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He returned to the ballroom to find to his horror that the lady was dancing with Lannister.

Bloody hell, is there no one to protect her from the likes of him?

Lannister was not only a gazetted fortune hunter, he was a loose screw to boot.

Not the sort of unsavory character that ought to be let anywhere near young ladies of virtue.

He was banned from Almack’s for that very reason.

Aware, with a twinge of conscience, that he was as guilty as Lannister of chasing a fortune, he still maintained that at least he was aboveboard about it.

He had no intention of trying to make the girl fall in love with him.

Well, not unless she felt the same. He would never stoop to a pretense of feelings he didn’t have.

The girl’s father wasn’t here, and she had no adult brother to watch out for her, or even an uncle.

Was her chaperone unaware of Lannister’s reputation or just lax?

She might be unaware, of course. Lannister was charming, the ladies loved him.

His more extreme behaviors were probably only known to the gentlemen.

Damn it, what could he do? If he attempted to speak to her again tonight, she would likely react badly, and he could hardly warn her against Lannister without sounding like a hypocrite. She wouldn’t know of Lannister’s reputation, and he wasn’t about to tell her.

Then he spotted Ashford, Caro, and Greathouse returning to the ballroom from the refreshments area. He headed in their direction and intercepted his friend. “Can I have a word with you quietly?” he said in the other man’s ear.

“Of course, old chap,” said Ashford. “Caro’s going to dance with Fabian. I’m all yours.”

They retired to an alcove out of the main flow of traffic, and Robert said, “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything you like. What is it?”

“I just spotted Lannister dancing with Miss Watson.”

“Good God!”

“Yes, precisely! She has no one to protect her from his sort. Her father isn’t in London, and she has no male guardian here, only her chaperone, Lady Holbrook, to advise her.

Would you keep an eye on her? She and I”—he flushed—“had a little misunderstanding earlier on, and she is a trifle annoyed with me at the moment. I don’t think she would take kindly to me offering her unsolicited advice at this juncture. ”

“Pot calling the kettle black?”

“She would perceive it as such, I fear. There is a clear difference, but she wouldn’t know that and nor should she.”

“You can rely on me, old chap!” Ashford clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re the best of good fellows, Emrys.

Thank you!” Robert shook his hand fervently, a sudden weight lifting.

“I shan’t be staying. I only came to speak with her, and it all went rather horribly wrong.

I won’t do myself any favors attempting to approach her again tonight. I mean to leave it until tomorrow.”

“In hot pursuit?”

“I am.”

“Best of luck, Robert,” said Ashford in all sincerity.

“Thank you. I’m going to need it. I never thought myself lacking in address, but there is something about the lady that seems to get me wrong footed. Dashed if I know what it is. She’s a vicar’s daughter, for God’s sake!”

Ashford gave him an odd look and shook his head.

“What?” asked Robert.

“Nothing, old man,” Ashford smiled but wouldn’t be drawn.

Robert glanced back at Miss Watson. She seemed highly amused by Lannister, and it made him uneasy. He would call upon her tomorrow. Paradoxically, now that she had thrown down the gauntlet, he was quite determined to pursue her. For in truth, what other choice do I have?

*

Sarah watched the duke leave with mixed feelings.

On the one hand she was glad, or ought to be, that she had sent him off with a flea in his ear; on the other, the ache in her breast gave the lie to that.

She couldn’t help but think that if he’d wanted to, he might have tried to talk to her again.

But then she had been quite rude to him.

He was a duke after all. If Daphne knew she had spoken to him like that, she would have a fit of the vapors.

She had been so elated when she’d seen him coming toward her and so angry at the same time.

When he had very high-handedly demanded the next dance, she ought to have given him a set down and chosen someone else, but the temptation to accept had been irresistible.

However, when he had then tried to pick up where they had left off a week ago and pretend he hadn’t been dancing attendance on the widow all that time, her fury had come blazing back.

“I’ve lost your attention, my dear,” said her dancing partner, recalling her scattered wits. He gave her a droll smile. “A penny for them?”

She had met the Earl of Lannister for the first time three nights ago at Lady Morton’s party. He was handsome, witty, and charming and had claimed her for two dances. His attention had been a balm to her heart, bruised from the duke’s neglect.

She flushed and said lightly, “Nothing of consequence, my lord. You were telling me the tale of the horse that won?”

“Yes, first bit of luck I’ve had in a while.

But with a name like Tickle My Fancy, how could it lose?

I got excellent odds, too.” He slid an arm round her waist as they circled each other in the steps of the dance, bringing her close against his side with a smile.

“I think my luck is decidedly in at the moment. Perhaps it is you bringing me good fortune, Miss Watson?”

“How absurd, my lord!” she said with a laugh. His flirtatious manner was a little flustering. She wasn’t accustomed to flirting and didn’t know how to do it successfully. The duke didn’t flirt with her. The thought was a little depressing.

He let her go, sliding his arm away slowly, his hand running across her back, his gaze holding hers longer than it should.

This assault on her senses was confusing, and she felt peculiarly light-headed.

They stepped around each other and came back together, his fingers brushing her side again through the fabric of her gown, before seizing her hand and twirling her under his arm.

His arm came round her waist again for the promenade, and he murmured in her ear, “You’re a dashed attractive young woman, but you know that, don’t you? ”

Her cheeks flooded scarlet, and she shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t, my lord.”

“Wouldn’t what?” They turned to face each other, hands clasped.

“Wouldn’t say such things. They put me to the blush. I’m not accustomed to them and do not for a moment think them true.”

“Did no one teach you how to flirt, Miss Watson?”

She shook her head again.

“Then I shall have to teach you. It is a useful skill for a lady wishing to intrigue a gentleman.”

“What makes you think I wish to intrigue a gentleman?”

“Ah, that is better. But of course, you do. You cannot tell me that none of your many beaux have taken your fancy?”

She opened her mouth to say that there was no one, and he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Tut, Miss Watson, do not tell me lies, for I will not believe you. Someone has you in his snare, and I’ll warrant it is not me. Despite my best efforts.” His expression was so woebegone at this, she had to laugh.

He grinned, which made his startlingly bright blue eyes dance. “You will make a first-rate flirt with a little coaching,” he said, adding conspiratorially, “I will help you land your chosen one, for if I cannot have you for myself, I will do my very best to see you happy.”

This statement, as outrageous as it was, made her heart flutter in an odd way.

She didn’t really believe his nonsense, but the notion that someone would be her champion was attractive.

To have someone care for me enough to want to make me happy?

She was not so foolish as to think the earl was the one who would do so, but the idea was nonetheless attractive.

With a pang, she wished the duke showed such an inclination.

So far, she had to admit that the only inclination he had shown was in service of his own needs.

He was, she realized sadly, remarkably self-centered.

Although she acquitted him of being so deliberately.

It would be a side effect of his upbringing.

He would never have been taught to consider others’ needs above his own, except in a noblesse oblige kind of way.

Though she was sure he would be horrified to be perceived as selfish and would vigorously deny it.

The dance was drawing to its close, and she looked up at the earl and said with a smile, “You, my lord, are full of nonsense. I will not be drawn into it.”

“That’s put me in my place,” he said, not one whit bothered by her attempt at a set down. She laughed and decided that she liked him in spite of his attempts to flirt with her.

Returned to the circle of her admirers, all clamoring for her hand in the next dance, she was confronted by a plethora of choice. A gentle cough behind her made her look round, and she found Viscount Ashford bowing to her.

“May I have this dance, Miss Watson?” Something in his kind smile made her lay her hand on his arm.

“I would be delighted, sir,” and she let Ashford lead her away to the groans of the other gentlemen.

If she didn’t know for a fact that all this attention was caused by her fortune, she would be in danger of getting a swelled head.

As it was, she knew precisely why she was so popular, and it was a delight to swan off with the viscount who, being married, was unlikely to have such ulterior motives.

Viscount Ashford, despite his disheveled appearance, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“Don’t look now,” he murmured, “but Exforth’s about to tread on Lady Keighley’s skirt.”

“Oh dear! He is remarkably clumsy. He trod on my toes twice earlier,” she confessed. “I do feel sorry for him.”

“Yes, poor chap, he should stick to horses. Excellent rider to hounds, hopeless on the dance floor.”