Damned if he didn’t make her wonder what it might be like to meet him in the darkness, another woman at another time in another place. To give in to temptation.

For the first time. Since the last time.

Since the only time.

She stiffened at the thought. He was a very dangerous man, and she was not Chase tonight. This was not her club. She had no power here.

He did, however.

She looked toward the glittering ballroom. “I should return to the festivities. And my chaperones.”

“Which are legion, no doubt.”

“I’ve a sister-in-law with sisters-in-law. There is nothing a gaggle of women enjoys more than adorning the unmarried.”

He smiled at the word. “Adorned is right.” His gaze flickered to the feathers protruding from her coif. She resisted the urge to rip them out. She’d agreed to the damn things as a trade – she wore them, and in return was allowed to arrive at and leave the ball in her own conveyance.

She scowled. “Don’t look at them.” He returned his attention to her eyes, and she recognized the humor dancing in his brown gaze. “And don’t laugh. You try dressing for a ball with three ladies and their maids fawning about.”

His lips twitched. “I take it you do not enjoy fashion.”

She swatted at an errant feather that had fallen into her field of vision, as though she’d summoned it with her vitriol. “Whatever gave you such an idea?”

He laughed then, and she enjoyed the sound, almost forgetting why they were here.

He reminded her. “A duchess and a marchioness will help you change minds.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was no fool. He knew precisely what she was doing.

He rocked back on his heels. “Let’s not play games. You’re angling for Society to welcome you back. You’ve trotted out your brother, his wife, her family —” He looked over her shoulder toward the ballroom. “Hell, you’ve even danced with the Duke of Lamont.”

“For someone who does not know me, you seem to be rather focused on my evening.”

“I am a newsman. I notice things that are out of the ordinary.”

“I’m perfectly ordinary,” she said.

He laughed. “Of course you are.”

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable – not knowing how she should behave – not knowing who she should pretend to be for this man who seemed to see everything. Finally, she said, “It seems an impossible feat, changing their minds.”

Something flashed across his face, there, then gone. Irritation flared. “That was not a demand for pity.”

“It was not pity.”

“Good,” she said. What, then?

“You can hold your ground with them, you know.” She could do more than that. His thoughts appeared to go in a similar direction. “How did you know who Lady Mary’s suitors are?”

“Everyone knows that.”

He did not waver. “Everyone who has paid attention to the season for the last year.”

She shrugged. “Just because I do not attend parties doesn’t mean I am ignorant of the workings of the ton.”

“You know a great deal about the ton, I think.”

If he only knew. “It would be stupid for me to attempt to return to Society without basic reconnaissance.”

“That is a term usually reserved for military conflict.”

She raised a brow. “It is London in season. You think I am not at war?”

He smiled at that and inclined his head, but did not allow the conversation to lighten. Instead, he played the reporter. “You knew that the girls would turn on her if you pushed her.”

She looked away, thinking of Lady Mary. “When given the opportunity, Society will happily cannibalize itself.”

He bit back a laugh.

She narrowed her gaze on him. “You find that amusing?”

“I find it remarkable that someone so desperate to rejoin its ranks sees the truth of Society so clearly.”

“Who said I was desperate to rejoin its ranks?”

He was paying close attention now. “You’re not?”

Suspicion whispered through her. “You are very good at your job.”

He did not hesitate. “I am the best there is.”

She should not like his arrogance, but she did. “I nearly gave you your story.”

“I already have my story.”

She did not care for the statement. “And what is that?”

He did not reply, watching her carefully. “You seemed to enjoy your time with the Duke of Lamont.”

She did not want him thinking of her time with Temple. Did not want him considering how it was that she and the duke who owned a gaming hell knew each other. “Why are you interested in me?”

He leaned back against the stone balustrade. “The aristocracy’s prodigal daughter is returned. Why would I not be interested in you?”

She gave a little huff of laughter. “Fatted calf and all that?”

“Fresh out of plump calves this season. Would you settle for canapés and a cup of tepid lemonade?”

It was her turn to smile. “I’m not returned for the aristocracy.”

He leaned in at that, coming closer, wrapping her in the heat of him. He was a devastatingly handsome man, and in another time, as another person, with another life, she might have welcomed his approach. Might have met it head-on. Might have given herself up to the temptation of him.

It seemed unfair that Georgiana had never had such a chance. Or was it a desire? Lady Mary’s insult echoed. Whore. The word she could not escape, no matter how false it was.