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“It’s the entire ballroom,” Cassandra said excitedly. “Meaning that part over there is the gentlemen’s side. The forbidden realm.” She added the last in a dark, playful tone as she set the bucket on the floor and twirled about. Her skirt brushed the bucket.

“Careful you don’t knock it over, or we really will have to clean.”

Cassandra laughed. “We wouldn’t want that. I haven’t the slightest notion.”

Fiona did. She could scrub the floor and beat the carpets. She could even clean out the hearth, though that was her least favorite job.

“Come, we have to look.” Cassandra was already striding toward the doors to the other side of the ballroom.

Dropping the cleaning rags near the bucket, Fiona hurried to join Cassandra.

The ballroom looked precisely the same on the men’s side—tall windows that looked out to the garden, a gleaming oak floor, elegant chandeliers, and several mirrors on the wall opposite the windows which made the already large room seem even more grand.

Cassandra stood in the center of the floor with her hands on her hips, her gaze flitting about.

“I’d like to know how wealthy my brother is.

This was not an inexpensive endeavor. I realize we haven’t seen everything, but so far every room is impeccably designed and beautifully decorated, just as he described.

My father would never have given him money for this.

He loathes the very idea of the club’s existence.

” Cassandra turned toward her. “I am beginning to think it’s quite possible my brother is not the sole owner. ”

“It would seem to support your aunt not being invited, though I suppose that could just be owing to the Star Chamber.”

“Perhaps, but my brother is most persuasive. Whatever the cause, membership is evidently not entirely up to him.”

Fiona was especially glad they’d executed their plan since it truly seemed they would not be able to attend the assemblies. “It’s good that we came today. This will likely be our only entrée into the Phoenix Club.”

“Until we are wed and duly invited.” Cassandra’s eyes darkened. “If my brother doesn’t ensure I receive an invitation to join the club, I will sever ties completely. Won’t that delight my father?” she added with a laugh that carried no humor.

Fiona thought of what Cassandra had just said a few minutes earlier about her father, as well as all the other times she’d mentioned his coldness. “Cassandra, if you ever?—”

Cassandra lifted her finger to her lips. “Shh. Did you hear that?” she whispered, looking toward a closed pair of doors leading from the ballroom.

Without waiting for Fiona to answer, Cassandra grasped her by the hand and pulled her toward a wide archway cloaked with a thick curtain. She released Fiona and slowly parted the drape. “Stair hall.” Inclining her head for Fiona to follow, she held the curtain until Fiona passed through.

Standing in the stair hall, they could see directly into the entry where a footman stood near the door. He didn’t see them, but if he pivoted…

“Upstairs!” Cassandra whispered urgently, dashing for the stairs. Fiona bolted after her. As they climbed, she muttered, “So close to seeing the bacchanalia portrait.”

At the top of the stairs, they arrived at a landing. Across from them was a closed door.

Another voice, this one quite deep, prompted Fiona’s heart to pound. Thinking they should have left after encountering the housekeeper or that they should not have come at all, she darted to the right.

In front of her was a door to the outside—presumably to a terrace since they were on the first floor. Before she could contemplate her next move, a door to her right opened and out stepped a gentleman.

Not just any gentleman. Her guardian.

Eyes wide, she stared at him, speechless.

His eyes reflected her keen shock. “Ah, I have a task for you,” he said, grabbing her arm and steering her away from the door into a room that stretched along the back of the building.

Fiona turned her head to determine what had become of Cassandra but didn’t see her. She did, however, observe a group of men—and a few women—departing the room Overton had just left.

“Turn around,” he whispered with dark urgency. “And don’t look back. If anyone recognizes you?—”

She heard his teeth clack as he snapped his mouth closed. He dug his fingers into her arm, then dragged her out to the terrace and closed the door.

Bright sunlight washed over them as she tried to wrench her arm away from him.

“I’m not letting you go,” he growled. “What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” He paused long enough to rake his gaze over her. “Is that one of the maids’ costumes? How on earth did you get that?”

“I—”

“There’s no phoenix on your apron, so it’s not a costume, which means you are merely trying to look like a maid.”

Fiona glanced down at her clothing and brushed her hand over the top of the apron. “There’s supposed to be a phoenix?”

Overton dragged her across the terrace and pulled her down the stairs to the garden. As soon as they reached the bottom, he paused. He sent a guarded look toward the back of the building.

Turning back to face her, he released her arm and instead took her hand. “Stay close to me and hurry. We have one chance to get you out of here.”

There was no time for her to respond, even if she’d been able to think of a thing to say. She did as he said and hastened to keep up with him as he pulled her across the garden, veering away from the building, but not too far.

Suddenly one of the doors opened. Glancing to her right, Fiona saw that it was the ballroom and there were people inside, unlike earlier when she and Cassandra had discovered it. Many people—at least a dozen. But surely no one would recognize her.

“Overton?” a feminine voice asked from the open doorway.

Fiona didn’t know the woman.

“Is that?—”

“Just a maid!” Overton said with a laugh.

“Whose hand you’re holding.” The woman squinted at them.

“Er, yes.” He tugged Fiona toward the wall separating the two gardens, then cut to the left, practically running with her to the back corner. There, behind a rather tall shrubbery, he pushed open a door in the wall and pulled her through to the other side.

Reaching past her, he closed the door. She felt cold wood against her back.

“What in the devil are you doing here?” He clasped his forehead and stared down at her.

She expected his eyes to be frigid, as they’d been before when he was annoyed. However, he was perhaps not quite annoyed but something else instead. His eyes were liquid silver, hot and wild as he pinned her to the door.

“I’m—”

“Don’t. It doesn’t matter why you’re here. You shouldn’t be.” His gaze dipped over her once more. “And you’re dressed like this. And your hair is coming loose.” He reached up and grasped a lock of her hair. “And they saw me with you.”

“Did they recognize me?”

“I hope not. Thank God you’re wearing this infernal costume.” He was still clasping her hair, and his gaze was still boring into hers as it had the other day. No, not like that. This was something more. This was that connection Cassandra had talked about.

“I’m not at all sure how to get you out of here.” He glanced toward the house, letting her curl slip from his fingers. “Shit. They’re opening those ballroom doors too.”

“I’ll find my way,” Fiona said, determined not to cause him any more trouble. “I’m so sorry. This was ill-advised.”

His gaze met hers once more with the same fire and intensity of a moment ago. “You’re damned right it was. We’ll discuss it later. How the hell are you going to get home? You should wait for me, and I’ll take you.”

“Should I just find a place to hide in the garden then?”

He swore again, more violently than before. “Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t.” She stood on her toes. “I really am sorry.” To punctuate her statement, she pressed her lips to his without thinking about the consequences of such an act.

The moment their mouths met, he pulled back, surprise flashing across his features. It was a brief pause, for in the next instant, he curled his arm around her waist and tugged her to his chest as he lowered his mouth to hers.

The sensation of his lips on hers was a wondrous delight. At first, the touch was fleeting, but then he cupped her face with his other hand. She felt as if she might melt against him.

A low groan vibrated from his throat as he angled his head and brushed his mouth against hers. His lips parted, prompting her to do the same. She clutched at his arm and waist, desperate for more of…everything.

“Well, this is most improper.”