Free Cupid's Choice: She's a shy beauty in distress. He's a chivalric gentleman. by Gayle Buck

with any number of personages with whom one really does not wish to converse, isn’t it?”
    Miss Holland’s eyes flew to meet his understanding gaze. Her color heightened, she said with the slightest of smiles, “How did you guess, sir?”
    “Oh, but I am a well-traveled diplomat. I quite understand the drawbacks of an evening spent in company when what one really wishes is to be with one’s closest family or friends,” said Sir Frederick flippantly.
    “Sir Frederick has characterized you perfectly, Guin!” said Lord Holybrooke, laughing.
    “Indeed he has,” said Miss Holland, also laughing. She glanced across at Sir Frederick and the previous tension that he had discerned in her expression was gone.
    “I trust that I may be considered one of your friends, Miss Holland,” said Sir Frederick with a quick disarming smile. “I should not like to think that I am to be lumped together with all the rest!”
    “I should like that, Sir Frederick,” said Miss Holland with a rising blush.
    Sir Frederick considered that he had played the gallant enough. It was his intention to draw the young lady out of herself, not to cause her to develop a tendre for him. He casually changed the direction of the conversation into safer channels, and Lord Holybrooke quickly followed his lead.
    Though Miss Holland did not converse as readily or as easily as Lord Holybrooke, she did not neglect to put in a word here and there. Her former stiff manner had vanished. She seemed quite comfortable as they rode leisurely through the park. Sir Frederick took note that she never stammered nor betrayed more than the normal hesitancy that a shy young lady might feel when engaging in conversation with a new acquaintance. His curiosity was even more piqued by this girl who possessed such a contradictory manner.
    Just then, Miss Holland turned her head to reply laughingly to something her brother had said, offering Sir Frederick an opportunity to study her. Her lovely face was lit by animation, and her deep blue eyes glowed with liveliness. She had a touch of rose in her cheeks that could not all be attributed to the sedate equestrian exercise. Miss Holland was an undoubted beauty, he acknowledged to himself. She appeared to be altogether a different young woman than the timid mouse he had met the evening before.
    Sir Frederick wondered whether Lady Smythe’s notion of turning Miss Holland into the toast of the town could actually be done. From that idle thought, it was an easy step to feel the unexpressed hope that he could watch it happen.
    When he actually made the decision to aid and abet Lady Smythe he could never afterward recall, but by the time he had parted company with Lord Holybrooke and Miss Holland at the gates of the park, Sir Frederick had decided he would pay a call on that redoubtable old lady.
    Mr. Duckworth was gone when Sir Frederick returned to his lodgings, which was just as well because his friend would have demanded to know why he was changing his raiment to that of a Bond Street beau. However, Sir Frederick knew just what was due to an elderly lady. When he sauntered forth again he was attired with all modishness in a blue superfine frock coat, a lightly colored waistcoat and biscuit-colored pantaloons. His Hessian boots were polished to mirror-brightness and he carried an elegant cane.
    It occurred to him that he would not ingratiate himself by calling too early on an elderly lady who had spent the night hostessing a ball. Sir Frederick’s facile mind instantly suggested an alternative. He changed his direction and walked around to the Richardsons ’ town house.
    He was fortunate enough to catch Mrs. Richardson just as she was coming out of her front door. Her carriage was waiting at the curb, and the coachman stood ready to hand Mrs. Richardson into it. With a comprehensive glance at the carriage, Sir Frederick realized that Mrs. Richardson was on her way to run some errands or to make her social calls. Otherwise she would