By the time the first strains of the final waltz sounded, Theo was certain her heart would explode. Caught between her earlier indignation and an inexplicable fear, she had to force her slippered feet to remain rooted to the parquet floor of the ballroom as Stonemere approached.

“I believe the final waltz belongs to me, Lady Theodora.” He offered a stiff bow over her gloved hand and then tucked it into his arm as he escorted her to the dance floor.

“Yes, my lord.” She hated the uncertain breathiness of her response. He turned her into his arms so his hand rested against her upper back, searing her flesh through the interminable layers of fabric. Without conscious thought, her spine stiffened and her nipples pebbled as they pressed against the confinement of her corset. Heat suffused her face, leaving her to wonder if her cheeks would be in a perpetual state of pinkness.

Her partner studied her with an uncomfortable intensity. “Is anything amiss, my lady?”

“No, not at all.” She uttered the shameless fib as she attempted to regain control of her physical and emotional reaction. Everything was wrong. She was betrothed to a man who was all but indifferent to whether or not she took her next breath, he had a scandalous reputation for being a Lustful Lord, had proved to be overbearing to an oppressive degree—and they had yet to even wed—and her body reacted to him in the most confounding fashion.

“Well, then. As you indicated earlier this evening that you had some interest in an outing or two so that we may have an opportunity to become better acquainted, I took the liberty of gaining your father’s permission to take you driving Sunday at five.”

Why she should have been shocked was hard to say, but Theo ceased dancing in order to comprehend how utterly totalitarian her future husband appeared to be. Anchored in place by her sudden stop, he cursed as another couple crashed into them. “I beg your pardon. The lady seems to be feeling faint.”

He then turned and dragged her from the dance floor. “My lord,” she hissed as he towed her to the closest balcony. “Stonemere!” she tried again, louder.

The cool night air swept over her sweltering flesh, causing goose pimples to ripple over her skin. He hauled her around, putting his back to the open doorway, and pressed her crinoline-draped bottom against the balustrade. “Explain yourself.”

Heavy hands rested on her upper arms, a most effective means of dashing any hope that she might escape. Inner turmoil wreaked havoc with the frayed threads of her ability to reason, which in turn made forming a response impossible. “I-I…”

When had she developed a stutter? This man infuriated her. He ran roughshod over her and all her plans. He made her pulse race and her body flash hot and cold, with little rhyme or reason. How could she ever marry him?

“Please, explain whatever the issue is that drove you to a complete stop in the middle of a ballroom.” His eyes were lost in the shadows, even as the lights of the soiree illuminated him from behind.

Her anger surged to the fore. Very well, if he wanted to know, she would be happy to oblige. “You, sir, are intolerable.”

His eyebrows shot up. Could his lip have quivered?

“Please elaborate.” His neutral tone slashed at the frazzled edges of her temper.

She drew herself up to her full five-foot-seven-inch stature. She had never considered herself a shrewish woman, but this man pushed her beyond all bounds of reason. Social niceties be damned! “You are an insufferable, pompous, overbearing lout. I shall not be bullied into showing you my ledgers, nor into taking a drive with you at your whim. I may be female, but I have both the intelligence to manage my investments and a schedule to keep.” In a huff, she pushed his shoulder and attempted to break his hold to make good her escape.

---

Stone was so stunned by the previously shy and remote woman’s sudden and thorough about-face that he bloody near let her slip away. Instead, he reached out and clasped her wrist in his hand. All momentum lost, she came to a halt but refused to turn and face him. Was this brazenness what he had sensed earlier beneath her typical bland façade? Her defiance sparked his interest as nothing else could have. “We are not quite finished, Lady Theodora. Do stay a moment more.”

Rebellion was familiar territory for him, a known quantity. And hers was easily controlled. Without relinquishing his hold on her, he circled around to further block her escape. His gaze snared hers as surprise—or perhaps wariness—caused her eyes to widen and her breath to grow choppy. As her breasts heaved against her bodice in protest, he took a step toward her. She countered his advance and retreated to maintain the space between them.

With each step, the shadows slowly swallowed them until they were as good as alone. Pressed once again to the balustrade, she had nowhere else to go. He stopped with little more than a sliver of air between them. In some places, her gown eliminated the space altogether.

“My lord, what are you about?” Her voice trembled, betraying her uncertainty.

“I have done nothing but seek to ensure you are well cared for, and to accede to your wishes.” The soft puffs of her mint-laced breath teased his skin and caused his nostrils to flare, as though seeking more of her sweet scent. The reins of his control drew tight. Damn women and their fastidious ways. “I am curious about your business dealings—intrigued by the notion of a woman in business, particularly a lady—and wish to see how you’ve fared. If there is nothing amiss, I plan to let you continue as you see fit.”

“Oh.” The lack of trust evident in her stilted gaze cut him to the quick, though he knew the reaction to be outright ridiculous. When had he become such a nodcock?

“As for the outing, we have so little time, I assumed an expedient result was desired. I am, after all, a decisive man. It comes from long years of military training.” There, a reminder for them both that he was the one in command.

Her gaze dipped. “My apologies, my lord.”

Her acquiescence, simple and elegant as it was after such fiery defiance, ignited a conflagration of need deep within his loins that obliterated rational thought, along with the infinitesimal kernel of concern for propriety that he had heretofore retained. Without warning, the reins of his control slipped from his fingers like the fog wafting across a battlefield. Without hesitation, he hauled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

The softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the zing of citrus and roses teased his nose, and the sweetness of mint from her lips all conspired to inflame him. His cock hardened, though her skirts shielded his evident interest. His tongue drove past her lips to tangle with hers. He explored the warm recesses of her mouth as she clung to him. A soft whimper escaped her when he pulled back to nibble on her plump lower lip.

Without warning, something akin to interest rushed through him in a startling flood. An inexplicable need to sink into her body, command her responses, and have her at his mercy rocked him. He broke from her heat and stepped back even as his breath heaved.

Fresh air swept through his desire-induced haze and cleared his head. Another deep inhale allowed him to slow his heartbeat. And a third gulp restored some semblance of his discipline. He fisted the reins of his control once more as his heart pounded a steady tattoo in his chest. What might have come next had he continued to kiss her? This woman could only be described as a detriment to his well-being.

“Stonemere?” The sound of his name on her lips threatened his tenuous grip. She must think him a candidate for Bedlam with his wild swings in behavior.

“Lady Theodora, my most abject apologies for such uncouth behavior. I assure you there will not be a repeat of these actions.” He bowed and reached for her arm.

The lady stepped back in a swish of skirts. “Whyever not?”

Shocked by her question, Stone stared at her, mesmerized as her eyes flashed in defiance, but then the spark fizzled out. He remained mute in the face of her curiosity. There was no good answer to her question. No clear way to return things to the cool civility from before their first waltz. “Consider our drive canceled. I believe I shall depart.”

She swept him with a gaze dappled by confusion. “As you wish, my lord.”

Stone led her through the ballroom back to her mother, collected his cloak, and called for his carriage. A smidge past midnight, according to his pocket watch, left him ample time to retreat to The Market for drinks and cards. With any luck, he would forget the last half hour on the Devonses’ balcony. But, what of Theodora? Would she forget?

---

Stone relaxed, sans mask, in the main salon of The Market. The Lustful Lords had never bothered to wear the ubiquitous disguises most patrons donned. It hardly seemed worth it when, despite the many masks, it was easy enough to identify the likes of the Marquess of Swinton and the Earl of Thorpe, among many others. A flash of brilliant blue caught his eye as Madame Celeste de Pompadour, styled after the famous Madame de Pompadour, floated across the room to settle on the arm of the chair he currently sprawled upon.

“My lord, may we entice you to enjoy some of our offerings this evening?” Her big blue eyes studied his every flicker.

“Madame, you know very well I am merely here to escape the virtuousness of Society, sadly no longer to be enticed by your establishment’s many charms.” He swirled his scotch and then took a large draft of the liquor. “My fiancée and I are making a go of it.” He raised his glass in a semblance of a salute. A go of it? He must be mad. He needed to stay far away from that troublesome baggage, but how could he do that once they were married?

“If I may be so bold, my lord… There are pleasures to be had within that would leave you with a clear enough conscience.” Celeste leaned into him, her many charms on display.

The scent of roses wafted over him, teased him, but he was unwilling to relent. His honor demanded a higher standard than even Society expected. “I am afraid I am well and truly burdened by my conscience. I shall imbibe good spirits, enjoy the jovial company, and perhaps risk a bit of blunt. But I shall not disgrace my future bride with flagrant acts of infidelity.”

“And yet you sit in my notorious establishment, unmasked.” Celeste tipped her head with a gentle lift of her brows.

“I did say flagrant acts of infidelity. I did not say I would refrain from all entertainments to be had in Society, polite or otherwise.” He forced all expression from his face as he met his hostess’s pointed stare. Besides, he was having grave doubts about his marriage to Theodora being a friendly alliance, if for no other reason than he was not sure he could control the beast within.

“Very well, my lord. You know Phillipe is at your disposal should you decide to make any other arrangements.” She rose and greeted a group of young randy bucks who sounded well into their cups, not to mention more likely to part with their blunt in the pursuit of fleshly pleasures.

“Stonemere, I see you once again tempt our enticing Madame de Pompadour.”

Cooper slapped him on the shoulder.

“Is it not to be expected? I am the most enticing of us all.” Stone tossed back the last of his drink and rose with a chuckle. “Where are we tonight?”

“Upstairs. We thought a private game was in order along with some…company.”

“The cards sound good. You know my stance on the rest, Cooper.” He quirked a brow at his longtime friend and confidant.

“I do, indeed. Eventually you will have to sort things out on that score. In the meantime, the rest of us can still have a bit of fun. We remain unshackled, and with few prospects of such a dire fate.”

Upstairs, the five of them sat at a card table with one of the ladies acting as a dealer for a game of vingt-et-un. Stone soon found himself winning heavily, while each of his compatriots became more and more distracted by the delectable ladies in their laps. As the couples paired off around the room to indulge in more pleasurable pursuits, Stone collected his winnings, intending to make his escape.

He glanced back as Cooper hooked the necktie laced around a redhead’s wrists over a hook in the wall. In the blink of an eye, Stone had replaced the sultry redhead with a certain starchy blonde with big blue eyes. Where the deuce had such an image come from?

Where the image originated didn’t matter as his cock hardened and need swept over him like the rush of war. With a groan, he opened his trousers, pushed his shirt up, and pulled his aching length free. A fist wrapped around his cock, he watched as Cooper knelt between the woman’s thighs and worked her clit until her first orgasm burst through her. Stone stroked, imagining doing the same thing to the woman who seemed to be dominating more of his thoughts than she should. But as Cooper pushed his cock into the strung-up redhead, it was far too easy to imagine slipping into Theodora, feeling her heat engulf him as he stretched her body to accommodate his. He stroked faster, working his shaft as he closed his eyes and let his imagination finish the job.

His heart pounded as his fantasy version of Theodora screamed her climax, and he pumped faster into his fist until he too came with a low groan. He surfaced from the fantasy to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and his own seed covering his stomach. With a few jerks of his necktie, he was able to clean up and decided it was time to go. Dread of the long nighttime hours that remained drew his focus as he departed.

A short while later, he settled into his favorite chair with a generous portion of brandy and a roaring fire for company. He watched the flames dance about as they licked the dry wood, a hungry devouring force. He nursed his brandy, having learned long ago that too much alcohol left him incapacitated, and not enough alcohol allowed the dreams to filter in. As in life, maintaining a delicate balance would see him through the night.

The warmth of the brandy paired with the fire to lull him into a drowsy stupor that soon led him to sleep.

He traipsed through the blackness until the glow of a flame drew his gaze. His heart twisted as he suddenly found his shirt sucked to his chest, soaked from the chill water of the river while the eerie glow of burning boats lit up the dark, early-morning sky.

Bullets sailed into the water as women screamed and men cried out in agony. Then a hand reached out of the horror and latched onto him. An unfamiliar face, but a soldier as well, the stranger searched the bodies for survivors. It appeared he was the first survivor found by the soldier. Together they made their way into the deep grasses along the bank and hid.

Stone clung to the unknown soldier as the horror unfolded around them. Helpless. Beyond control. A coppery tang hung in the air and blended with the musky odor of rotting vegetation. The dawn sky dripped a hideous red as the wretched sounds of death echoed and magnified, even as blood flowed all around. With each hack of a sepoy blade, another scream rose into the cacophony until Stone wished he, too, was dead.

A cry rent the air and jerked him awake. With a sleep-fogged sweep of the room, he found the fire had burned to coals in the predawn dark and his brandy glass lay on its side on the rug. His shirt clung to him, a sweat-soaked second skin that sent a shiver through his form as the cool air skimmed over him.

After setting his toppled glass on the sideboard, he trudged up to his room. Most nights were bearable, but when he had a bad night, he found little in the way of comfort or rest. Tonight was obviously going to be a bad night. And the unrest seemed directly related to his bride-to-be. Could he marry someone who stirred his personal demons so thoroughly? Someone who tempted him so mercilessly? Made him want things no sane man should want from his wife?