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Her lips quivered in a smile. “No.” Never that.

He lifted a hand between them and traced the pad of his thumb along her lower lip.

Her mouth parted, and a sigh slipped out as her body leaned reflexively toward him and his touch, and that was the power of Andrew, this ability to blot out all noise and darkness so that it was just she and him in the moment.

“Waters, mind if we join you?”

They jumped apart, looking up.

Lord Landon and the Duke of Rothesby stared back with knowing amusement, and the brief, shared connection with Andrew was effectively severed.

“Cards with a single partner is hardly more enjoyable than four.” Landon winked and helped himself to a vacant chair.

“Unless that single partner is an intriguing, beautiful woman,” His Grace murmured, passing an assessing stare over Marcia that sent heat rushing to her cheeks. “In which case, I’m hard-pressed to stay away.” He dropped a bow. “It is so very good to see you again, Lady Dorothy.”

Marcia returned that greeting, managing a smile. “Evan.”

Andrew frowned. “That won’t be…”

Landon had already helped himself to the deck and began shuffling.

She wanted to be alone with Andrew, even in this place where they were surrounded by as many people as could be crammed into the most attended ball of the Season.

But his friends did, however, make for good company, and between their light bantering and Landon repeatedly refilling her glass with champagne, it should have been easy for her to forget the contemptible figure seated at that table across the way, watching them.

Watching her.

And yet, her mind proved unrelenting, painting images and scenes she didn’t want, of her mother crying out and fighting Lord Atbrooke as he forced himself upon her. As he sealed her fate and stole her innocence.

“Your turn, love,” Andrew was saying, and unthinking, her movements rote, Marcia tossed down a card.

Whatever card she’d slapped down earned good-natured ribbing and laughter from her card partners. It was as though she were underwater, and the sounds of that revelry were muffled.

Atbrooke picked up his glass and toasted her before downing the contents in a smooth swallow, his smile smug, knowing.

It was the same smile he’d worn when he’d arrived at her Aunt Dorothy’s home all those years ago, when Marcia had been innocent and unsuspecting and had seen a smile as nothing more than a smile and failed to note the ugliness contained within that quirk of his lips.

But she saw it now.

And she knew everything, and there was no escaping that knowing, no matter how much she might wish to.

Suddenly, it was too much.

Marcia exploded to her feet, overturning her chair.

“Mar—love?” Andrew’s concerned voice came as if from far away, and she was incapable of responding, incapable of seeing him.

Marcia bolted.

Chapter 12

She’d…fled.

Andrew froze for a moment, staring after Marcia’s rapidly fleeing frame.

Nay, she’d not only fled… she’d gone off on her own.

With a curse, he exploded to his feet.