Amelia perched at the edge of her chair at the edge of the ballroom. She listened with rapt attention to the impromptu lecture she’d prodded Lady Lewin into giving her.

A noted bluestocking and eccentric, Lady Lewin was an expert in demonology, one who needed little prompting to wax enthusiastic on her favorite subject. It was the reason the other old biddies in this, the chaperone’s seating area, were giving them a wide berth.

Amelia had been apprehensive about approaching her. The spinster wasn’t one of the scholar and collectors recommended by Isobel. Relatively new to town, Lady Lewin hadn’t interacted with the contessa before—probably because she was much younger than Amelia had initially supposed—her early forties at most. There was also the fact that, as a woman, Lady Lewin was not held in high regard in the exclusive circle of experts Amelia had been consulting.

That was exactly why Amelia had sought her out. She was not disappointed.

“While Barrett’s demon classification is quite popular with Gurney and his cronies, I’m fond of the King James’ simpler arrangement, the one detailed in his Daemonologie series. His way doesn’t fuss with names and ranks but organizes them according to their modus operandi—the specific behavior demon’s display when bedeviling humans. Of course, his thesis was incorrect. King James believed spirits and demonic influences were the cause of all maladies and illnesses. Now we know they are caused by an imbalance of the humors.”

Amelia nodded. “That seems a far more practicable approach. After all, these entities have the names people gave them, but in reality, one name could describe any number of demons and vice versa.”

She didn’t want to think about the alternative scenario where the demon shared its name with a human. “Would it trouble you if I wrote this down?” she asked, reaching into her unfashionably large reticule for a small pad and pencil.

Lady Lewin blinked and beamed at her. “No, by all means go ahead,” she said before complimenting Amelia on her foresight.

“A commendable practice. I should do the same. These affairs are so deadly dull—well, they normally are with no one to talk to,” she added, patting Amelia on the hand before pulling the drawstring of her own reticule.

Lady Lewin pulled out a copy of Mrs. Moore’s latest horror novel.

Amelia laughed. “I love Mrs. Moore as well. Her books are so…atmospheric.” She trailed off and looked down at her notes.

Lady Lewin was a remarkable woman, with a breadth of understanding for the occult and esoteric. And like Amelia, she was a bit of an outsider in their rigid society.

She felt a kinship to the older woman, the sort that came from a mutual lack of acceptance from their peers.

Amelia slid to the edge of her chair, casting a quick glance around before asking what she didn’t dare ask any of the other priggish scholars she’d been interviewing. “Would you be familiar with the types of entities one could call on to act on someone’s behalf?”

Lady Lewin’s bright expression sobered. “Now, my dear, I realize some of the ton may be a bit too tart-tongued when it comes to you, but summoning the dark forces to do your bidding is not the answer…not that I would know how. My interest is strictly academic.”

Amelia flushed. “No, that is not—”

Lady Lewin tsked maternally. “Believe me, my dear, I have wished for the ability to crush my detractors now and again. But calling on demons is a dangerous business, even if one knows what one is about and you as a mere novice…”

Amelia held up a hand, trying to stop the gentle reprimand before any passersby heard them. Her voice dropped to a thready whisper. “I have no interest in calling a demon; on the contrary, I want to…I wish to rid myself of one.”

“Oh.” Lady Lewin paled. She took hold of Amelia’s hand and held it tight. “Er, I wish I could help you, my dear…”

Amelia smiled despite tears stinging at her eyes. Lady Lewin was definitely a kindred spirit.

“I understand, your interest is strictly academic. But all I want is information. I need to know about those entities that can act in our world, giants with glowing eyes,” she whispered.

Lady Lewin’s mouth turned down. “According to my studies, that would not be a demon. You see, the latter are creatures of spirit—they do not possess a physical body. I’ve never heard of one that could manifest itself on this plane.”

It was Amelia’s turn to frown. “But if they don’t have bodies, how do they act?”

“By using others, influencing the weak-willed or through outright possession. Truth be told, I’ve had more than one nightmare imagining who on my staff might be possessed. It’s hardly a rational fear. From what I’ve read, a possessed person is barely functional, and they grow sickly as if the demon feeds off them. The afflicted could not do a servant’s work for very long.”

She caught Amelia’s dismayed expression. “Though they are rare, there are other nefarious creatures in the world, those with corporeal form. You may not be dealing with a demon at all.”

Amelia bit her lip. If the giant wasn’t a demon, then what was it? “What could it be?”

Lady Lewin gaze sharpened, a determined glint in her eye. “Why don’t you call on me in a few days? I can delve into my library and try to come up with a list. I suggest you do the same with the books you’ve already collected.”

Trying to take heart, Amelia nodded. It was what she’d been doing, but her focus had been on demons. If Lady Lewin was correct, then none of her meticulously listed research had any relevance.

They spoke a half hour more until there was a commotion at the door. People began to whisper and throw them sideways glances.

Amelia didn’t need to be told what had captured their attention. Gideon had arrived. Hurriedly, she rose, preparing to excuse herself.

Lady Lewin gave her a knowing glance before turning in her seat, craning her neck to see across the room. “No need for explanations, my dear. If I had that man at my beck and call, I’d head for the nearest orangery as well.”

Dumbstruck, Amelia stared at her, embarrassment flooding her cheeks.

Lady Lewin was too busy looking at Gideon to notice her chagrin. “My, my,” the older woman breathed, snapping her fan open and waving it over herself. “Look at those shoulders. I imagine that’s what gladiators used to look like in the Roman arena…”

Amelia choked back unwilling laughter. Face flaming, she bid Lady Lewin a hasty goodbye. It would do no good to deny the affair at this point.

Despite her entreaties, Gideon insisted on appearing at every event she attended. Though he would never do more than give her a civil greeting before their avid audience, people had inevitably noticed when they would disappear together.

She had insisted on not being seen with him, and the earl had obeyed her instructions to the letter. However, he always managed to find that one moment when no one was watching to waylay her. Once, he’d snatched her in the empty hallway outside of the ladies receiving room at the Trent rout. At the Kenneth ball, he’d managed to grab her from an alcove just a few steps away from the crowded dance floor.

This time, Amelia got no further than the hall outside the ballroom. She was looking for a footman to fetch her cloak when Gideon appeared at her back, his hands burning through the delicately embroidered organza cloth at her waistline.

“Come with me,” he whispered in her ear.

“No, Gideon.”

Her protest fell on deaf ears. He rushed her to a narrow hallway and through a series of darkened rooms before tapping on the wall, revealing an opening in an otherwise unexceptional oak panel.

“A hidden door!” she said, enchanted despite herself. It was just like a Mrs. Moore novel.

“Shh,” he chided with a flash of his white teeth.

Amelia bit her tongue when she saw where they were.

The room opened directly off the main ballroom. The only thing that hid them from view was an ornate metal grillwork she had barely noticed from the other side.

She would never have imagined there was a room behind that decorative screen. Between it and the ballroom proper was a wide corridor encircling the entire room. At the sides were private alcoves where couples would retreat for a few moments of privacy, but this small space was completely obscured by the screen and its repetitive floral pattern.

It was the perfect place to observe the ball in secret. Gideon led her to the front of the room so they could observe the milling crowd. The low strains of a waltz rose and strengthened.

“The band is just behind that pillar,” he whispered into her ear. His lips pressed to the side of her neck, making her shiver. “That is why no one is standing so close to the screen. But I would advise you to be quiet as you can be. You tend to lose yourself when I’m buried deep inside you.”

He couldn’t be serious. Amelia opened her mouth to protest, but Gideon silenced her with his lips. His tongue teased, robbing her of her good sense.

It was always this way when they were alone—and sometimes when they weren’t. Gideon could send her into flames with the lightest of touches or a single smoldering glance.

Cool air on her chest alerted her to the fact her bodice had been undone.

“My lord, we must stop.” She could see the whirling couples on the dance floor. What if she cried out in her passion? She couldn’t trust herself with him.

Amelia trembled in his arms as his hot mouth closed over the taut buds of her breasts. He circled her waist with one arm. Holding her upright, he lathed and bit at her nipple, pulling up her skirts with his other hand.

She melted against him, her resolve in cinders. Being in Gideon’s arms was worth the loss of her pride, which was somewhere down around her ankles along with her drawers.

Amelia raised her arm and curled it around his neck as one of Gideon’s big hands palmed her breast. His sheer size was exciting, the way he could hold her, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

But Gideon didn’t enfold her in his embrace. Instead, he turned her away from him, placing her hands on the crossbars of the screen. His mouth flamed up her neck, holding her still when she tried to turn to him again.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, using his knee to nudge her legs farther apart.

Cool air caressed her skin as he lifted her skirts, exposing her bare bottom to his touch. One hand gripped her waist as the other caressed and probed. Amelia’s hands tightened reflexively on the screen as his cock parted her heated folds.

Thick steel pushed past her constricted entrance. Impatient, she backed against him, urging him inside with a whimper. The sensation nearly made her scream. She had never wanted anyone or anything so badly.

Gideon pulled her tight against him, pushing and retreating as he stroked faster and faster. Her fingers flexed on the screen and she trembled, moving mindlessly and unconsciously where he led.

Exquisite pleasure pulsed through her. She felt like one of the musical instruments being played just a few feet away. Amelia was a violin, and Gideon was a virtuoso, the master plucking at her strings.

A swell in the music reminded her she was only a few feet from discovery. What if someone could see them through the screen? It was a heavy grill, but she could see the ballroom. If one of the other guests focused in their direction they might be able to make out their bodies locked in an illicit embrace.

“Gideon.” Her cry was involuntary and probably much louder to her ears than it actually was.

Nevertheless, Gideon chuckled. “You have to be quiet love.”

That was more easily said than done. “I don’t think I can be,” she gasped and moaned when he thrust his full length into her again.

“Then I’ll help you,” he whispered, covering her mouth with his hand and pinning her against him as he continued to plunder, the relentless drive of his hips into her sheath calling forth an answering throb of primitive joy.

Amelia was on the edge, clinging to the screen as a sharp hunger swelled and clawed for release. Her backside moved up and down against him, totally under his control.

Relief finally came when Gideon forced her head back with the hand over her mouth. He stroked in hard twice and then ground hard against her. She shattered, her entire body throbbing and convulsing in his tight hold.

When she recovered, she found herself cradled in Gideon’s lap on a settee she hadn’t even noticed in the dim light. He’d even managed to right her clothing, but she could still feel his shaft, no longer rock hard, but still large and firm against her bare bottom.

“Lady Lewin was right. You are a gladiator.”

His deep-throated chuckle sent a frisson down her spine, but it was only an echo of the thrilling and sharp euphoria of a few minutes before.

“Does that mean you would have been the proper Roman lady who requested my services to stud?”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “They did not do that!”

“I assure you they did. High-ranking Roman women could pretty much do as they pleased. They were like men that way. And most of the time, the gladiator was happy to oblige. If the lady was pleased with him, she might intervene on his behalf and he wouldn’t have to fight in the arena again…although I believe men purchased gladiators with greater frequency.”

Amelia huffed a light laugh. “Well, of all people, I understand the men’s inclination to do so, but that they acted openly…”

“In ancient Rome, the sexual arts were not proscribed the way they are at present. One can only hope attitudes will shift once more in the future so people can be free to love as they are wont,” he said, nuzzling at her ear. “In the meantime, your gladiator serves his lady with discretion. I have my coach waiting on the other side of the garden wall. We can make our way through the adjoining passage and the back rooms of the house without much danger of being seen.”

“You certainly know this house well.”

He nodded, taking her hand to lead her out. “I was advised by a friend to become acquainted with the secrets of Mayfair homes before I went abroad. I practiced my intelligence gathering for the war department in these very ballrooms and in my clubs. What I learned served me well on the continent.”

With that, he led her to his coach, delivering her to her townhouse via the back alley. The kiss at the back garden door was brief, but he didn’t argue when she bid him goodnight. A little disappointed he’d let her go without a fight, she consoled herself with the lengths he was willing to go to while following the restrictions she’d imposed on their affair.

Of course, those restrictions hadn’t done much to quell the rumors about them. If an eccentric like Lady Lewin knew about them, then everyone did.

Amelia sighed unhappily and prepared for bed in her room before retiring to the empty staff quarters. She had been sleeping in Carlotta’s narrow little room for the past few weeks. It wasn’t the most comfortable of situations, but it made her feel more secure.

Gideon would laugh if he could see her in this rickety little bed. He certainly couldn’t join her here. Then again…

She fell asleep, remembering each of the inventive ways the earl had made love to her all over town. It would not be wise to underestimate him.

Loud knocking and footsteps played at the edge of her consciousness. Someone shook her by the arm. “Amelia, wake up!”

Groggily, she shifted and cracked her eyelids open. “Gideon? What are you doing here?”

Oh, dear God. Something had happened. “Is it Crispin? Or Mr. Clarke?” she asked, her heart in her mouth.

“No, they are meeting us at Flint House. Hurry, you need to get dressed.”

He tugged her out of the cot, his urgency propelling her up the stairs. Panic and the remnants of sleep jumbled her thoughts. It didn’t help that Gideon was acting as if they were under siege.

He had no weapon, but his massive body was alert and battle ready. He approached the window with caution, flattening himself against the wall to peek through the curtains at the garden below.

“Is someone there?” she asked anxiously. “What is going on?”

She had never seen Gideon behave this way. Frightened despite her resolve to remain calm, she fumbled with the buttons of her gown.

Gideon was silent so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. “Sir Clarence is dead.”

“What?”

“Clarke sent word just a few minutes ago. Sir Clarence was found dead in his townhouse less than an hour ago. Now hurry, we don’t have much time.”

Trembling, Amelia threw on the rest of her clothes and slipped her feet into a pair of kid half-boots. Gideon was taking her to his townhouse, but from there, they might end up anywhere.

“Was it there?” Had the demon been found?

“No. No one saw the murderer. Mrs. Spencer and the servants said Clarence retired to his study with a bottle of spirits. He was found a few hours later when he did not join his mistress upstairs.”

Gideon threw her cloak over her and tugged her downstairs to the kitchen door. “Could it have been an attack of apoplexy or his heart?” she asked

“No.”

Amelia’s breath stuttered. There was a wealth of meaning in that one syllable. She no longer wanted to know the details of how Sir Clarence had been found. Her imagination was more than up to the task.

Trying to block out the gruesome images, she reached for Gideon’s hand and held it tight.

“Do you think it will come after us?” she asked once they were in the privacy of his coach.

“On the contrary,” Gideon said, his shoulders dropping visibly in the moonlight filtering in from the window. “I think our problem is over. I had a talk with Clarence at one of his clubs a few days ago. I warned him against further action against you. I can only guess he took my threat to heart and called off his giant. The man must have been enraged over his dismissal—Sir Clarence has never been known for his diplomacy.”

Amelia’s mind struggled to keep up. Sir Clarence was dead. Gideon still didn’t believe the servant was supernatural in nature, but did that matter? If Sir Clarence had been involved—and his death certainly suggested as much—would this be the end of it?

“Where could the murderer be? Will it come for us?”

Gideon focused on her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, love. I know I’ve frightened you pulling you out of bed so abruptly. But it’s unlikely Sir Clarence’s henchman has stuck around. Even in the stews, a man of his size and description won’t blend in. He probably hied it out of London just after the murder.”

Amelia’s uncertainty must have been written all over her face because Gideon stepped across the coach to pull her into his side. “I really believe it is over my love. I would stake my life on it…and do you remember what you promised to do when the danger had passed?”

Shock held her immobile for a few seconds. He couldn’t be serious! “Gideon. There’s been a murder!”

He squeezed her hand. “And I’m not going to wait for you to finish mourning Sir Clarence to marry you.”

Her head drew back. “I will not mourn that man.”

His lips twisted with resignation. “I won’t either, not in my heart. But in public, I think we must given the circumstances.”

Gideon forestalled her diatribe with a raised hand. “There is more. The watch was summoned to the scene of the murder. And given the state of the body, there will be no question it was a murder. The news of my argument with Clarence is making the rounds at the clubs. I never intended to hide it, but truthfully, I did not foresee Sir Clarence’s death.”

Her blood chilled as she began to understand his meaning. “You believe you’ll be a suspect.” It wasn’t a question.

His shrug was infuriatingly casual. Did he not take this seriously? They could hang him for murder!

“They will tread carefully, of course, but it’s only a matter of time before they come to interview me. I don’t expect anything to come of it. I can account for my whereabouts to the minute. My title will help, but it’s still necessary for us to marry as soon as possible.”

“But why? There is no prohibition to marrying while in mourning. Aside from the impropriety, that is, which given what we’ve been doing the last few weeks, seems of little importance.”

He stroked her palm with his thumb. “Love, it’s only a matter of time before they draw you into this investigation as well. Despite my best efforts to quell the rumors, enough people have guessed you are the reason behind my quarrel with Clarence. And I’m not going let anyone near you until you are the Countess of Flint, with all the dignity and protection that position affords.”

Amelia scoffed. “I don’t need that kind of protection! You’re the one who will be implicated in the murder—unless you’re willing to explain about the giant.”

Gideon eyed her cautiously. “We’ll tell the authorities enough to satisfy them, but I don’t think it’s wise to go into detail about the particulars, love, should they insist on speaking to you. In fact, leaving out all mention of demons and the occult would be best.”

She bit her lip. He was correct. They would think she was mad…

The carriage arrived at Flint House. They exited in a flurry of movement, but she hesitated at the front door.

“Amelia.”

She looked up to meet his eyes in the moonlight. “Yes?”

“This is not the way I would have chosen to do this, but I do love you and I want you to be my wife.”

It felt as if the ground had given way underneath her. He smiled as he steadied her on her feet. “Please, say you will marry me…right now.”

“Now?” She looked at the door, and then back to him.

“Yes. Clarke and Crispin are waiting with the minister.”

“But the banns—”

“I have a special license. I’ve had one for weeks.”

“Oh.”

Gideon held out his hand. Amelia stared at it for a long moment. Breathing deeply, she took it with both of her own. She walked into the house with him, into her future.