life.
    Had she really imagined that a tall, aging beanpole with unruly tresses—and an even more unruly tongue—might fit in among all the carefully cultivated blooms of London?
    Brushing back an errant curl, Alexa dropped her gaze to the tips of her slippers. As the musicians struck up the first lively notes of a country gavotte, a rueful twist pulled at her mouth. She had certainly had ample time to contemplate her folly. Other than stepping out for a set with Lord Bertram and one with Mr. Hallaway—sons of Aunt Adelaide’s bosom bows—she had sat on the perimeter of the dance floor for the entire evening, half hidden between a small group of turbaned matrons and a towering arrangement of potted palms.
    The irony of her position was not lost her. It seemed that of late that she had been feeling awkward and isolated wherever she was. As the shadows of the fronds began a gentle swaying in time to the music, she wondered whether she would ever feel in step with those around her…
    “Mr. Givens is offering to fetch us some refreshments, my dear.” A discreet tap of her aunt’s fan deflected such melancholy musings. “Would you care for a glass?”
    Alexa forced a smile. “Yes. Thank you.” She had no real desire for a sip of tepid punch, but for her aunt’s sake, she wished to appear polite.
    “And wouldn’t you rather join Lady Fiona and her friends, instead of sitting here listening to the boring chatter of ancient crones?” Lady Merton’s tone was light as she waved her fan at a group of young ladies whispering together near the card room, but there was a note of concern in her voice.
    On the whole, Alexa preferred the company of her aunt and the other matrons, for at least they did not giggle incessantly while discussing the latest bits of gossip. However, she gave a small nod, reminding herself that with the time and blunt her family was spending to indulge her whim she ought to be making an effort to fit in.
    “Perhaps just for a bit, if you are sure you will not feel neglected.”
    “No, no, not at all! Evelyn and I are having a very comfortable coze, so go and enjoy yourself.” The brightening of her aunt’s countenance made Alexa feel even more guilty. “I am sure Mr. Givens would be happy to provide an escort once he returns with our drinks.”
    Dear and determined Aunt Adelaide! She did not miss any opportunity to bring her niece to the attention of an eligible young gentleman. Alexa didn’t have the heart to point out that an outspoken bluestocking of her years, no matter that she was the daughter of an earl, was not likely to attract a host of admirers.
    Now, perhaps if she possessed cherubic little cheeks and a rosebud mouth—preferably one that only opened to voice adoring compliments to any male in the vicinity…
    A sharp pinch knotted the strings of her reticule more tightly around her