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talk of gaming at White’s horse auctions coming up at Tattersall’s and boxing matches scheduled at Gentleman Jackson’s gym. Besides, once they had discovered that their cousin Miranda was not about to play kiss and cuddle in the darkened library, they quickly lost interest in her.
    Thomas Dunham and his cousin, Sir Francis Dunham, stood talking earnestly by the fire. Dorothea, Lady Millicent, and the dowager Duchess of Worcester sat chatting amiably on a satin settee. Miranda glanced about, seeking Adrian’s mama, and was surprised to find the lady at her elbow. Lady Swynford was a tinyold woman with bright, shrewd eyes under a purple turban. She smiled toothily at Miranda.
    “So, my gel, your parents say they must marry you off before my son can have your sister. Have you some Yankee swain back in your America?”
    “No, ma’am,” Miranda answered politely, beginning to dread what was coming.
    “Humph!” sniffed Lady Swynford. “I foresee a long and exhausting courtship for my son.” She sighed affectedly. “Ah, how I long to dandle my grandchildren on my knee. I wonder if I shall live that long.”
    “I suspect you shall, ma’am, and even longer,” answered Miranda. “The wedding is to be next June, after all.”
    “And will you be married by then, my gel?” Lady Swynford eyed her archly.
    “Whether I am or not, ma’am, I promise you that Mandy and Adrian will be wed on schedule.”
    “You’re no milk-and-water miss, are you, my gel?”
    “No, ma’am, I am not!”
    Lady Swynford chuckled richly. “I wonder,” she said, “if they realize the woman they have in you.”
    “Ma’am?” Miranda was puzzled.
    “Nothing, child,” Lady Swynford replied in a more kindly tone, further confusing Miranda by patting her hand. “Why, I can see you don’t even know it yourself yet.”
    The Dunhams sailed for America two days later, driving down from London to Portsmouth the day after the dinner party. The horses were changed four times. They stayed overnight in Portsmouth, putting up at the Fountain, and going aboard their ship the following morning to sail on the late-morning tide. The Dunhams stood at the rail for a time watching the coast of England recede, but then they went to their adjoining cabins. Amanda, gazing at the perfect round sapphire surrounded by diamonds that Adrian had given her, had become quite teary at the realization that she was leaving her beloved. Miranda cared little, for she had not really enjoyed her stay in London, and besides, she was returning home to her own love. Wyndsong.
    The Royal George sailed south under fair skies and brisk winds. Captain Hardy declared he’d not seen such fine weatherin all his days on the Atlantic. They arrived at Barbados in record time, swept across the Caribbean to Jamaica, and up the South Atlantic to Charleston. At each port they lost passengers, gained passengers, and discharged cargo.
    Finally they arrived at New York. The ship stayed overnight unloading cargo, taking on fresh water and foodstuffs, and being loaded with cargo for England. The following morning, a bright blue and gold October Day, The Royal George sailed up the East River into the Long Island Sound. They would be home by the following day.
    Just before dawn on the day they would see Wyndsong, Miranda woke Amanda.
    “It isn’t even light yet,” protested the sleepy, smaller twin.
    “Don’t you want to see the sunrise over Orient Point?” Miranda pulled the covers away. “Get up, Mandy! Get up, or I’ll tickle you to death!”
    “I think I’m going to prefer Adrian as a bedfellow to you, sister dear,” muttered Amanda, climbing reluctantly out of her warm nest. “Ohhh! This floor is like ice! You’re absolutely heartless, Miranda!”
    Miranda raised a winged dark eyebrow in surprise as she handed Amanda her lace-trimmed, white muslin undergarments. “Prefer Adrian as a bedfellow? I am not sure if I am startled by your want of delicacy, or simply shocked,