AS THEY STRODE ABOUT the ballroom, Robert stole glances at the young woman by his side. He shouldn’t have danced with her. He’d told Stirling he was through with dancing, and he’d meant few words more sincerely. Dancing was where the trouble started, and Miss Glasbarr was trouble if ever he’d seen it. Mercurial hazel eyes. Hair a shade of burnished gold he’d never encountered before, even in Scotland. A beguiling innocence he thought might actually be unfeigned.

So, he’d given in to temptation and danced with her. One set. What could be the harm?

If she’d been tempting in the soft candlelight of the foyer, she was triply so while dancing. No longer nervous, or shaking with some mixture of anger and terror evoked by Dunreid, she was all enthusiasm, vivacity and joy. Watching her dance was enough to make a man call for a priest.

Call for a priest? He was clearly mad. He’d sworn never to fall in love again after Cinthia.

Robert nearly tripped, startled by his thoughts. In his musing, he’d glossed over Kitty Thomas, the young woman who’d jilted him not a week ago. What sort of a monster was he to so quickly forget a girl he’d wanted to marry, his mind and heart already back on Cinthia?

He frowned. Stirling was right. He had never loved Kitty. What he’d loved was the idea of being over Cinthia. Well, he wouldn’t permit himself to imagine his way into love again. Not at the expense of a sweet soul like Miss Glasbarr.

That decided, he doubled his efforts. He would find her a worthy young man. Someone not jilted, jaded and temperamental. A quick scan of the revelers before them revealed several acceptable candidates. He brought her to a halt before the nearest.

“Campbell,” Robert greeted. “May I introduce Miss Glasbarr?”

“Miss Glasbarr.” Campbell shot Robert a surprised look as he bowed over her hand.

“Mister Campbell.” Miss Glasbarr offered a pretty smile. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Miss Glasbarr would like to dance, Campbell. Be a good fellow and escort her in the next set, will you?” That earned Robert two startled looks. Well, what did they expect? He wasn’t her mother. He had no practice making subtle introductions.

Campbell leaned in. “I would, Banbrook, but Dunreid…” He trailed off and nodded his head toward the other side of the room with a roll of his eyes.

Robert didn’t need to look to know Dunreid lurked there, like some sort of many-armed sea slug, his tendrils of malice snaking about the glittering room. “Leave Dunreid to me, Campbell. Take the lass for a set. She’s a delightful partner.”

Miss Glasbarr blushed. She turned her hazel eyes on him in what was likely as near a glare as her lovely features could manage. “Mister Banbrook, really, I’m not a mare at market. If Mister Campbell finds himself too much pressured, I need not dance.”

“You hear that, Campbell? Miss Glasbarr thinks you’re afraid of Dunreid.” Robert added a grin to his words.

Campbell stood up straighter. “I am most certainly not.” He scowled at Robert, then bowed to Miss Glasbarr again. “I would be honored if you would dance with me, Miss Glasbarr.”

“Thank you, Mister Campbell,” she said. “It would be my pleasure.”

She gave Robert a grateful smile. Campbell held out his arm. Miss Glasbarr left Robert’s side to place her hand on Campbell’s ridiculous crimson coat sleeve. Robert suddenly wondered if Campbell truly was worthy. Didn’t the man gamble himself into debt every other Thursday?

As they walked off, Miss Glasbarr’s polite chatter about the weather drifted back to him. She hadn’t chatted with Robert inanely. Did that mean she didn’t care for him?

Robert watched them line up with the other dancers. Miss Glasbarr was vibrant with eagerness. While they waited for the musicians to begin, Campbell looked her up and down, not hiding his appreciation. Robert clenched his teeth. What had possessed him to consider Campbell worthy? A gambler in a gaudy coat was not what Miss Glasbarr needed.

Robert looked about. There had to be someone worthier. His gaze landed on Mister Paterson. Paterson didn’t drink, gamble, dally, or even race. He was the most boring man in Edinburgh. He also couldn’t string three words together in the presence of a pretty female. He was perfect.

With one eye on the dance for Campbell’s leering glances, Robert strode toward Paterson. Dressed in rumpled light grey, which was a sight better than popinjay-red, he stood beside one of the tall windows. Robert agreed with Paterson’s choice of location. He drank in the cool air coming from the courtyard as he approached.

“Paterson,” he greeted.

“Banbrook,” Paterson said cheerfully.

“You aren’t dancing.”

Paterson winced. “I, ah, haven’t made the acquaintance of any of the young ladies present.”

“You’re in luck.” Robert offered a pleasant smile. “See that lovely creature dancing with Campbell? I’m introducing her around. She would be pleased to dance with you.”

“With me?” Paterson appeared startled. His eyes narrowed. “Wait, isn’t that Miss Glasbarr?” He shot Robert a worried look. “I can’t dance with her. Dunreid sai—”

“Dunreid doesn’t own the girl and she wants nothing to do with him. I danced with her. Campbell is dancing with her.” He offered a frown. “I’ve always taken you for shy, not cowardly.”

Paterson made a sputtering sound. He straightened, shoulders thrown back. “Now, see here, I am not a coward and I won’t stand for being called one.”

Robert slapped Paterson on the back, hard enough to rock him forward onto his toes. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on you. Come along, then. We’ll go stand near the dance floor.” Where he could keep an eye on Campbell. “So she won’t miss us when they’re done with their set.”

He led the still sputtering Paterson back to where he’d introduced Miss Glasbarr to Campbell. They spoke idly while they waited for the set to conclude. Paterson was every bit as boring as Robert recalled.

After an interminable length of time, during which Robert concluded the musicians had seen fit to play lengthier pieces than usual, her set with Campbell ended. He proffered his arm with a familiarity Robert couldn’t approve of and escorted her back. They chatted brightly as they approached. As far as he could ascertain, their conversation was, of all things, about horse breeds.

“Miss Glasbarr,” Robert said as soon as they drew near. “This is Mister Paterson. He’s requested the next set.”

“M-Miss…G-Glas…” Paterson concluded his stuttering with a bow.

Miss Glasbarr gave no reaction to Paterson’s inability to properly address her, and she curtsied. “That would be lovely, Mister Paterson. Thank you.”

He offered his arm. Miss Glasbarr cast Robert a quick smile before permitting Paterson to lead her back toward the other dancers.

“Well put together little piece, isn’t she?” Campbell said as he watched her go.

Robert shrugged. He tried to tamp down the anger sparked by Campbell’s too-familiar scrutiny of Miss Glasbarr’s retreating form.

“I can see why Dunreid claimed her,” Campbell continued. “And why she doesn’t want him. She’s got an active mind, too, does that one.”

“You expect me to believe you assessed the quality of her mind while dancing and staring down the front of her dress?”

Campbell grinned. “If God didn’t want gentlemen to look down ladies’ fronts, he wouldn’t have made us the taller sex.” He gave Robert a slap on the back and chuckled at his own joke.

Robert made no reply, attention on the dancers. The set was a collection of slow, careful dances. As impossible as it seemed, Miss Glasbarr appeared to speak with Paterson quite amiably throughout. This strange circumstance was confirmed when the third dance in the set ended and he escorted her back. Robert could hear them conversing on the British Museum as they returned. Even worse than Paterson’s newfound ability to put more than three words together was the besotted look he leveled on Miss Glasbarr.

The situation only grew worse after that. Apparently other men thought that if Paterson could ignore Dunreid’s claim and dance with Miss Glasbarr, any gentleman could, the cretins flocked to her. Robert was soon relegated to the fringe of the group of men that engulfed her. Campbell, immune to Robert’s glower, took up his role and introduce her to newcomers.

Finally, near midnight, Robert decided Miss Glasbarr had met enough gentlemen for one evening. He was sick near to death of watching so-called men, who’d been too fearful before, dance with her now. Even after so brief an acquaintance, he was certain she deserved better than a coward. Worse, the majority of the men who’d approached her were complete oafs. If she couldn’t have brave men, she should at least have the pleasure of skilled partners.

He resisted to urge to escort her out a second time, to show the lot of them how to properly dance with a lovely young woman. He wouldn’t do her any good by partnering with her twice in one night. Not if she wanted to find a husband among the assembled gentlemen, though not a one of the louts deserved her. Of course, who she settled on wasn’t truly his concern, so long as she didn’t settle on Dunreid.

The next time she was escorted from the dance floor, Robert circled the waiting group of men and met her before she reached them. He offered his arm. With a quick farewell to her partner, she placed elegant fingers on his sleeve. Robert steered them away from her admirers.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he observed in a low voice.

“So soon?” She glanced about, a slight frown marring her features.

“Shall I escort you to the front hall?” Robert nodded in the direction many of the other young women were headed. Pastel ruffles swishing about them, they resembled nothing so much as one of Mary Moser’s acclaimed paintings.

“That would be very kind of you.”

Relieved at her ready acquiescence, he angled them toward the front of the ballroom. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

“I did, and thank you for your assistance.” Her dispirited tone belied her words.

“But?” Her obvious displeasure reassured him. He was pleased she realized the unsuitability of the flock of gentleman, rather than being buoyed by their unworthy attentions.

She shrugged delicate shoulders. “They danced with me, which really was delightful, but I don’t believe a single one will pursue me. They’re still afraid of him.”

Robert nodded. She was likely correct, which only proved their lack of worth, but he was there to find her a gentleman. He meant to meet that obligation. He wouldn’t consign her to choose between Dunreid or no man. What more could he do to thwart the viscount? “A carriage ride.” The offer was out before he could restrain the words. He hadn’t taken a carriage ride in the park since Cinthia’s betrayal.

“I beg your pardon?”

He contained a grimace. Apparently, he enjoyed making himself miserable. “Let me take you for a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon. A few turns about the park. You can meet a greater variety of gentlemen. He can’t have cowed every man in Edinburgh.”

She smiled up at him, too sweet and too young for any man he knew. Why, with her only just completing finishing school, he must have seven or so years on her.

“Well, he hasn’t cowed you,” she said. “So certainly, he can’t have intimidated every man in the city, and yes, a carriage ride would be lovely, thank you.”

Robert nodded. Her cheerful smile and innocent compliments lightened his mood. She was right. A carriage ride would be lovely. Because he and Cinthia used to take them almost daily didn’t mean he could never enjoy one again.

He parted ways with Miss Glasbarr in the front hall. She fell in with a stream of young women headed above stairs. Once she was out of sight, Robert exited into the Edinburgh evening to await his carriage. Miss Glasbarr’s smile lingered in his mind and evoked one of his own.

Robert paced the curb in the cool night air, in no mood to speak with the other gentlemen waiting for their carriages. He’d had enough of the lot of them for one evening. Watching Miss Glasbarr dance with so many eligible, yet wholly unworthy, men had soured the sociable side of his nature.

He would not misconstrue his protectiveness as affection, however. She was beautiful, kind and sweet, but that didn’t mean he was drawn to her. He had to exorcise Cinthia from heart and mind before he flung himself impulsively at another girl. He wouldn’t repeat the mistake he’d made with Kitty.

His carriage pulled up, the stately, four-horse one he generally used when he attended society events, not the open curricle he would use tomorrow to take Miss Glasbarr around the park. Robert frowned. Every stray thought shouldn’t lead back to her.

“Where to, sir?” his coachman asked.

“My club.” Robert climbed in.

The carriage moved slowly until they finally broke free of the crush of traffic leaving Lady Peddington’s School. When the vehicle lurched into a faster pace, he leaned back against the cushion and watched the bright square of light that entered, crossed and left his carriage at each passing streetlamp. Each time the lamplight glinted off the gold threaded cord that tied back the window curtains, he was reminded of Miss Glasbarr’s curls. When they reached his club, he disembarked, annoyed by a journey that had only emphasized his inability to put her from his mind. He stomped up the four steps and entered the elegant, three-story structure with a frown.

Once at his usual table, he sent for a glass of whisky. He awaited the solace the smooth liquor offered with impatience but somehow, when the glass arrived, the dark liquor didn’t seem worth drinking. Idly, he turned the tumbler in his hand and stared into the russet depths. If he angled the cut crystal the right way, the surface of the whisky caught the candlelight and gleamed the color of her hair.

“Very well, Banbrook, what will it take to make you go away?”

Robert looked up as Dunreid pulled out the chair across from him and settled into the cushioned seat.

“Your presence is enough.” Robert set his glass down and stood.

“For God’s sake, sit down,” Dunreid said, tone friendly. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“You’re the one who posed the question.” Robert didn’t bother to conceal his animosity as he looked down at Dunreid. “I’m simply giving an honest answer.”

The viscount scowled, neck craned backward to look up. He stood, and placed his stocky form between Robert and the rest of the room. “I want that girl, Banbrook. You don’t.”

“I might.”

Dunreid snorted. “What happened to your honesty? The world knows you’re still pining for my wife.”

Robert’s hands balled at his sides. The muscles in his arm twitched. He longed for the satisfaction of burying his fist in Dunreid’s fleshy face.

“I’ll ask again, nicely, for old times’ sake.” Dunreid’s voice was low, but still convivial. “What will it take for you to go away? You should accept something, because I’ll have her in the end, either way.”

“I’m not a horse trader and she is not a mare at market,” Robert said, echoing Miss Glasbarr’s words.

Dunreid shrugged. “She may as well be.”

Robert answered that with a glower.

Face bright with an evil glee, Dunreid leaned closer. “You can’t be bought, I know. You’re even wealthier than I am, but I have one thing you want. What about a trade? One night with Cinthia for a go at the lass. I’ll give her back when I’m done. I’m sure you’re used to other men’s—”

Robert swung. Dunreid dodged the punch. Hi fist plunged into Robert’s middle. The air drove from his lungs. Pain doubled him over. Dunreid’s rasping breath penetrated the blood surging in his ears. Robert straightened and loosed a wild punch. His fist connected with something solid.

“Bloody hell.” Dunreid fell back several paces.

Men closed in around them. Voices rose. Hands fastened on Robert’s shoulders, though he made no move to pursue the viscount. He blinked tears of fury from his vision and yanked against the men’s hold.

Dunreid collapsed into a chair, one hand clutched to his left eye. With the right, he glared at Robert. “You bastard. This will blacken. What am I supposed to tell Cinthia?”

“That’s not my concern,” Robert bit out. “Use whatever lies you normally tell your wife.”

He shook off the hands and tugged his jacket straight. He turned and cast a glare around the room, lest anyone decide to avenge Dunreid. Most of the assembled gentlemen had adopted neutral expressions, though some looked amused.

Several large footmen crowded the far doorway, eyeing him. The club’s proprietor kept them on hand, for there was no fighting permitted. Robert offered the footmen a grimace of apology and strode toward the exit.