Evan wondered how much progress he’d made in evoking passion in Lady Susanah. He’d taught her to waltz, but her touches seemed tentative. Yet her steps grew more and more precise, the same way they were at any society ball. He had his suspicions that she was counting under her breath. And he was slowly going mad. Because in spite of himself, the freedom to have his arm around her in places had him noticing the litheness of her form. Knowing he could take her away and have his way—mostly have his way—with her had his blood heating. Except she was resuming the mantle of her usual restraint. Or maybe it wasn’t restraint, but that she didn’t enjoy dancing, the music, or his touch. Maybe she was too proper to enjoy anything.

“Are you enjoying the waltzing…darling?”

She wasn’t looking his way and seemed to have to peel her gaze away from something. “It is a very pleasant dance,” she said without an ounce of enthusiasm. She paused as if giving him an encouraging smile, but her eyes didn’t crinkle.

The damn mask hid her lips from him and he didn’t like that her eyes never smiled. He didn’t know if he’d realized how infrequently she actually truly smiled before now. He supposed, like many, he was half fooled by the perpetual tilt of her lips.

“Should we dance together so long? It doesn’t seem right,” she said.

Maddening chit. “Would you like to rest?”

Her gaze darted to his. “I’m fine if you want to continue dancing.” Her gaze slid away to other couples on the floor. “I was just remarking that I could never be with one partner so long ordinarily.”

Or so exclusively. He wanted to grind his teeth. She was offering the same banal conversation she would offer at a ball. She’d remarked on the decorations, the weather, and the costumes. He’d had far more interesting conversations with her in the corridor and in the stairwell. “Perhaps you’d like to dance with the harlequin.”

Although harlequin might be overstating the costume as it was just a diamond patterned domino. She watched as the man slid his hand over his partner’s breasts while they were executing their turn. He’d been doing it every time they circled. The woman laughed.

Susanah gasped, and then said, “I think not.”

He could have offered to dance more like the harlequin, but there was an appalled note to her voice. In an uncharacteristic moment, she stumbled.

Evan steadied Susanah. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her here. Perhaps it was too much for a virginal, young lady. He glanced in the direction that seemed to occupy her attention and his heart froze. Was that the Marquess of Weatdon?

“That man looks very like my father,” she whispered.

“It isn’t,” he lied. He had to get her out of the same room. He steered her to the edge of the floor and moved to tuck her hand in his arm. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“We shouldn’t leave in the middle of the music,” she said.

“The rules don’t apply here.” He half wanted to throttle her. She was so proper, it would take a lot to jar her out of her rigid behavior. “You need to relax.”

Then again, telling her to relax wouldn’t help. He was mildly grateful she didn’t point that out.

Obviously, he hadn’t hit on a pastime that excited her. Cracking through her fastidious comportment might take more than a little effort. Knowing what inspired her would help, but she kept him at arm’s length with her controlled bland answers.

As he steered her toward the refreshment room, she seemed far more interested in the dancers than in him. A woman in a diaphanous gown with no discernible undergarments swept by them. Susanah gasped and turned to gawk at the woman completely stopping their progress. He put his hand on Susanah’s head and turned it in his direction.

“She’s nearly naked,” whispered Susanah.

“Well, she is here to pedal her wares,” he said. “And display them. Are you shocked?”

She tightened her grip on his arm. “Did you bring me here to shock me?”

“No. I brought you here to dance because it is the only place I could bring you to dance under the rules you’ve laid out.”

“I see.”

Did she? He pulled her into the mostly vacant refreshment room where a single footman stood behind a table with an open champagne bottle and glasses. “I mistook dancing as something that you might enjoy.”

“But I do enjoy it,” Susanah protested. “I am enjoying it.”

“You sound as though you are making quite an effort at convincing yourself of that. It appears you don’t have any great love of it.”

“I don’t understand. Am I not doing the steps correctly?”

“Too correctly.”

“How is it possible to do something too correctly? Or should I be encouraging”—her chin dipped and her whisper shrank to almost nothing—“improper touches?”

“Only if you want to be touched so.”

Her chin dipped even further. “I thought you were to teach me…such things.” On a puff of air, she added, “Passion.”

“Passion, my darling, is something you must find within yourself. It is not merely going through the motions of offering up your body.” He held up two fingers to the footman, who promptly poured two glasses.

Susanah glanced in the servant’s direction as if just noticing the man. “We shouldn’t be talking so in front of him…” she whispered sternly.

Evan took the glasses and moved to a far corner of the room where they sat at one of the abandoned tables. Whatever supper had been served had been before their arrival. The food had long since been cleared away.

Perhaps she would have been passionate about the food. Or the puddings. He absently wondered if Susanah liked sweets, but he suspected not. There was certainly no indication of indulging on her figure. If anything, she was rather slim, which certainly suited the fashions of the day. “He won’t guess who you are, and if he did, he wouldn’t say anything.”

A boisterous group entered the room. Amidst laughter and ribald comments, they fortified themselves with champagne—clearly not for the first time. It was a late enough hour that the company had thinned, although the revelries would continue for some hours yet. He recognized several of the men and moved his chair so his back was to them. With any luck, they would drink their wine and leave. Thank the Lord, her father wasn’t among them.

Susanah leaned toward him and said, “The scandal sheets get their information somewhere. My mother says it is best never to give a servant fodder for gossip.”

A twinge of sympathy cut through his impatience. “So do you spend every moment being perfectly behaved?”

Her gaze jerked to his as if the group behind him had caught her attention. “It is my duty to behave as I ought.”

“Yet, you are shirking your duty tonight.” He touched her arm above her glove.

She pulled her arm away so quickly her champagne sloshed out of her glass. Then she stared at her arm as if it had somehow offended her. He had no idea if she regretted pulling away or her reactions were so ingrained she didn’t know how to not pull away. He nearly rolled his eyes at his folly. He should take her retreats at face value. A woman who wanted to be touched didn’t retreat hastily at every touch. She hadn’t leaned that last little bit into a kiss in the stairwell, either.

“Who is the abbess, Cooper?” asked one of the men. “Does she have any friends?”

“She’s a nun, not an abbess.” At the last minute Evan decided not to address the man by his title—although he knew quite well it was the Viscount of Hull.

Susanah’s eyes widened. No doubt she knew him too. Hull hadn’t even bothered with a mask.

Evan silently prayed for him to go away.

“Hello, love. You could come with me. I’m worth far more than Cooper is.” His hand reached out toward Susanah’s mask. “I could give you real jewels not paste as you’re like to get from him.”

Evan slapped his hand away. “She’s all mine. If you need a woman of your own, go find a real abbess. I’m certain there are one or two about.”

“Haven’t seen you here before,” Hull said.

Evan stiffened. He didn’t usually bother attending these events because he wasn’t in the market for a mistress—or at least not one who would require him to support her in style. The women here wanted providers not merely lovers. “I attend on occasion.”

“Or you.” Hull was no longer looking at him but focused on Lady Susanah. “What ho?” His gaze swung back to Evan’s. “Tell me you didn’t bring a lady here.”

Evan rose and stood between the viscount and Lady Susanah, wondering what had clued in the man. Maybe that he never attended balls like these.

“You like me slip’ers, gov?” Susanah said in a fairly credible cockney accent as she wrapped her arms around Evan’s waist. “Saw them in a window of a secon’hand shop and ’e bought ’em for me….sir.”

Evan’s lips twitched as he watched the other man’s eyes narrow as he tried to decipher Susanah’s identity. Clearly, Hull wasn’t buying the accent, but he hadn’t placed her either. Evan twisted and reached over her head to wrap his arm around her and bring her into a frontal embrace. Hell, if she was going to hug him, he would enjoy it—even if it was only an act on her part.

“I’ve seen those shoes before.” Hull’s eyes narrowed. “Not on Mrs. Barnet, either.”

“Bad form, Hull.” Evan reached over Susanah and gave the other man a playful push, which made Hull list before catching himself. “Now leave us, while I explain Mrs. Barnet meant nothing to me.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” Hull gave a mocking bow and left to return to his friends with a loud, “He’s got a new lady friend.”

Evan let out a slow sigh and then squeezed Susanah.

She, of course, pushed away from him. “How does he know I’m a lady?” she whispered fiercely. “Aside from my shoes.”

“Because I’m not know for consorting with East End harlots,” he whispered. “Nor would one be allowed in here—unless of course, she’d refined her speech and manners.”

Her blue eyes looked wounded. “Oh. I suppose I panicked. I didn’t want him remembering my shoes.” She glanced over her shoulder as the group departed the room, all but one couple who were obviously too engrossed with each other to pay any mind to anyone else. “Do you think he knows who I am?”

“No.” He gathered her back in his arms although it was a bit like hugging a marble statue. Or a warm, breathing, marble statue. His blood was roaring through his veins, which didn’t make a lot of sense given her resistance. “It was a very credible accent.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” She stared at his chest or waistcoat. Somehow he didn’t think its pattern deserved such scrutiny.

“It is no matter. Lord Hull is a bit bosky and he probably won’t remember enough details to matter.”

“What if he does figure out who I am?”

“No one would believe it.” Surely, Hull wouldn’t give the woman Evan brought a second thought. “Is he on your list of potential husbands?”

Her gaze jerked up to his. Finally. “He was.”

“Was?” echoed Evan faintly. The surge of triumph he felt was not warranted but knowing that didn’t stop it. He shouldn’t want to eliminate her potential suitors. It wasn’t as though he could marry her. “You can’t hold his attendance here against him. You would never know of it, in the ordinary course of events.”

“But I can’t have him figure it out either.”

“He won’t.” Even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything. Although, if Hull learned she wasn’t so proper after all, it might stir his interest in her. Evan didn’t want Hull to be interested in her, although he wasn’t a bad sort.

Susanah squinted at him. “Did Mrs. Barnet really mean nothing to you?”

Evan didn’t know how to answer that. He hesitated.

Susanah plucked at his waistcoat lapel. “I know you don’t kiss and tell, but that would imply you did kiss her.”

“Let us say that upon closer acquaintance, she was not who I thought she was.”

Susanah pushed back and said, “I see.”

But he really didn’t think she did. And strangely he wanted to explain, although that would mean betraying Theresa’s confidences. Since Susanah was trusting him with her reputation and her virtue, he couldn’t tell her the truth.

“I suppose it is good that you don’t form lasting attachments.”

Now that was patently unfair. But he had no defense. Because he wasn’t free to marry, he’d never sought permanence. But as if her observation hadn’t scorched him, he said mildly, “Affairs by their very nature are temporary things.”

* * *

After they returned to the carriage, Susanah watched Evan remove his domino and mask. She felt the strangest urge to reach across and smooth the red mark the edge of the mask had left on his forehead. Earlier when he’d stood holding her in his arms, something had happened. Her instinct to get away had eased and turned into a longing to be held the way he held her forever. There was a gentleness in his embrace, a sort of gentleness that she’d never experienced before. But she had to remind herself that he didn’t mean anything by it. He was a rake. The list of women he’d associated with was long. And by his own admission, his affairs were of short duration.

Not all affairs were short. Everyone knew of Emma Hamilton and Lord Nelson long-running affair of several years. Although as her husband didn’t object, perhaps that made a difference.

Susanah reached up to remove the nun’s wimple.

“Give it another block or two to be certain no one is following to see who you are.” Evan peered out the window as if watching for just such a complication.

Her hands dropped to her lap. When he’d taken the opposite seat she’d feared his sitting apart was a rejection. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d feared he was no longer interested in teaching her about passion. Had he’d taken the opposite seat so he could watch for followers?

More than once she’d thought he seemed impatient with her, and she hadn’t known why. She’d tried very hard to be congenial and go along with his scandalous plans for the evening. Of course, her thoughts about how the night would go weren’t any less scandalous.

Evan continued to look out the window as they swayed in the carriage. Surely he would join her on her side, once he ascertained no one was spying on them.

After a few minutes, he said, “I don’t see anyone following. I think your identity is safe, darling.”

“Thank you, your eminence.” She thought about pointing out that they could use their names. Although since she hadn’t given him leave to drop the Lady from her name, nor had she addressed him as Evan, to do so now seemed awkward. Of course, if he was taking her to his rooms to teach her passion, she should give him leave to address her more intimately—at least while they were private.

Once he kissed her and perhaps touched her as she’d seen some of the other men doing with the demi-reps at the masquerade, they could hardly be on a formal basis. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of the intimacies she’d seen at the ball. That she and Evan might soon be engaged in similar behavior made her breath catch. Evan had tried to block her from seeing the woman who’d thrown her leg over a man’s lap like mounting a horse, but she couldn’t look away from it. The woman had been moving as if riding. And the other woman wearing a completely transparent gown—Susanah’s cheeks fired. Not only that, but more than one woman’s gown had slipped enough to expose her nipples if not an entire breast as if to encourage the men to touch them there. Would Evan fondle her bosom?

Susanah fought the urge to cross her arms and wondered why her breasts were tingling. Then she remembered how dangerously close his thumbs had been to them when he lifted her to tear her gown. Not that her chest was all that impressive.

Trying to ignore the riot of sensation in her body, she removed the veil and then untied the coif.

Just as she was reaching to untie the mask, Evan lifted her foot from the floor, his hand around her ankle.

She jerked her leg back, but Evan’s hold was firm as if he expected her reaction. She’d reacted the same way when he’d touched her arm very near her scar from when she’d broken the bone. He probably hadn’t even realized, but she didn’t like anyone noticing the unsightly dimple and discoloration.

“I can see why Hull remembered your slippers. They are pretty.” He set her foot in his lap. “I’m sorry, but you can’t wear them again.”

“No matter. I have others.” She sat the mask beside her and tried to ignore how awkward having her ankle held was. Did he mean to do some version of what that woman had been doing at the Cyprian’s ball? Her heart was doing its own version of a waltz.

“Are your others similar?” He traced the flowers that ran along her instep and over her toes. Her toes curled and she fought to straighten them.

With his distracting touch, she didn’t think too much before she said, “I embroidered different patterns on different pairs.”

His finger stopped moving and he looked up at her.

Uncomfortable that she’d admitted to doing her own embroidery on her shoes instead of paying someone to do it, she said, “You will get chalk on your…” She gestured toward his unmentionables because a lady didn’t speak about a man’s lower half. But they would be in each other’s arms shortly, she shouldn’t be so missish. “…your breeches.”

“No matter. I have others.” He gave her a lazy grin.

She did her best to return it, but the slippers were bothering her. If Mr. Hull did remember her slippers, she was in trouble. Her mother had insisted they were too garish, the flowers too bold. She should have heeded her mother’s warning, but she’d thought wearing her favorite pair would give her confidence. It wasn’t like she expected anyone other than Evan to see them.

His fingers slipped up the ribbons that crossed around her ankle and calf holding the slipper in place. Sharp tingles traveled up her leg and seemed to burst like fireworks when they hit where her leg joined her body. The sensation lingered in that place, her woman’s place. Maybe it was supposed to.

He pressed her sole against his palm, set her foot back on the floor, and then leaned back in his seat. Slouched, really. “Do you like to embroider?”

Fighting off her disappointment that he didn’t join her on her seat, she shrugged diffidently. “It is a proper occupation for a lady.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What pursuits do you find pleasurable?”

The question stumped her. What difference did it make? Her activities were what they should be, whether she found them pleasurable or not. As the daughter of a marquess, she had an obligation to behave in a manner that was dictated by social customs, history, and duty. “Sir?”

He tilted his head and sat up. “What is it you enjoy doing? What makes you smile?”

“I smile all the time. I take pleasure in good company, in…in dancing…” She didn’t know what to say as he shook his head at her. “What do you mean, no?”

“You don’t smile. You simper.”

She took a deep breath, appalled. She simpered? Why hadn’t her mother told her? She told her everything else Susanah did wrong. She needed to practice more if he thought she was simpering. She put a hand over her mouth afraid that the slight curl she tried to wear on her lips was something different from what she thought it was.

“You don’t smile with your eyes,” he said. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

Her thoughts were swirling in confusion. What did he mean she didn’t smile with her eyes? Her eyes were what they were. She whispered, “It isn’t ladylike to laugh.”

“What lunatic told you that?” he demanded.

“My mother.” She stared at him feeling cold and confused. “Do you mean my eyes don’t sparkle? I mean they are as much gray as blue, I think. I wish they were a prettier color.”

He laughed.

She shouldn’t have said that. Envy wasn’t becoming. Although she hadn’t actually named anyone whom she envied their beautiful eyes, she had a long list. All the belles to start with. Even Annabelle with her dark eyes. Susanah coiled tight, sitting straighter if that were possible. But she pretended her spine was an iron rod, unbendable, because what else could she do? She shouldn’t reveal so much about herself because he would be repulsed.

He reached across and almost touched her face, but her flinch must have made him think better. He put his hand on her shoulder instead. “You have lovely eyes, sweetheart. I think they have a touch of lavender.”

“Thank you,” came out almost by rote. One was always supposed to thank a gentleman for a compliment. Although because she half wondered if he were color blind, she added, “You are too kind.” But then because he had tilted closer and she couldn’t think straight when he could be planning on kissing her, she blurted out, “You have remarkable eyes.”

His mouth worked as if he wanted to laugh at her. “The color of the Thames at high tide and low.”

“Changeable,” she said.

“Inconstant,” he teased.

“I suppose that suits you.”

He put a hand to his chest and fell back once again sprawling against the squabs in a careless manner. “You wound me.”

She stiffened. “I’m sorry. I did not mean…”

He grinned and her apology trailed off.

Heat rose in her face and she was thankful the carriage lamps weren’t so bright that it would be obvious.

She stared down at her gloves and wondered if her mother would object if she added a bit of gold scrollwork around the tops. Because it wouldn’t do to try and decipher the word games he was trying to play with her. She often thought about such mundane things to regain her composure when it fled.

“You blush prettily, but you shouldn’t avoid my gaze so much.” His eyes crinkled just a little bit around the edges. “Especially not if you like my eyes.”

She looked up and wished she could see what color they were at the moment, but the carriage drew to a halt throwing her into a fresh confusion.

She wanted to learn how to make a man adore her. And more and more she just wanted to experience Evan’s touch, his kisses, and his passion.

He pulled out the key to her house. “Time to get you home, my lady.”

“We are done?” she cried out. She squeezed her eyes shut ashamed of the plaintive whine in her voice. A lady never expressed her displeasure in such a tone. She shouldn’t express displeasure at all—except possibly to a servant who’d failed to perform as they ought. But not in a whine. When she opened her eyes, Evan was watching her intently, his hand on the door latch.

“We still have to walk around the corner and down the block to your home,” he said gently. “We still have time for you to tell me what you are passionate about, so I might develop a plan for our next outing.”

She almost sagged in relief. “You do plan to teach me about passion, still?”

“Of course,” he said easily. He opened the door and helped her down into the predawn darkness. After they’d walked a few feet from the carriage, he added, “Unless you feel you have learned enough to land a husband.”

She didn’t feel as though she actually learned anything. Well, except it was quite nice when he held her. She supposed there was too little time left before dawn to start their passion lessons in earnest. Perhaps he meant to go gently as he likely did when seducing a young matron. Perhaps he meant to kiss her before leaving. Her heart did a flip. “I did enjoy learning to waltz. Thank you for teaching me.”

“Did you enjoy it? Be honest.”

“I just said I did.”

“But would you not say the same thing even if you hated it?”

“I didn’t hate it,” she protested. She wondered if she should tell him that she enjoyed it when he held her after Lord Hull tried to guess her identity, but she didn’t think she could.

He drew in a deep breath and then said, “Tell me what would you do if you knew the world would end tomorrow.”

“That is a strange question,” she said carefully. The idea that she would do anything different baffled her. Although she supposed she wouldn’t worry so much about landing a husband.

“It is. How would you spend your last hours?”

She considered a few seconds. “Praying, I suppose.”

Her answer seemed to take him aback. “Are you particularly pious?”

“No. That is why I would need to pray. Otherwise what chance would I have of Saint Peter letting me pass through the pearly gates?”

He snorted.

“I wasn’t trying to be amusing.” But after a second she realized why it must have sounded funny and felt her lips twitch.

Evan stopped and turned toward her. “You’re smiling. You do know how.”

“I’ll stop,” she said and tried to erase the expression from her face, but it wouldn’t leave. Perhaps she was getting silly because it was so late—or it was just relief that he hadn’t given up on her.

But then the fog thinned and she could see her house just a few steps away. She sobered. “I don’t believe we have any entertainments scheduled Sunday evening.” They almost never did anything Sunday, unless it was to have the minister to dinner. “I will have to check with Mother about the rest of next week.”

“I’ll be waiting Sunday night half past eleven.” He bent near her.

His face was close and she waited for him to kiss her. Surely he would begin her lessons in passion with a kiss. His hand came toward her face and she reacted pulling her head back.

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. Then he straightened, his hand falling to her shoulder and squeezing. “You should go in.”

“Will you not kiss me?” she asked. Then she was appalled that she had asked him to kiss her. What kind of woman asked a man to kiss her? Her ears grew hot and her face grew hotter. She snatched the key from his hand and inserted it in the lock, turning her back to him intent on escaping. Why oh why would she ask such a thing?