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“M iss Mason, I presume.”

Finn Caldwell stared down at the chestnut-haired woman he’d caught mid-tumble. The beauty who had draped her curves in a muck-colored travesty of a gown was indeed Mary Catherine Mason. He had not seen his friend’s sister in nearly a decade, but there was no mistaking those big green eyes of hers. In those days, she’d been a reed-thin girl with a seemingly ever-present book in her hand. Now, she’d grown into her long legs and willowy neck. Macie was a true diamond of the first water. No dress, no matter how hideous, could disguise that.

Recognition flared on her face. So, she did remember him.

After what seemed a lifetime.

“Yes, I am. Now that we’ve settled that, would you be so kind as to assist me in regaining my footing?” she requested coolly, then added through gritted teeth. “Please.”

“As ye wish.” With that, he hoisted her none too gently to her feet and steadied her as she regained her balance. Had he gone mad, or was the frown on her plump lips appealing? Though he knew better, he could not resist teasing her. “Perhaps ye should go lighter on the punch.”

Her eyes flashed, propelling an invisible dagger his way. “I have not imbibed a single drop this evening.” She glanced at the wine puddled on the marble. “Evidently, the spill did not end up solely on Lady Sylvie’s gown.” Her frown softened. “I suppose I must thank you despite your horrid insinuation.”

“I’d agree a bit of gratitude would be in order,” Finn replied smoothly. “As for my insinuation, ye would not be the first to indulge a bit too much when away from her father’s watchful eye.”

“Mr. Caldwell, I must thank you for your assistance. It’s quite fortunate that you were here,” Lady Drayton spoke up, the taut set of her features contradicting her words.

“Think nothing of it. As a gentleman, I certainly would not allow a lady to take a nasty tumble.”

“Of course. That goes without saying,” Lady Drayton agreed coolly, even as her lifted brows betrayed her as he’d uttered the word gentleman. “I must confess, I had not expected you to join us tonight.”

“Neither had I.”

Not until he’d learned his old friend Jon Mason would be in attendance with his wedding-ring-averse sister in tow. Talk of the minor scandals Macie had cooked up to deter suitors—mild as they were, at least to his ears—had infiltrated even his club. He simply had to see for himself. So he’d invited himself to their dragon lady of a hostess’s ball.

Lady Drayton’s attention darted from him to a buxom redhead who was at that moment cutting a path through the crowd toward them. Lady Chastity Delacroix. Her doting husband was nowhere in sight. Had the old coot fallen asleep over his vermouth—again?

Lady Chastity’s eyes glimmered with excitement as she met his gaze. Politely, she nodded to their hostess. “Lady Drayton.”

“Good evening, Lady Chastity. It has been far too long,” Lady Drayton precisely enunciated her name even as the frost in her tone contradicted her words.

“It is my pleasure.” Lady Chastity’s attention darted back to Finn. “One never knows who will appear on your guest list.”

Lady Drayton did not even feign a smile. “Sometimes, even I don’t know who has received an invitation.”

“Good evening, Mr. Caldwell,” Lady Chastity said, her ample assets threatening to spill over the low-cut bodice of her elegant blue gown.

“Where might I find your husband tonight? Now’s as good a time as any to settle our recent wager.” Finn kept his expression cool. He had no interest in providing the earl’s wife a distraction from the boor she’d wed.

“He is spending the evening at his club. I’m afraid he was not in the mood for anything more... vigorous.” Lady Chastity aimed a pointed smile his way.

“Have you made Miss Mason’s acquaintance?” Lady Drayton spoke up to offer the usual introductions, if only to cut through the sudden, awkward silence.

Lady Chastity cocked her head toward Macie, regarding her as if she were a curiosity to be observed. “ The Mary Catherine Mason?”

“Is there another?” Macie quipped.

“I suppose not. I’ve heard about you... and your photographs. How very scandalous! I love it.”

Macie smiled, warm and genuine. “A woman with a camera creates quite the stir in our society. I must admit, I rather enjoy the notoriety.”

“How very original!” Lady Chastity sounded genuinely impressed. “I’ve heard tales about town... they’re saying you will soon set your camera aside to join the title hunt. Tell me it’s not true.”

The title hunt. So bloody pointless. The very words nearly set Finn’s back teeth on edge. For her part, Macie appeared decidedly unenthused about the prospect of a well-connected marriage. Good for her .

“Pity there’s no way to hunt the title without taking the man attached to it as well,” Macie said with a slight smile. “The chase would be ever so much more fun.”

“The fun comes later,” Lady Chastity said with a wink. “My Archibald spends many an hour at his club. I only need to endure his presence when he wishes to be seen with an ornament on his arm.”

“My, you should not be so bold,” Lady Drayton admonished.

“It’s quite fine,” Macie replied. “I find this all rather fascinating. Lady Chastity, perhaps you would allow me to make your portrait while I am in London.”

“While doing something naughty, I hope,” Lady Chastity said with a sly smile.

“I am thinking of images in a gothic mansion,” Macie said, her tone more vibrant now. “Beauty and the Beast, with the house cast as the beast.”

“How very exciting! I would enjoy that. Truly,” Lady Chastity said. “But I would not want to keep you from your... other pursuits.”

Macie’s brows knit together. Her face was as expressive as her voice, especially those emerald eyes of hers.

“Other pursuits?” she asked.

“The title hunt—if you are indeed in pursuit, you will definitely have some competition,” Lady Chastity said. “I’ve heard Lord Darington is the catch of the season.”

“I cannot say I’m at all concerned.” Macie accented her reply with a bland shrug.

Finn bit back a chuckle. Lady Chastity had spoken as if she’d shared vital intelligence, but Macie had shown no blasted interest. By thunder, the tales of Mary Catherine Mason’s aversion to noble arses and pompous dolts were true.

“I do understand,” Lady Chastity went on. “Sometimes, it is best to play hard to get. After all, your father does own that wonderful store on Jermyn Street, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” A little frown played on Macie’s mouth. “While we’re at it, Papa also has stores in Cardiff, Liverpool, and Scotland.”

Lady Chastity flashed a knowing smile. “Well then, that should be sufficient to get your hands on an earl, at the least.”

As the buxom countess continued to dispense her pearls of title-hunting wisdom, their hostess appeared to struggle against her rising irritation. Lady Drayton’s complexion had paled to a marble-white while her mouth had thinned to a tight slash. As her pinched gaze lingered over the younger woman, she looked to be battling an urge to press a hand over Lady Chastity’s ever-moving mouth.

Even Finn—a man with no experience in the subtleties of matchmaking or scheming, for that matter—could see the society matron had her eye on Macie’s family fortune. Was it his imagination, or was Lady Chastity thoroughly enjoying the chance to frustrate the haughty crone’s efforts to pair her scarecrow of a son with Macie?

The matron wobbled slightly, and she gave her head a little shake. If much more blood drained from Lady Drayton’s face, she would require his services to hold her upright, even without a puddle of wine to slip on. “Miss Mason and her brother have to come to London to restore the old mansion on the hill,” she said, her tone steadier than her expression as she deliberately changed the subject.

Watching Lady Chastity sabotage their host, wittingly or not, had been amusing, but Finn’s interest perked up at the mention of the stately house that had long fascinated him. “Jon has inherited Bennington Manor?”

“No.” Macie smiled. “Our grandfather’s home now belongs to me.”

Lady Drayton regarded Macie as though she had grown another head. “Andrew Bennington bequeathed his home to... a woman?”

“And why wouldn’t he?” Macie pinned her with those captivating, dagger-throwing green eyes. “I am his granddaughter. He knew how I love that old house.”

“It is a rather unusual circumstance, you must admit,” Lady Drayton countered.

Macie’s shrug was more casual than her tone. “Surely you must know my grandfather was an unusual man. Quite ahead of his time, really. Perhaps that’s why my mother is unusual. As am I.” Her voice brimmed with pride. Good for her .

“I study the place each time I pass by,” Finn said. “The architecture intrigues me.”

“In that case, you simply must come by. Jon has spoken of your expertise.”

Lady Chastity leaned closer to Macie, as if to confide a secret. “You know it’s haunted, don’t you?”

Macie grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

“How very... unusual. And daring.” Lady Chastity flashed a slight smile. Turning back to Finn, she draped her gloved fingers over his forearm. “I must confess, Mr. Caldwell, I am also feeling a bit daring tonight. I’ve taken the liberty of adding you to my dance card.”

He slowly shook his head. “Forgive me, but I did not come here to dance.”

Lady Drayton’s eyes narrowed, her expression making it clear she would welcome his departure. To the dance floor. To anywhere, in fact, where he was not impeding the introduction of the Drayton lord-in-waiting to the heiress. “Might I ask why you are here, Mr. Caldwell?”

“Curiosity.” He cocked his head toward Macie. “Rumor had it ye’d invited a certain lady who is considerably more adept at scaling apple trees than at strolling across a ballroom floor. I wanted to see for myself.”

A smile curved Macie’s mouth despite the surprise in her eyes. “It has been a very long time since I’ve done any climbing.”

“The two of you are acquainted?” Lady Drayton’s brows hiked, as if Finn had revealed a vile secret.

“It has been a very long time. But I possess an excellent memory,” Finn said rather blandly. “Do ye still run pedestrians off the road with that bicycle of yers, Miss Mason?”

Lady Drayton’s jaw dropped, if only for a moment, even as Macie’s smile reached her eyes. “I’ll have you know I’ve replaced my bicycle with a more modern machine,” Macie said. “It’s easier to maneuver and ever so much faster. And before you ask, Mr. Caldwell, my father still abhors my bloomers.”

If Lady Drayton’s chin plummeted any lower, it might actually touch her chest. “How lovely that you’ve been afforded the chance for an impromptu reunion.”

“How lovely, indeed,” Lady Chastity spoke up. “I am still waiting for my dance, Mr. Caldwell.”

He gave a disinterested shrug. “I doubt my toes would withstand the trauma.”

Pressing her lips together into a pout she evidently intended to be beguiling, Lady Chastity motioned to the dance floor. “One waltz, Mr. Caldwell.”

“Surely you would not refuse a lady,” Lady Drayton urged, the color miraculously returning to her cheeks.

“I would not be so certain.” He saw no point in encouraging Lady Chastity. Especially not now, when he’d much rather be looking into another woman’s emerald eyes.

“Phineas Caldwell, I had not believed you to be a stick in the mud,” Lady Chastity said, not quite teasing.

“A stick in the mud, is it?” Finn turned to Macie. “Might I inquire as to yer thoughts on the matter?”

She squared her shoulders and regarded him with a thoughtful tilt of her chin. “I am no authority on the matter, but this is a ballroom, after all. Dancing is to be expected, is it not?”

“I cannot counter yer logic, Miss Mason.” He crooked an arm in offering. “Shall we dance?”