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rode astride. He held a hand out to her and she grabbed hold. He hefted her at the same time she jumped, and she landed behind him.
    With no urging, she snuggled against him and slid both arms around his middle.

Chapter 5
    Alex always looked forward to Aunt Cornelia’s visits. Being a lady of English nobility, Cornelia accepted her brother’s American ways, but the one thing she insisted on while residing in James’ American home was her usual habit of afternoon tea. Mama, most happy to acquiesce her husband’s sister’s wishes, set forth a light repast of tea and crisp little cakes, which became a daily occurrence.
    On this very afternoon, unaware of the duke’s arrival, Cornelia and Mama settled in the parlor for their tea. While Papa greeted the duke, Alex hurried upstairs and dressed in a gown more becoming of a female. As she descended the stairs, she met a kitchen maid with a steaming pot and a tray of freshly baked biscuits.
    Cornelia glanced up as Alex’s blue taffeta skirts rustled through the doorway.
    “Alexandria,” she cooed. “You look lovely, my dear.”
    Alex traipsed across the room and plopped in the chair directly across from her aunt.
    “We will need to work on that.”
    “On what?”
    “Harrumph. Every tongue in London would be wagging if you walked about like a man intent on—”
    “Dearest, please,” Mama interrupted. “I think Alex hears more than she should on the matter of society and English ways. She isn’t familiar with certain . . . particulars.”
    Cornelia patted her strawberry blond tresses streaked with grey. Mama poured tea from the steaming pot. Then tasted one of the tiny cakes. Alex could pick up three or four with one hand. She grabbed a biscuit and stuffed the thing into her mouth.
    Alex watched as Cornelia picked up a delicate china cup. Immediately her aunt’s smallest finger lifted into the air as if aiming an arrow.
    Guess all the ladies in London drink their tea with such gestures.
    Being well versed in etiquette and proper decorum, Cornelia regaled stories from England. Alex hung on every word, seeing the glittering city of London and the fashionable aristocracy through her aunt’s eyes. Cornelia divulged a buzzing tale of a nobleman hosting a ball presenting his daughter into society.
    “Of course I gave her mama the name of my modiste to design the girl’s coming out gowns. The poor chit had to tie her stays so tight, she had no bosom to speak of.”
    Not so of Aunt Cornelia. Her breasts were so big, Alex would be jealous if she weren’t afraid she’d tip over from the added weight.
    “Even so,” her aunt continued, “she had a lot of admirers. Dandies had their sights set on a prize. After all, her papa was a marquis.”
    Which must be someone very important, as on earlier visits her aunt had explained the lineage of the aristocracy. And Alex knew a duke was well up in the social standing on the elitist hierarchy. But how could she introduce a particular duke into their conversation?
    “What’s a dandy?” Alex asked.
    “A gallant man who places particular importance upon his physical appearance, and considerable emphasis on his image. Giving airs, self-import. His demeanor suggests refined language, and leisurely hobbies, often imitating an aristocratic lifestyle despite coming from a middle-class background. Really, he is no more than a clothes-wearing man.”
    “Don’t all men wear clothes?”
    “Alex, dear girl.” Cornelia placed her tea cup on the saucer with a dainty click. “Picture in your mind a peacock strutting about the yard with his colorful tail-feathers spread wide. That is a Dandy.”
    The men she knew only dressed in their Sunday finest when going to church or some special event. Even Papa wore what he called his work clothes every other day, mostly brown, and plenty dirty by suppertime. She couldn’t imagine her brothers in anything resembling ‘Dandy clothes.’ As for strutting? Sam strode around in front of girls like a