Nora’s heart had been racing at the outset of the tea this afternoon. This was her first official foray into Society, and she’d worried about how people might react when they saw her again. So far, however, things had gone swimmingly. In fact, she hadn’t expected Lady Satterfield to include her quite so…robustly. As a paid companion, she’d expected to help serve tea or ensure that no one was excluded from conversation. Instead, Lady Satterfield had introduced her to everyone who arrived. It had felt—just a bit—like her first Season.

Except she was ten years older and far wiser. She hoped.

Lady Satterfield interrupted Nora’s thoughts by introducing her to a new arrival, Lady Dunn. Past middle age with dark gray hair swept into an elegant style, Lady Dunn raised her quizzing glass and surveyed Nora from the top of her head to the tip of her shoe. “I remember you, gel.”

Nora braced herself for what might come next. So far no one had come out and said whether they recalled who Nora was. And Nora didn’t remember Lady Dunn.

Lady Satterfield opened her mouth, but Lady Dunn spoke first. “It’s good that you came back.”

It was? Nora felt a surge of relief and smiled.

Lady Dunn lowered her glass. “Come and sit with me for a few minutes.” She led Nora to an empty settee.

Nora glanced at Lady Satterfield, who nodded encouragingly.

Lady Dunn sat on the pale gold brocade and patted the space next to her.

Nora dropped down beside her. She had the sense Lady Dunn wanted to impart some bit of wisdom or advice.

“You’re a brave young lady,” Lady Dunn said without preamble. “I recall precisely what trouble you found however many years ago that was, and I can only hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Nora wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s candor. On the one hand, it was comforting to have things out in the open, but on the other, she felt more vulnerable than she had all day. “Yes, my lady. Quite.”

Lady Dunn nodded her head in one sharp bob of acknowledgment. Her gaze surveyed the room, then arrested. Her lips parted. “My goodness. The Forbidden Duke.” Her tone was soft, almost breathy.

Nora followed Lady Dunn’s line of sight and ended up at…the Duke of Kendal, Lady Satterfield’s stepson. She looked at Lady Dunn. “The who?”

Lady Dunn blinked at Nora as if she’d grown a second head. “The Duke of Kendal. Surely you know that, since you are Lady Satterfield’s companion.” She pursed her lips together. “However, I suppose you wouldn’t hear what’s said about him from his stepmother.”

Nora shouldn’t want to hear what was said about him at all. She was trying to behave in the most exemplary fashion possible—no gossip, no scandal. Still, she was dying to know why he was forbidden.

Their brief meeting had intrigued her. He was devastatingly attractive with black hair and piercing green eyes, and he’d looked at her with…interest. Or something. There had been a hint of heat in his gaze, which she’d recognized from her experience with Haywood. She ought to run screaming in the other direction, but she sensed that he possessed something Haywood hadn’t: self-control. “Why is he called that?” She immediately wished she could take the question back. She’d always been far too curious—and unable to keep her curiosity to herself.

Lady Dunn leaned forward slightly, displaying a keen interest in this topic. “Because he doesn’t engage in Society, and he doesn’t socialize. He holds himself apart. He isn’t seen, he isn’t approached, and he isn’t spoken to.”

He sounded like the quintessential Untouchable. She sneaked a look at him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his thick hair waving back from his wide forehead. She could only see his profile, but his chin was square and his lips supple.

Supple?

“Why is he here, then?” Despite her brain telling her to cease pursuit of this topic, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“I was hoping you could tell me, dear,” Lady Dunn said with an edge of humor. “Perhaps he’s on the hunt for his dance partner for Lady Satterfield’s ball. It’s the only event he goes to during the Season, and he always dances just once—the first dance—with a very special, and very lucky, lady.”

Since Lady Dunn was so keen to share information, Nora gave up trying to quash her interest. “Special how?” she asked.

“She’s invariably someone in need of attention—a spinster, a widow, the youngest daughter who’s been forgotten after her elder sisters were married. His selection of her elevates her position.”

He might be an Untouchable, but he sounded like a bit of a hero too.

Nora darted another look in his direction and nearly slipped off the settee. He was staring right at her, and she swore the heat in his gaze had intensified, as if he’d spent the last hour simmering over by the windows. Nora felt distinctly warm. And not uncomfortably so.

He turned his attention back to the windows, breaking their eye contact. Nora dropped her gaze and studied the small flowers on her dress in an effort to right her suddenly sideways equilibrium.

Until she’d caught him looking at her, she would’ve said he seemed to have no awareness of the people in the drawing room. Perhaps he should be called the Aloof Duke instead. Or maybe even the Arrogant Duke. That wasn’t fair. She had no idea if he was arrogant. Perhaps he had a fear of social gatherings or people in general. Perhaps he was really the Skittish Duke. Or the Paranoid Duke. She smiled to herself, thinking she could amuse herself all day coming up with alternate names for him. The Detached Duke. Oh yes, that might fit quite nicely.

“Why are you smiling, gel?” Lady Dunn asked.

Startled from her ridiculous reverie, Nora blinked before turning to look at Lady Dunn. “I’m just enjoying myself. Are you? Is there anything you require?”

“Not at all. It’s time for me to be on my way. I should like to be the first to share the news of the Forbidden Duke’s appearance, and I’ve several more calls to make.” She held out her hand. “Help me up, dear.”

Nora jumped to her feet and assisted Lady Dunn to stand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Even though Lady Dunn was shorter than Nora, she was somehow able to convey the effect of looking down her nose. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Miss Lockhart. I’ve decided to like you. Do not disappoint me.” She winked before taking herself off to bid farewell to Lady Satterfield.

Nora considered how to ask Lady Satterfield about her stepson’s nickname. Later, after the tea, she’d simply tell her what Lady Dunn had said.

“Oh my goodness, is it really Miss Eleanor Lockhart?” The shrill question hit Nora’s ears like a screeching falcon.

She pivoted and had to quash the look of disgust that immediately rose to her face.

Of all the people she might’ve chanced upon today, did it have to be Susannah Weycombe? No, she was Lady Abercrombie now. She’d been betrothed shortly after Nora had left London, and Nora had read about her lavish wedding breakfast in the newspaper.

Lady Abercrombie wasn’t alone either. Another woman who’d taken great delight in Nora’s disgrace, Miss Dorothy Cranley, stood beside her. At least Nora thought it was Dorothy. This woman was perhaps two stone heavier.

Nora forced a tight smile. “Good afternoon, Lady Abercrombie.”

“You remember Dorothy—she’s Lady Kipp-Landon now,” Lady Abercrombie said.

“Yes, of course. A pleasure to see you both again.” It wasn’t, but Nora wouldn’t say what it really was.

“Whatever are you doing in London?” Lady Abercrombie asked, her brown eyes wide and full to the brim with guile.

Nora inclined her head toward their hostess. “I’m companion to Lady Satterfield.”

“How…charming,” Lady Kipp-Landon all but sniggered. “I suppose you’re just happy to be back.”

Nora schooled her features into a serene mask. Her irritation was pricked, but she wouldn’t give in to it. She couldn’t. “I am, thank you.”

Lady Kipp-Landon edged closer to Nora. “Is that the Forbidden Duke over by the window?”

Nora wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or to Lady Abercrombie, so she didn’t answer.

“It is,” Lady Abercrombie said, her tone hushed. She turned her head to Nora. “What is he doing here?”

Nora couldn’t think of what to say that wasn’t It’s none of your business. She blinked at both of them and said only, “It’s his stepmother’s tea.”

Lady Kipp-Landon fidgeted with her earring. “I’ve never seen him anywhere other than his stepmother’s ball.” She glanced at Lady Abercrombie. “Do you suppose he’ll be there?” The ball was in just a few days. “And will he dance?”

Lady Abercrombie nodded gently. “I expect so. He always does. One ball. One dance. One lucky lady who never hears from him again.” There was a wistfulness to her tone that wedged its way into Nora’s chest.

Thankfully, Lady Satterfield looked toward her and motioned for Nora to join her. Relieved for the interruption, Nora flashed an insincere smile at the harpies. “Please excuse me.”

“Certainly.” Lady Abercrombie tossed a smirk at her cohort. “We wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties.”

Nora circuited the furniture, which took her within a few feet of the duke. He’d turned his head toward her again. She nearly tripped under the weight of his gaze. There was something palpable about his presence, as if he were a lion in his den and had become aware of the prey within his grasp.

Nonsense, she told herself. But nonsense that made her shiver nonetheless.

The remainder of the tea passed quickly, and Nora was able to keep her attention focused on the guests and not on the Forbidden Duke. Rather, Kendal. In fact, as the last guest departed, she turned toward the window and saw that he was gone. She’d somehow missed him leaving. Pity.

Lady Satterfield closed the door to the drawing room and exhaled. “My goodness, what a crowd today! Especially at the end.”

Nora wondered if it was because word had spread that the Forbidden Duke was here.

The countess smiled at Nora. “How was it, dear? Are you exhausted?”

“Not terribly. It was a very pleasant afternoon.” Except for when her old “friends” had shown up.

“Good. I know we discussed how your past might come up, but I take it no one mentioned anything?”

“Actually, Lady Dunn was rather forthright concerning my…indiscretion.”

Lady Satterfield’s forehead pleated with concern. “I should have anticipated that and made sure you weren’t alone with her. My apologies.”

“It was fine. In fact, I rather liked her candor.” Nora considered her next words carefully. “She told me Kendal is called the Forbidden Duke.”

Lady Satterfield laughed, her gray eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh yes, I imagine she did. What else did she say?”

“Only that he dances with someone special at your ball.”

“Yes, he does. It’s quite the thing.”

Though Nora burned to ask why he was forbidden, she didn’t dare. She’d already risked enough that afternoon and come through unscathed. Still, she could wonder how he’d earned that label. One thing was certain—he seemed a lonely figure. Did he prefer the isolation it offered, or was it a prison like Nora’s own banishment had been?

She doubted she’d ever find out.

* * *

As the crowd had increased toward the end of the tea, Titus had decided to take his leave. He hadn’t departed the town house but had gone upstairs to his stepfather’s study for a glass of brandy.

His glass was nearly empty, and he surmised from the lack of activity downstairs that the tea was now over. Good. He could take his leave without running into people.

Although, he might like running into Miss Lockhart.

He’d watched her as much as he dared, and a few times had caught her watching him. He’d seen her laugh and converse. She seemed charming. Witty. Probably intelligent. Or so he guessed based on her frank expression and the way she held her shoulders. Two busybodies had spoken with her, and she’d sparkled against their insipidity.

The door to the study opened and in walked his stepmother. She gave him a wide, beaming smile. “You stayed nearly the entire time.”

Seeing how happy it made her was worth it.

She looked up at him eagerly. “Dare I hope you might come again?”

“Anything’s possible.” But not necessarily likely. He suspected that he’d started to become a novelty toward the end of the tea—probably due to earlier guests spreading the news of his presence at their next destinations. “Are you certain you want such a crowd in future?”

His stepmother cocked her dark head to the side. “Hmm. Perhaps not.” She exhaled. “Pity. You know, you could just overlook the nonsense.”

He blinked at her. “I do. It’s simply a nuisance, and I don’t wish to beleaguer your event.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but it isn’t a nuisance to me. I should endure any sort of bother if it meant you would come out of your shell a bit more.”

It wasn’t a shell. It was a well-guarded fortress to protect him from the absurdity of Society. He loathed the preening and the gossip and the ghastly, careless behavior. He didn’t wish to discuss it further so he changed the subject. “Your new companion seemed pleasant enough.” What a dull description. She was stunning and sparkled like a diamond amid coal.

“I’m quite pleased with her.” Creases formed over the bridge of her nose, and Titus sensed she was about to impart Something Important. “In fact, I’m going to ask her if she’d like to have a real Season—not just as my companion.”

“What do you mean? You wish to sponsor her?”

She nodded. “I do. She was denied her chance at a happy future, and I’d like to give her a second chance.”

Titus clamped his teeth together lest he speak out of turn. He didn’t want her to know that he was well aware of Miss Lockhart’s past—that he’d been part of the machine that had denied her. Yes, she’d made a mistake, but her punishment had been swift and harsh.

His stepmother continued, “I wondered if you might choose her as your dance partner at our ball.”

And there it was. Every year, he danced with someone who needed a little boost in Society. It had been his stepmother’s idea some six or seven years ago. It was her way to persuade him to come out from behind his wall, if only for one night, and with such a noble purpose, he’d been unable to refuse her request. In fact, it was because of Miss Lockhart that he’d agreed. He’d seen helping these specially selected women as his penance for the role he’d played in Miss Lockhart’s downfall.

Now he had the opportunity to help her.

Something about the request made him feel unsettled. Why? Was it because of his involvement nine years ago? Or was it because he found her damnably attractive? None of it signified. He owed it to her to give her the dance.

“Consider it done.”

She dropped her hand to her side, smiling. “Excellent.”

“What are your intentions with regard to Miss Lockhart? Does she hope to wed?”

“I believe so. We haven’t discussed it specifically. I only made my decision to offer her a Season this afternoon after watching her comport herself. You didn’t ask why she needs our support, but I shall tell you anyway. She was tossed out of Society nine years ago after she was caught in an embrace with that cad Haywood.” His stepmother wrinkled her nose. “She’s been rusticating in the country ever since, and now her father is unable to support her. That’s why she sought employment. As much as I enjoy her company—she’s an excellent companion—she deserves a family of her own.”

Titus could see the fire in his stepmother’s eyes. As someone who’d lost her husband and her child, she took nothing for granted, and she always sought to help others. “You’re an exceptionally kind person,” he said softly.

“I’m just doing what any decent person would do.” She straightened and pierced him with a direct stare. “Now tell me, is there any possibility you are ready to take a wife this Season?”

Titus had tossed back the last of his brandy and nearly choked. He coughed after swallowing. “I have always said that I shall when I meet a woman who is suitable.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “How can you expect to meet such a person when you attend precisely one social event each year? Unless you’re waiting for some girl in the Lake District to catch your fancy?”

Titus kept to himself at home as much as he did in London. If there were young ladies in the proximity of his ancestral pile, he was utterly unaware of them. The answer to her first question was that he didn’t expect to meet such a person at all. “You are the one who is eager for me to wed. I see no advantage at present.”

His stepmother exhaled. “No, I suppose you don’t. I’m sorry to harass you, but it is my duty as your mother.”

His mother.

She’d been a warm and supportive constant for most of his life, providing just the right amount of discipline and advice when he needed it. She’d been devastated by his father’s death, but Titus had been utterly wrecked inside and out. He could’ve taken a very different path. He could’ve given himself over to his rakish ways and gambled or drank himself into an early grave. But he hadn’t, and he had his stepmother to thank for saving him from the abyss. She hadn’t blamed him for his errant ways and hadn’t made him feel guilty for not realizing how serious his father’s illness had been. Instead, she’d been kind and loving and had welcomed him to share in her own grief.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She touched his arm. “I’m quite proud of you—whether you take a wife or not.” She gave him the soft, gentle smile that had won him over at the age of five. “And your father would be too.”

He set his empty glass on the sideboard, then bussed his stepmother’s cheek. “I’ll see you at the ball.”

Where he would right a nine-year-old wrong and aid the woman he should have rescued. Then he could return to his ordered, mundane life, hopefully freer than he’d felt in nearly a decade.