She lived in England as a countess and he lived . . . as he pleased. Sophia smiled. It was precisely the way to live, wasn’t it? “Good evening, Lord George,” Lady Lanreath said. “It is al ways a pleasure to see you.” Always? Was something afoot between George Blakesley and Antoi nette? It would show such good judgment on Antoinette’s part if there were. George was quite a remarkable-looking man, and from such a lovely family, too. The gentlemen bowed, the ladies discreetly looked them over, and then all eyes turned toward Miss Prestwick, which did not appear to alarm her in the least. Such a clever, resourceful girl. Now, if she would only say the right thing to get things moving along in the proper direction. If any young woman was up to the challenge, it was certainly Penelope Prestwick. “Lord Iveston,” Penelope said, gazing at him with her composure intact, “we were just discussing, improperly or not, the wager that has appeared on White’s book.
