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H e had yet to move into his father’s London address, mostly because he preferred his own place. It had been his safety net after university when his nickname struck a goldmine of scandal. Ballerinas, opera singers, several widows, and an affair or two with a woman half in love with him.

None, however, were mistresses of any kind, despite what rumor would have the masses believe. The exception was one foolish encounter with his father’s mistress, which was all it took to set his persona of clay into the kiln of popular opinion.

He took another overindulgent look in the mirror, checking his shave and the cut of his navy blue jacket.

It was as dark as midnight with a hint of blue.

A rich fabric and color with notability stamped across the well-tailored shoulders.

The waistcoat, a dusky rose brocade outlined with gold thread, called for attention.

He dressed for her. The woman who’d called him Dalliance yesterday. The woman he was on his way to meet this afternoon. If all went as planned, he’d have Miss Rutledge off his last nerve, and if the benefit was a budding attraction with Miss Hancock, then he counted himself lucky.

When he arrived at her townhouse, it took all his energy to tamp down the urge to bound up the steps two at a time. He was greeted by her butler, properly turned out but not as stately as his own. The man seemed more relaxed, more like a family member than a servant.

“Miss Hancock is awaiting you in the upstairs parlor.”

Dalliance followed the butler up the single, polished oak staircase, slowing his gait as they reached an open doorway.

Soft winter blue silk hugged the walls, and a rich walnut chair rail encircled the room three feet from the floor.

A modest décor of several small paintings and a lovely ormolu clock on the hearth mantle.

It was a pretty room completely outdone by the beautiful woman who stood in the middle, her hands clasped at her waist and a tentative smile on her blooming lips.

Locking gazes with her, he absently handed the butler his hat and moved forward to greet her properly.

“Thank you for having me today, Miss Hancock.” He bent over her hand as her gaze shifted from him to the butler. She gave the man a hint of a nod, and they were left alone.

“I’m not in the custom of having gentleman callers. You understand?”

“There’s nothing untoward about a friendly meeting.”

“There is if a crowd was gathering on my stoop when you knocked on the door.” She waved him into a wingback chair covered in fine leather.

“No crowd.” He nodded for her to take a seat before he got comfortable, although he would be the first to admit he felt anything but comfortable.

His heart raced, and his mind was suddenly flooded with a desire to sweep his nose up the nape of her neck and smell her.

The scent of lavender was put to memory.

“I’m on pins and needles to hear your ludicrous plans, but first, let me say I’m not certain why you think I wish to humiliate these women.”

“For one, because you don’t need them.”

“What makes you think that? Because my half-brother is a powerful duke?”

“No. You don’t need them because you’re good at making friends. Better friends.”

She made a face. “No. I’m good at knowing the right people. Making friends is different than knowing people.”

“Miss Hancock, these women are not your friends. They are gossips climbing society’s rung and stomping on whomever they need to in order to achieve their goals. Or, as in your case, using whomever is convenient to get there.”

“I may be young, but I am not a ninnyhammer. I realize they are not my friends.”

“But I’d like to think that we are.”

“Are we? If so then I would call you by name and you by mine.”

“All right, Truly, my name is Arlington.” He gave her a look of triumph, daring her to say it, smiling ear to ear with the dare.

“Your name is Dalliance. I doubt even your mother called you Arlington.”

He chuckled. “Like I said. Friends. You treat me as an equal, and it’s rather nice, actually.”

“Only because everyone should be equal. Titles are fluff.”

“And that, my dear, is your problem.”

She folded her arms tight, straightening her spine and wriggling her shoulders into place. Her nostrils flared slightly, and he knew he had hit a nerve.

“The idealism, not the idea. As much as equality should be an unremarkable social practice inherit in all humanity, it is not. If you truly thought so, Truly ,” he paused after emphasizing her name, “I would not be here in your home, discussing plots and schemes to bring a gaggle of ill-mannered ladies of lesser value to heel.”

“You mean greater value.”

He sat forward, making tsking sounds with his tongue. “We must work on your inclination to disregard yourself at every turn. I am not amused by it. I don’t agree with it, and you do a poor job of convincing me that you believe it.”

She coughed after a gasping hiccup that soon turned into a chuckle.

“Perhaps your nickname should be Daring instead.” She surprised him with a smile more lethal than any he’d seen.

“You’re correct. I don’t believe it. I think the nobility are less than they believe, and I am more than they shall ever know.

But it does not change the rules they follow or the ones I must. Let me help you understand. ”

“I cannot wait.” He cocked a brow, sitting back and knuckling his chin.

“I have never met my half-brother. I have no inkling to become…hmm…a broken-hearted female or, more to the point, a woman dependent on payment for services rendered.” She held up a hand even though he had not interrupted.

“I realize the argument could be made that marrying is closely related to the same thing, but at least it’s legally permanent.

” She braced her hands on her knees and held him prisoner with a steady gaze.

“The current Duke of Justamere still pays my bills as a lifelong agreement with my mother, except that agreement is now void, and I will eventually run out of money. There’s little else I can do but marry well, and though I may garner invites to prestigious places, I lack the acquaintances that these ladies who call themselves my friends have. I need them, and they need me.”

“You have a business arrangement with them?”

She tilted her head in thought, searching the corners of the room. “An unspoken one. Yes. Also, one I believe they think I’m too dimwitted to comprehend.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “They take you for a fool, but you are anything but that.”

“I’d like to think so. I’ve been quiet, and besides my outburst on the terrace a few nights ago, I remain quiet, but I admittedly have grown weary of the whole affair.

Now, if I do as you suggest and allow you to court me in theory only, then jilt you, I may find some satisfaction in that, but at the expense of myself.

Pride comes before a fall.” She shrugged.

“And what does the infamous Dalliance get out of this?”

He rubbed the space behind his ear, squinting one eye. “Rid of a particular problem that’s been nipping at a proposal for too long.”

“Genevieve Rutledge,” she said under her breath, but loud enough for the room. She looked up at him slowly. “She’s the one who saw the skeleton?”

“Precisely. And what the God-forsaken hell does that mean?”

She started to laugh; a hand clamped over her mouth.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help it. As I said before, it’s a childish game girls play.

One stands in front of a mirror or anything that makes a reflection, then asks whom shall I marry?

At which point the girl then looks in the mirror, and if she sees a skeleton, she will forever be a spinster. ”

“And if she sees a man, she finds a husband.” He rolled his eyes. “For the love of God. That’s what she meant when she said I was in her boudoir.”

Truly nodded. “She told me that she was expecting a proposal from someone special.”

Dalliance rubbed his hands together. “This will work out better than I expected.”

“Why not just simply tell her you’re not interested?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You think I haven’t tried? The night of the ball, did she look dissuaded?”

“No.”

“Exactly. And I’d spoken quite rudely and openly with her hours before that.

She’ll never give up. But if I’m seen with you, attracted to you, dancing with you, engaging myself to you…

eventually, the humiliation will be too great for her to continue.

And if, by chance, it ends up in the gossip rags. Even better.”

“No. Not the paper. I cannot risk losing any more time.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, to make you the romantic obsession of my heart’s desire and then for you to give me the cut-direct would make you the most sought-after female of the season.”

“What conceit,” she said without any real malice.

“But true.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “But true.”

“Two birds,” he said.

“One stone.” And just like that, they had an agreement.

As if on cue, refreshments arrived. Miss Hancock arranged the teacups, poured, added a dollop of cream, then came around the little tea table and sat on the edge directly in front of him.

Her smile was infectious. She handed him a cup.

“A toast to a successful partnership and a jilting worthy of the papers.”

He raised his cup in salute.

“To Arlington,” she said, beaming. His heart did a little tickling tap dance at the sound of his name on her lips.

“To Truly,” he returned.

She took their cups and put them aside, sliding the tray farther away from her delectable hip. “Now,” she said, clapping her hands once. “What is the plan?”

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, close enough to smell the lavender in her hair, to see the faded girlish freckles on her nose. “Leave the details to me. In the meantime, we’ll attend as many affairs as possible.”

“We’ll only have eyes for one another.” The excitement coming from her was greater than he expected and fed his already burgeoning attraction to her.

He memorized her face, the smile, the way her dark hair curled around her ear. He let out a sigh, felt her hands on his cheeks, and met her gaze. The moment caught in his throat. He could see she was about to kiss him. “Don’t do it.”

“Don’t you think we should practice a little? I’m sure you don’t need it, but I do.”

“You think we’ll be kissing in public?”

“No, but don’t you think we should have a reference?” Her hands remained on his cheeks, and he covered them with his hands. “Arlington?” When her gaze moved to his mouth, he knew.

It wasn’t the attraction or the connection they had. It was that he would never be the same. That’s the thing he knew.

As her mouth drew close, he felt her lips like a whisper of breath just before she touched them to his.

He watched her eyes close, and instinct took over.

Sliding his palm around her neck, he brought her closer, sealing their deal, their fate.

The heated thud in his chest was like a branding iron on his heart as he moaned against her mouth, and she opened for him for a taste too wicked to be true.

Dalliance pulled her hands from his jaw, cradling them against his chin, and kissed her trembling knuckles.

“Don’t say it, Dalliance. I wanted to kiss you.”

“I thought it was Arlington.” He softened his voice, adding just enough cheek to lift the awkwardly erotic mood.

The erotic part was all him, and he was only mentally surprised at his response.

He should not feel anything for her, but he did.

The game was a tiny bit dangerous if one considered the painful ending to such a sweet, emotional caress.

“Now we won’t have to lie. We’ll appear closer than we are because we’ve been closer than we are. Do you understand?”

“I hear what you’re saying, and if that’s what you needed to make this look real, then I’m not complaining. But I am serious about the name.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m more comfortable with Dalliance.” She wobbled a smile as she sat on a tea table in the middle of a formal parlor, trying to convince him it was nothing.

“Whatever you wish, Truly.”

She dipped her head with a shy smile, contrary to the bold move she’d just made minutes before. “You are more accomplished at this game than I.”

“I don’t need the distance of title, if you don’t mind.”

She shook her head, indicating that her name was not off-limits.

He liked her too much and allowed his curiosity to imagine their next kiss because, damn it all, if that would be their last.