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She could breathe again, thanks to Caden dragging her away from too many eyes and too many questions, focused entirely on her.

Lord Hardasher with the spine-chilling stare caused the hair at her nape to stand on end. She’d spotted him hovering at the edge of the party near she and Lady Wentworth. She tried telling herself he, like them, disliked crowds.

When he attempted to partner with her for the game, her suspicion that he had a particular interest in her resurfaced .

Then Mr. Randall arrived and started with his questions. They’d seemed innocuous enough at first. But he kept digging. The deeper he dug, the more she grew convinced he, too, had an agenda.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek. Don’t go borrowing trouble, Glory, her father would say.

Right. Was it more likely Mr. Randall and Lord Hardasher both plotted against her, or that their interest in her reflected nothing more than polite curiosity? The latter, of course.

The problem here was Caden. Caden, and his ability to scramble her thinking without even trying. The problem should have taken care of itself, with Anna steering clear of the six foot two glorious male specimen, and would have—if not for Lady Wentworth’s machinations.

She, at least, Anna trusted to have no ulterior motives. She simply wanted Anna to have a little fun.

What, she wondered, did Caden want?

They moved forward in the queue.

He lowered his head to murmur low in her ear. “You’re thinking very hard about something.”

She suppressed a shiver of pleasure as the deep timbre of his voice sent a tickling sensation curling through her. “Nothing in particular,” she lied.

“Hmm.” A dubious glint shone in his blue eyes, as if he knew she held something back.

She didn’t recall Caden, the boy, having a particularly inquisitive nature. But Caden the man could give lessons to a dog sniffing out a bone.

“Mrs. Jones?”

“Yes? ”

“I pray you, at least, listened when Lady Fenton announced the rules.”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “How hard could it be?”

His complexion went ruddy. He ran a finger under his cravat, as if to loosen it, and muttered, “You have no idea.”

Before she could ask what on earth he meant, they reached the head of the line. Caden accepted the letter-sized card, and the Fentons shewed them off with well-wishes for a good showing.

“And we’re off.” Card in hand, he led her down wide marble steps into the long gallery. They passed several couples, heads bent over their game cards. When they reached a semi-secluded alcove, Caden drew her to a halt.

“Now then.” He held out the card, but fixed his eyes on her. “The rules?”

Helpless to resist the magnetic draw of his gaze, her eyes locked with his. The sleepy intensity of his stare set off a flurry of butterflies in her belly.

The sensation was oddly familiar. It reminded her of how he’d made her feel as a girl.

That searing blue gaze of his had left her dizzy and full of breathless anticipation.

At the time, she hadn’t fully understood that he was who stirred those delicious feelings in her.

She had known she secretly enjoyed having attention fixed solely on her.

“I take it we need to ask someone?” he asked with a wry grin.

Irritation—at herself or him, she couldn’t say—had her snatching the card from him. She studied it while piecing together what she’d heard of Lady Fenton’s instructions. “You see the rows and columns of squares?”

He leaned in. The heat from his body and his wickedly delectable scent, a mix of spicy cologne and something fresh—his soap or shampoo— filled her nostrils. Her heartbeat fluttered against her ribs like a hummingbird’s wings in flight.

“We’re to locate these items,” she said, hoping he missed the breathless quality of her voice.

“All of them?”

He sounded so appalled, she chuckled. “We only need to complete one consecutive row or column. Then we return with our finds. The first couple back wins.”

He reached out to angle the card toward him, his gloved fingers partially covering hers. The contact felt somehow intimate and claiming, as if he had every right to touch her.

“Lady’s broach. Gothic novel. Feather. Miniature portrait. Silver comb. Lady’s gold slipper.”

“Gold slipper? Where do you see that?”

“Oh, isn’t gold slipper there? My eyes must be playing tricks.”

She scanned the items, frowning. “I don’t see anything you could confuse with slipper.”

“Shall we?” His free hand grazed the small of her back, urging her toward the recesses of the manse—away from the general flow of guests who swarmed the well-stocked library, music room and sitting areas nearest the grand parlor.

“Speaking of slippers, yours are a lovely shade of blue with what looks like very skilled hand-stitched embroidery. This after the expensive walking boots you sported this morning. I begin to see a pattern.”

She blinked. He’d noticed her slippers? Even Lady Wentworth had never commented on Anna’s footwear. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“Ah. I do apologize.” He ducked his head as if chagrined, and guided her down a narrow corridor splitting off from the main .

She glanced behind her, aware she no longer heard other guests. A sense of contentment suffused her. She could almost convince herself she and Caden were two friends who happened to find themselves at the same party, not a care in the world save playing a game.

She grinned to herself. “You apologize, sir? For what, pray tell?”

A regretful smile curved his lips. “You admittedly didn’t pack a slew of party dresses. I assume Lady Wentworth not only garnered gowns, but also slippers and boots for you, as well. Rather uncouth of me to broach the subject, however.”

Her spine stiffened. So much for forgetting her current circumstances. Clearly Caden had not. Worse still, he saw her as a servant reduced to wearing another’s shoes.

He sighed. “What have I said wrong now?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He drew to her to a halt. “Out with it, Jones.”

She lifted her chin. “I am not wearing borrowed slippers, nor did I borrow those boots.”

He flashed her a crooked, pirate’s grin. “Just so.”

She frowned, feeling vaguely tricked.

He regained her hand and resumed leading her in a leisurely stroll. “Odd though.”

Wary now, she slanted him a glance. “What’s that?”

“For one with such high standards in footwear, your choice of bonnets leaves a great deal to be desired.”

Her mouth fell open and she stopped abruptly. “I beg your pardon?”

He released her hand, and glanced back from whence they’d come as if to ascertain no one followed. With a grunt of satisfaction, he made fast work untying the bow at her chin .

“What are you doing?” she demanded, though she made no move to stop him.

He plucked the bonnet from her head and jammed it in his coat pocket.

“Well,” she huffed. “Now you’ve likely crumpled it beyond repair.” Not that she wasn’t secretly glad to be momentarily rid of it.

He looked not the least repentant. “It was already there, darling. Besides. That thing was blocking my view.”

She threw up her hands and glanced around the corridor. “Your view? Of what pray-tell?”

“Of your beautiful, amber eyes.”

Beautiful? Amber ? She snorted, batting back the flush of pleasure at his words. “Please. My eyes are nothing if not boring old brown.”

He crooked a hand under her chin and guided her face upward ’til their gazes locked. “There’s nothing boring about your eyes, Jones. They seem to capture all the light in any room and glow like expensive brandy held before the fire.”

Her eyes glowed? She didn’t know whether to smile or scowl at his brazen flattery—except her mouth kept trying to pull into a grin, so that wasn’t exactly true.

“Shall we go on?” he asked as if he hadn’t just given her the nicest compliment she could remember receiving, ever.

“I take it you have a destination in mind?” she asked, mostly to fill the silence.

He grasped her hand, once more folding it into his elbow. “I haven’t any notion of the layout of this sprawling manse, but I do have some experience finding my way around meandering architecture. The earl’s estate in Derby. You remember.”

“I…recall you mentioning it this morning. ”

He flicked the briefest glance her way. “I propose we begin our search at the furthest reaches of the manor then work our way back. Any objection?”

“None.” Not because it meant she’d spend more time alone with Caden, she told herself. She merely appreciated relaxing her vigil against the unwanted notice of other guests.

“Excellent. We’re of a like mind—for once.”

“How better to outpace the competition than choose a less traveled path?”

He barked out a laugh. He tucked the card under one arm, freeing his hand to cover hers. His fingertips skimmed her gloved knuckles in a light caress she felt all the way to her toes. “I’m all for weeding out the competition. I have a question, by the by.”

“Oh?” Inwardly, she groaned. They were approaching two open doorways. A dim glow of light shone from within the rooms. Anna scanned the first rooms’s interior searching for possible game items, or anything that might distract him from resuming his interrogations.

“Mrs. Jones, are you,” he cleared his throat, “as glad as I am to find us partnered this afternoon?”

“That’s rather forward, sir.” The answer was an emphatic yes, but she did not want it to be so, and, in any case, she could hardly say so without seeming forward herself.

He shifted to face her, heaving an exasperated sigh. “You are correct. I apologize. My only excuse is finding myself in the unusual circumstance of”—He huffed out a bemused laugh—“begging for scraps.”

She blinked. “I don’t follow.”

He rubbed a gloved hand over his jaw. “I suppose I’m looking for some sign I’m not alone in this…” He broke off, grunting in evident frustration. “…fascination? For my part, at least, finding you has quite elevated this entire affair. ”

The sincerity in his words sent a dangerous burst of warmth through her, leaving her breathless and utterly speechless.

He enthralled her. The sight of him, the timber of his voice. A mere five minutes in his presence led her to make brainless decisions, like agreeing to walk with him this morning, and then allowing him to kiss her.

Oh, all right, and kissing him back.

He also made her feel safe and protected, like Prince Charming incarnate, come to rescue her. But was she actually safe with him? Or had her past with Caden, the boy, blinded her to the potential perils of Caden the man? In truth, she didn’t know him at all. Not anymore.

“Why?” The one-word question spilled out, without her having made a conscious decision to ask.

“Why?”

In for a penny, in for a pound , her father always said. “What about my company do you enjoy?”

His eyes locked with hers. “Isn’t it obvious?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Damn,” he uttered softly. “You’re not lying. How is it you’re widowed and still so innocent?”

“I don’t follow,” she said for the second time in as many minutes.

“Forget it, Jones.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t say what you did and not explain yourself, sir. What does my supposed innocence have to do with anything? For that matter, you said, you’re not lying, as if you knew for certain . Are you claiming to read minds now?”

He gave her a considering look. “You have a tell.”

She laughed. “That’s preposterous.”

He shrugged .

She pulled her hand free and crossed her arms over her chest.“What is this tell, then?”

His lips twitched. “As if I’d reveal my one advantage.”

“You’re bluffing.”

In the warm glow of the wall lamps lining the corridor his thick hair gleamed and his eyes sparkled like blue gems. “On the contrary, Jones. One thing you should know about me is that I notice things.”

He moved closer, and instinct had her retreating backwards ’til her back collided with the wall and they stood toe to toe. The chill of cold plaster permeated her gown, a sharp contrast to the heat pulsing through her.

She drew a bracing breath and the scent of him, a subtle mix of spice and warm male skin teased her already enlivened senses. “You’re claiming you noticed things about me?"

He nodded once.

Curiosity burned through her. “Such as?”

“I know you have a penchant for fine shoes, and an abominable collection of over-large bonnets which you garner like a shield. I know you prefer to keep to yourself, which probably explains how you won the affections of your employer, the noted recluse, with whom you share anti-social tendencies. I know you indulge in regular morning walks.” He leaned closer and his voice lowered.

“And you always smell like flowers and elegance and mystery.”

She licked her lips. “Mystery?”

His eyes tracked the movement, like a cat stalking a mouse. “Definitely.”

A terrible craving for the damnably charming rake to kiss her threatened to topple all her good intentions. She wanted to close her eyes, twine her fingers around his neck, and feel his mouth pressed to hers. How did he do that ?

He traced one finger along a tendril of her hair, and her insides quivered. “You’re a mystery I can’t help wanting to unravel.” His voice lowered to a rough whisper. “You could always share. Your secrets are safe with me.”

His words, his nearness, his bloody irresistible magnetism wiped out any coherent thought in her head save kiss me .

Heat swirled in his blue eyes. “Your face tells me how badly you want me to kiss you. Yet if you could leave this very minute and never lay eyes on me again, I’ve no doubt but that you would.

You arouse and confound me.” He leaned forward, bracing one forearm on the wall beside her head. “Anna, say something.”

Emotions tangled inside her, robbing her of reason. “I…” She peeled her gaze from his too-handsome face and peered over his shoulder though the open doorway directly across the corridor. “I think…”

“Yes?” His face lowered incrementally toward hers.

“…I see a feather,” she squeaked.

He closed his eyes briefly before shifting aside. “Of course you do. Kindly lead the way.”