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Her brow furrowed briefly, the corners of her mouth tipping down into a frown in turn, and he felt a foolish pang of regret for phrasing himself so bluntly.

“You’re not asking me to dance, are you?” she inquired, sounding faintly horrified by the idea.

He no longer felt bad for his bluntness.

He scowled, too. “I am not,” he confirmed. “I was merely hoping that we might have a word.” He glanced towards a nearby older gentleman who was clearly eavesdropping. “Privately, if you don’t mind.”

This was likely foolish, too. He wanted to make amends with the young lady, not make it seem like he was some sort of wastrel who lured young women out of ballrooms. When Miss Rutley narrowed her eyes, he assumed she was considering all the waysto tell him no, she would not, and he was also never to see her sister again as he was an appalling rake who had no place in polite society.

To his utter shock, however, her expression evened out, and she gave a lazy shrug with one shoulder.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Let’s go, then.”

Emily was curious. That was theonlyreason she’d agreed to this foolishness.

And yes, she had better sense than this. She did! She had spentyearsfollowing every last rule of propriety so that she could stand in as a respectable chaperone for her sisters—even as an unmarried spinster. People who followed every rule of propriety didnotgo skulking about with tall, broody gentlemen who were very clearly up to no good.

Yes, she thought triumphantly to herself as she followed the Earl away from the noisy throng of the ballroom. It wasn’t merely her curiosity that led her to follow him down a dimly lit hallway; it was herduty. It was her duty as a chaperone and elder sister to find out what devilment the Earl of Moore was up to…

…and then use it against him to make him drop his suit of Amanda.

Indeed, her actions were practicallysensibleif she thought about it that way.

As a result, Emily was feeling rather smug when the Earl beckoned her into a quiet corner, apparently his destination of choice.

“Thisis where you wanted to go?” she asked doubtfully.

That ferocious scowl took over the Earl’s face. “And what’s wrong with it?” he snapped. “I said I wanted to speak with you privately, and this is private. Without,” he added with a note of triumph that Emily felt was entirely unwarranted, “putting us behind scandalously closed doors.”

She made a great show of looking around. “You really thinkthisdoes not count as scandalous?” She made an incredulous sound in the back of her throat. “It is a good thing you were not born a lady, Sir. You’d have been ruined in an instant.”

A look of horror passed over his face. “Good Lord. You don’t think?—”

She rolled her eyes as he broke off. She might have been less irritated if she believed for an instant that he was worried aboutherreputation instead of his own.

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off. “I’m a spinster. Nobody cares what a spinster does. Now, would you stop being so precious and tell me what you wanted to say?”

“Precious? I’m not being prec—” the Earl cut himself off, looking as though it took physical effort to do so. He took in a deep, slow breath and rearranged his features into neutrality. When he spoke again, his voice was calm. “Miss Rutley, I would like it very much if we could put our differences behind us.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Wh—.” His placid expression flickered but remained in place. He took another breath, this one slower than the last. “Because…” he said, and there was a definite note of strain in his voice. Emilytriednot to find this amusing. “…I would like to court a lady in a peaceful, civilized manner without having to constantly fight her guard dog. Which I mean with the utmost respect,” he added hastily—and unconvincingly.

Emily looked him up and down. He really was sotall. It was unseemly to be that tall. She’d heard a thousand barbs about her own height—had those people never seen the Earl of Moore? He was so tall it seemed inhuman. Perhaps his ancestors were part bear. It would explain his surly attitude at least.

“I take it,” she said carefully, “that the lady in question is my sister, Amanda?”

“Yes,” he said on a sigh, looking relieved.

“Oh,” she said. “No.”

The relief vanished in an instant. “No?” he demanded incredulously. “What do you meanno?”

It would be improper for Emily to admit that she was enjoying baiting the Earl, so she decided not to admit it, not even to herself.

“I meanno,” she explained patiently. “It’s a very simple word. It means that I do not agree to your terms.”

“But—” he sputtered, and the baffled look on his face almost softened him enough to make him endearing. “But—butwhy? All I am asking is for a modicum of civility so that I might peacefully court your sister—which is, I might add, the whole reason we all submit ourselves to the circus that is the marriage mart!”