"It has been my distinct impression," Josie said, "that Imogen has demanded that Mayne prove his reputation as a Lothario is not exaggerated."

Imogen's scowl should have silenced Josie on the spot.

"And I regret to report," Josie continued, apparently unruffled by her sister's fiercest glare, "that to all appearances Mayne has refused the challenge and kept his virtue intact."

"How surprising," Annabel exclaimed, pushing herself up on the pillows and looking altogether more awake. "I was under the impression that he had no virtue."

"To the contrary," Josie said. "No matter how Imogen batted her eyelashes at him during the trip to Scotland, he kept to his own bedchamber."

"Josie," Annabel said. "You should not speak of bedchambers—no, or even contemplate such behavior. You sound positively hurly-burly. It would be disastrous for your marriage prospects if anyone heard you talking in this fashion."

"Don't be a goose, Annabel," Josie said unrepen-tantly. "It's not as if I intend to imitate that behavior. I know the difference between what's allowed a widow and an unmarried girl."

The color was rising in Imogen's cheeks under Annabel's interested gaze.

"I suppose the crucial point is not the position for which you considered Mayne," Annabel said to her, "but the position he has agreed to take."

"There's the rub," Josie said. "He managed to get all the way to Scotland with the unblemished virtue of a—a debutante."

Imogen threw a petticoat over her head but Josie just talked right through the frail lace. "There she was, batting her eyelashes, as I said—"

"I never bat my eyelashes!" Imogen put in.

"She batted them," Josie repeated, "and spent a great deal of time trying to convince Mayne that she was besotted with his dark eyes."

Imogen threw a whole heap of petticoats on top of her little sister. "Hurly-burly is too good a phrase for you."

Annabel was clearly fascinated. "Mayne is very handsome. I can certainly sympathize with the impulse."

"No, I—"

"I never said she was truly struck by his eyes," Josie said from under a heap of linens.

"Yes, you did—"

"No." Josie pulled the cloth off her head. "To call a spade a spade, Imogen, you may have tried to turn the earl into your cher ami. But you never, ever looked at him with that besotted expression with which you used to watch Draven." She turned to Annabel. "So I would deduce that Imogen was not entranced by his eyes. Perhaps by an arm, a leg, or some other… part of his anatomy?"

Annabel frowned at her. "Josie, you wanted advice about the marriage market; I have a serious piece of counsel. Do not indicate that you have the slightest notion what a cher ami is. And never make a joke about parts of the male anatomy that you do not feel comfortable naming."

"I have no reluctance to name—" Josie began readily, but Annabel cut her off.

"That's enough! I don't wish for any anatomy lessons from you."

"If Imogen wishes to forgo a life of celibacy, am I supposed to ignore her behavior?" Josie said plaintively. "It's not as if people ignored the fact that Mayne took up with the sister of a woman he jilted. You do remember that he jilted our eldest sister at the altar, don't you? Mayne's reputation was ruined the first time he danced with Imogen, given his behavior last year toward Tess."

"Nonsense," Imogen said, finally breaking into the conversation. "Mayne hasn't had a reputation in years. I had nothing to do with it. Any reputation he had left was shattered by his ill-mannered act of jilting Tess in the first place."

"I suppose your disrespectful tone reflects pique," Josie said. "It must be highly annoying to be refused by a man who has so generously spread his attentions around the ton."

"Mayne is an idler, and I have no wish to engage in any sort of intimacies with him."

"Excellent," Josie said heartily. "I shall follow your lead and thoroughly dislike all gentlemen who don't instantly succumb to my charms. Of course, given my girth, I just ruled out most of the available gentlemen in London."

"You are an extremely annoying person," Imogen said. "That alone may keep you unmarried."

"Could we return to that particular challenge for a moment?" Josie asked. "I am serious: I need to know how to attain a proposal of marriage, preferably within a few weeks of the season opening."

Annabel shook her head. "None of us has married in a conventional fashion, Josie. Tess married Felton only after Mayne jilted her. I married Ewan because I had to after that scandal broke."

"I eloped with Draven, but I did choose him in the normal way," Imogen said, "and Lord knows that didn't work out very well."

"It would have, if Draven had lived," Annabel pointed out. "You can hardly blame his death on your elopement."

"It's very annoying," Josie muttered. "How am I to do this? How am I to find a husband?"

"I'll be there," Imogen said consolingly. "And Griselda has already agreed to be your chaperone. You know that she knows all the ins and outs of the ton."

"She told me that her father arranged her marriage," Josie said, looking uncharacteristically helpless. "We don't have a father."

"We have Rafe," Annabel said.

Imogen shrugged. "When he's sober."

"You're just cross because he didn't like it when you took up with Mayne," Josie said.

"Rafe doesn't seem to understand that my marriage freed him from the need to act as my guardian."

"But you were only married a few weeks, Annabel said gently. " I can see why Rafe still feels responsible for your welfare."

"I have agreed to return to his house, haven't I? I had planned to set up my own establishment, but instead I'll be living with Rafe and trundling around with Griselda as my chaperone. I'm a widow. Why do I need a chaperone?"

"You seem to have left me out of that delectable picture," Josie said. "So, on that note, Annabel, would you consider allowing me to stay with you for the winter? Apparently, dancing is the only practical skill I need to polish before next spring, and I'm sure there must be a tutor somewhere in Scotland. It's so lovely to be back in the Highlands; I loathe the thought of returning to the south."

"Winter is coming," Imogen pointed out.

"I would love to have you stay with me, Josie," Annabel said.

"Will you be quite all right if I don't join you?" Imogen asked. "I doubt very much that Griselda would like to winter in the Highlands."

Annabel had snuggled back down in the covers. "Of course I will be. I'm married." There was a little smile in her eyes.

"I thought you might be nervous about the babe," Imogen said.

Josie gaped, and Annabel sat upright again. "How did you know?"

Imogen laughed. "For goodness sake, Annabel, you generally retire to bed for two days when your flux ap-pears. We've been here since the end of May, and now it's August. You've spent no time whatsoever groaning about the unfairness of a female's condition. In fact, you look utterly pleased to be female."