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For the second time that night, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Ever since she had made her bow, Evie had behaved as perfectly as a well-bred young lady should. She had engaged in friendly conversation with everyone and never spoke a word out of turn. She had forced herself to be lively and charming, even when she wanted nothing more than to return home and enjoy the peace and solitude of her own company.

However, none of that mattered, for now she was making one blunder after another until she was more socially inept than the most hopeless wallflower.

All because of a man who probably never gave her as much time of the day as she dedicated to him!

“I could hardly blame you, My Lady,” Ethan sighed despondently, his voice louder than it usually was. “This ball lacks entertainment. Now, if Lady Wellington was to honor me with a turn about the dance floor, I might consider my night saved.”

Lady Wellington laughed and shook her head, teasingly chiding him for being a mischievous rascal before allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

The other gentlemen, seeing Ethan taking to the dance floor once more, renewed their vigor as well and scurried off in search of dance partners, much to the pleasure of the young ladies.

As the Duke of Sinclair cheerfully exhorted the musicians to play a lively tune once more, Evie found her gaze straying back to the man across the ballroom.

This time, Daniel was alone. His broad shoulder was leaning against a column of polished marble, a glass of claret in his hands once more. His green eyes were dark as he gazed at the twirling couples on the dance floor.

Even then, as dark and foreboding as he looked, Evie could not help the familiar heat that pooled low in her belly at the sight of him. Nor could she stop the warmth that rose from her chest up to her cheeks.

“Damn him,” she muttered softly to herself.

Damn him, indeed, and all the knots he had managed to tie her in.

CHAPTER 6

Aman must never lack for alcohol in his own residence.

In Daniel’s case, he had a liquor cabinet set up in his study, although he had never felt the need to delve into its contents as much as he did that night. The expensive vintage would now serve its purpose, if only so that he might burn away the memory of Evie flushed under the moonlight, looking up at him with limpid eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss.

He had never found a woman as wildly seductive as she was at that moment, and that, in itself, was a problem. A great one.

It was only a kiss.

He had certainly done more than that. And yet, it feltdifferentsomehow. It felt dangerous. Like he was playing with a flame that threatened to burn out of control.

And hehatedlosing control.

What the hell am I doing?

He was supposed to bewatchingher, not sampling her charms.

It had seemed a simple enough task, making sure that she stayed out of trouble long enough for him to turn her back to her brother. Who would have thought that Evie would try to cross him at every opportunity she got?

Even when she was not around, he had to deal with those damnedsuitorssniffing after her like a pack of hounds that had caught the scent of their prey. Thinking back to Sidmouth’s arrogant proclamation, he was sorely tempted to plant his fist into the bastard’s smug countenance.

He still did, actually.

He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey before tipping his head back and drinking it all. He was about to pour himself another glass when a crisp voice pierced through the relative peace of his study.

“I was not aware that you had become a lush.”

He paused, holding the bottle in midair, and scowled.

What the hell is everyone’s problem tonight? Is it Torment Daniel Stanton Night?

He turned around with a raised eyebrow to find the Dowager Duchess of Stanton looking at him, her eyes sharp. A small smile played on her lips, and he cursed himself for letting her see him in a moment of weakness.

“It is nothing.” He shrugged, affecting a picture of nonchalance. “I was just about to head off to bed, anyway.”