Galwin spun her into his arms as she laughed, as he’d hoped she would. Leading her into a waltz, he breathed out a sigh of relief and felt some of her tension ease as well.

They had done it. They’d made it back and no one had yet to call him out or demand an explanation.

And now he had Claire in his arms. Where she belonged.

Wait, what? He nearly stumbled at the thought but managed to keep his footing. Despite his jest, he was a delightful dancer—everyone said so.

But bloody hell, where had his mind just gone? He looked down at the blonde beauty in his arms and the sight of those plump, upturned lips sent a bolt of desire through him. He’d always found Claire attractive—of course he had, every male with a pulse found her attractive—but tonight… Tonight was something different altogether.

Tonight he’d seen another side of Claire.

Or perhaps he’d finally seen the real Claire. He’d thought it before but then watching her transform in front of his eyes as they reentered society, it had been like watching a chameleon change color for the second time in one night.

Gone was the vivid, passionate, emotional woman he’d spent time with this evening. Gone was the wild, heated, tempting vixen he’d kissed. He’d watched her fade into a simpering miss once more. He’d watched in horror as her lovely vivacity dimmed in plain sight. She’d grown muted and pale, like that pastel gown she wore—a pale imitation of the woman he’d seen earlier.

That, he realized, was the real Claire. What a pity that no one but he had seen her. But then again, knowing that he’d seen the dazzling jewel hiding in plain sight gave him a jolt of possessive pleasure, as if he were some great explorer and she the ultimate treasure.

She smiled up at him now, still simpering, but he caught a hint of the humor that glinted in her eyes. “Thank you for the dance,” she said. Her gaze flickered to the right where they’d left that odious old man. “Swattle can be quite…persistent.”

Her hesitation was slight but meaningful. He tightened his grip on her, vowing then and there to ensure she never left his sight again.

For the remainder of the ball, at least.

Of course he couldn’t keep her in his sights all the time. Though he could make a point of attending the same parties, ensuring that she never had to face society alone….

He frowned and made a concerted effort to ease his grip as they glided across the dance floor. What he was describing sounded remarkably like marriage.

His heart rate increased and he found himself staring a little too intensely at the pretty face before him, so familiar and yet so new.

No, he told himself. Marriage to Claire was a terrible idea. Marriage, in general, was not his favorite idea. A necessity, he knew, but one he’d been putting off. But to Claire?

His recalled with vivid clarity the look in her eyes when he’d suggested it in the garden as the worst case scenario.

There were no two ways about it—she’d looked horrified.

He focused on his feet which were starting to lose the graceful rhythm. Marriage between them might be a terrible idea, but it wasn’t that terrible.

He sought out the old baron and found him watching them with a furrowed brow, clearly still put out that he had lost this dance to Galwin.

Surely the thought of marrying him was more palatable than a marriage to Swattle.

“If you continue to glare at him, you will only make matters worse.” Claire’s soft voice had him looking down in surprise.

“I beg your pardon.” Yet again he caught a hint of intellect and humor behind that dazed, vacant smile. How had he never seen that before? Had he not been paying attention or had she just been that good at playing her role?

And that’s what it was. He could see that so clearly now.

He caught a flicker of impatience as her gaze darted to the corner where Swattle stood before returning to meet his shocked stare. “That man lives for the thrill of the hunt,” she explained slowly, as though to a dimwitted child. “That is why he pursues in earnest now, I’m sure of it. He knows I no longer need nor want him for a husband.”

He blinked down at her. “But you did need and want Swattle as your husband before?”

Her soft exhale was as good as rolling her eyes for all the exasperation it conveyed. “I did not want him, necessarily.”

“But you needed him,” he finished.

“I needed a husband.” Her tone was flat and rigid.

“And now you no longer need a husband,” he clarified as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Funny how he’d never given Claire or her marriage prospects much thought before, but tonight they seemed endlessly fascinating.

“No, now I no longer need a husband,” she confirmed.

He watched her in silence as the last pieces clicked into place. What had changed? Her sister marrying the earl, obviously. Of course she had been expected to marry well, especially in light of… His footwork nearly faltered yet again.

Hell and damnation. That was what she’d meant earlier about her brother’s actions and how they’d affected her. Yes, he’d known the family had been worried about their financial stability thanks to Jed’s gambling, but he hadn’t thought about how Claire would respond.

Or how she would be expected to save them all with that angelic face of hers.

Bloody hell, he was a sodding idiot for not having seen this earlier. For not having given her or her siblings a second thought.

“I’m sorry.” The apology came out without much forethought. It needed to be said and he needed to say it.

Her gaze met his and her eyes narrowed slightly, as if to see if he were teasing.

He was not and he hoped she could see that.

She looked away with a small shrug. To her credit, she did not try to pretend that she didn’t understand what he meant. “As you said, Jed is a grown man. He makes his own decisions.”

The words were meant to let him off the hook, but he winced at the tone. It was clear she did not mean it, not entirely at least. As his friend he’d been expected to do more. The knowledge made him want to take a bath to wash away the shame. But, even as he thought that anger flared up and wiped away that feeling of guilt.

He had done what he could, just not in the way she’d hoped. “I did what I could.”

“You could have done more,” she snapped. Her words were low so no other dancers could hear but the venom and heartache in that simple statement made his chest ache, on her behalf and on his own.

He leaned down slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Would you prefer I did what some of his others friends did and walk away when he needed me most?” He gestured toward the balcony where the earl and his wife were watching the ball beneath them, arms linked and happy as could be. “Do you wish I’d done as your brother-in-law and turn away from Jed when his situation grew difficult?”

He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her more. To keep from spilling all of Jed’s secrets, which were not his to tell. “I promise you, Claire. I tried to keep him afloat. I stepped in when he would let me.” He cleared his throat and softened his tone, keenly aware of the questioning looks they were getting from the couples around them. “I’ve never claimed to be anyone’s hero, but I’d like to believe that my interference kept the situation from being even worse than it was.”

She watched him for several long moments without speaking, her eyes moving over his face, reading his expression and studying his gaze. He held his breath under her scrutiny, awaiting her verdict like a man facing the gallows.

He felt her exhale, her body softening in his arms as she gave him a smile that was far more genuine than the simper he was starting to loathe. “In that case, I suppose I owe you an apology.”

He shook his head. “No. Never.”

Her eyes flashed briefly with surprise. “Then a thank you, at least.”

He clenched his jaw as emotions too strong and fierce made it difficult to hold her like this without crushing her to him. “I could have done more,” he repeated. He should have done more. But not for Jed—for her.

He should have given her and her siblings more than a passing thought. He should have realized how Jed’s problems affected the family, and Claire most of all. “I should have married you.”

Her eyes widened at that, and he couldn’t say that he blamed her. He’d surprised himself with that outburst. But it was the truth and in hindsight it seemed so plain. As the second son of a duke he didn’t have the same pressure to marry as his brother, but a good match was still expected of him.

Much as he griped and moaned about the prospect of marriage with his bachelor friends, he did not truly hate the idea. In fact, he rather liked the idea of a warm woman in his bed, of a family and a comfortable home life and—

He had a sudden vision of Claire in his house, wearing one of those genuine smiles as she welcomed him home. Claire holding a babe in her arms. Claire in his bed, wearing nothing but that seductive smile.

“Are you all right?” Claire asked. She peered up at him with a questioning look.

He nodded quickly. “Fine, fine.” Scrambling to change the topic from his mental health, which was clearly suffering some sort of crisis, he latched on to the topic that had started this in the first place.

He glanced over at the baron meaningfully once more. “So, now that your sister has wed an earl, you are no longer looking for a husband, which has made you all the more appealing to that fine gentleman. Is that correct?”

His tone held a world of sarcasm and he was rewarded with another flicker of amusement in those startlingly expressive eyes. “That is correct.”

He nodded, his gaze searching hers as she’d done to him. “You don’t need a husband…but do you want one?”

Her eyes widened as he knew they would. It was a shockingly personal question to ask, but after the evening they’d had, it felt normal to defy etiquette.

“Of course,” she said softly. “I’d like a family of my own one day.”

The statement warmed him in a way he would have to ponder at another time. He couldn’t focus on that right now, not when she was lithe and graceful and deliciously sweet in his arms. “And what are you looking for in a husband now that you can have your pick of the lot?”

She laughed and he felt it in his bones. He loved her laugh. And he adored being the one to make her laugh.

“I would not say I could have my pick,” she said, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks a fetching shade of pink.

“Why not?” he insisted.

Her gaze shifted as she avoided eye contact.

“I realize you have been reared to be humble and modest to a fault, but you cannot fool me with that demure debutante act,” he said softly, teasingly. “Not after this evening.”

Her blush deepened at the reminder of that kiss but his words had the desired effect and her gaze met his once more. He saw a spark of rebellion as she met his challenge. “Fine,” she said. “I admit that I have far more options now than I had before.”

When her gaze met his he nearly laughed aloud at her brazenness. “The earl has been kind enough to add significantly to my dowry and there is no longer a ticking clock hanging over my head.”

He could practically hear the relief in her voice and he felt it as well on her behalf. He’d heard about her dowry. If anything, now she would have to worry about fortune hunters. “So you can have your pick then,” he said, driving home his point.

She didn’t answer, just looked around the room with that simpering smile firmly in place.

“I suppose you’ll hold out for love.” He hadn’t meant it to sound quite so disdainful. It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe in love, but it was a rarity in the world in which they lived. Perhaps if he were a merchant and she a shopkeeper’s daughter they might have that freedom, but in their world, there were far too many other priorities to take into consideration. The odds of stumbling into love in addition to good breeding, wealth, and title were so low it was laughable.

Though he knew this to be true, it was not the sort of thing one said to a young, sweet woman in the first blush of youth as she moved in one’s arms as though she belonged there. The poor girl had probably spent her life dreaming of finding love, knowing that it would be unlikely, at best.

That thought was interrupted by a short laugh of disbelief as she gave a small roll of her eyes. “Oh certainly, I intend to wait for my one true love.” Her gaze met his and her amusement at his expense nearly knocked him sideways. “I expect to find him any day now.”

He stared at her speechless for too long. Only the sound of the music filled the air between them as they moved in time along with the other couples. He registered her sarcasm and the look in her eyes that could only be termed…jaded. “Don’t you believe in love?”

She arched her brows, surprise replacing the cynicism that seemed so out of sorts with Claire, both versions, old and new. “Do you?”

“Of course.” He answered without thinking. But really…of course. He’d seen it happen often enough with his own eyes. The latest example being the earl and his bride who had exchanged more nauseatingly loving glances this evening than he would ever witness in a lifetime attending the opera.

His response made her brows pull together and a cleft formed at the bridge of her nose. Bloody hell, how had he never noticed how adorable she looked when confused?

Perhaps because he’d never seen her confused before tonight. Or angry, or amused…or passionate. Tonight was a veritable cornucopia of firsts when it came to Claire Cleveland.

“You must be joking,” she said uncertainly.

“Why would I be joking?” Now it was his turn to be confused. Had he really made such a name for himself as an incorrigible rake that it was so bloody hard to believe that he might be interested in something more one day? That maybe he too wanted a family, and yes, maybe even love if he was so lucky.

Granted, the odds were stacked against him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Just that it was a rarity. He doubted the sanity of anyone who set their hopes on finding it but was the first to admit to envy when the lucky few stumbled up on it.

Her hand resting on his arm fluttered a bit as she searched for words. “But…But…the very idea is so unreasonable.”

“Mmm.” That he could not argue. One glance at the lovebirds up above them gave proof to her statement. Whatever it was between them was most certainly not based in reason.

Her brows drew together further at his lack of a response. “The very idea is ludicrous. It is a pretty word placed upon natural urges and—” Her mouth snapped shut as her cheeks turned pink once more.

What he wouldn’t give to know what she had been about to say. He leaned forward, lowering his voice as he fought back a laugh. “Do go on,” he murmured. “I would love to hear more about these urges.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know exactly to what urges I refer.”

His mind went back to that passionate kiss earlier in the night and one look in her clear blue eyes told him her mind had headed in the same direction. “Indeed, I do.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound so salacious but when his mouth opened his voice mirrored the thoughts in his head, and those thoughts were extraordinarily wicked. He found himself looking for a place they could slip away to, wondering how he could lure her back into his arms, pondering just how he would kiss her and where he would start first.

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from her lips. “So you do not believe in love then, I take it.”

“Of course not, it’s just a silly notion,” she said, her voice stiffer than it had been. Had she felt it too, the shift in the air between them? The heat that seemed to course through them wherever their bodies came into contact?

He wanted her. This was hardly news but the thought resonated within him. He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting any woman. Urges, she’d said. And yes, perhaps these were just natural human urges.

Or maybe it was more.

The final strains of the music fell around them. This moment was coming to an end. Soon this night would come to an end.

He felt absurdly nostalgic for an evening that had not yet ended. The last note played but he found he could not relinquish his grip. He could not let go.

She tilted her face up and looked at him with questioning eyes. Whatever she saw in his gaze made her lips part and her eyes widen with wonder.

“I see,” he repeated, for lack of anything else to say. How could he think of a rational thought when his mind was muddled by desire? His voice, he was happy to learn, revealed nothing of the tumult going on within him. Under normal circumstances he would be the first to point out how ridiculous this situation was and how utterly foolish his behavior.

But nothing about this night had been normal. Not his conversation with Jed when he offered his moral support to meet with a lowlife gaming hell owner to pay off his debts, not being chased down by Jed’s self-righteous, morally superior younger sister, and certainly not the passionate kiss with said sister.

He drew in a deep breath and forced his arms to let her go. She was not his—not now, not ever. He had no claims to Claire Cleveland and no right to hold her like he was in public and without music playing.

Funny how waltzing was dangerously close to embracing once the music stopped.

He escorted her off the dance floor in heavy silence. For his part, he was trying to figure out how to see her again. Preferably alone. He was also calculating the odds on stealing another kiss before the night was through.

He glanced over and caught sight of that prim and proper posture, the demure lowering of her eyes.

Slim to none on the kissing, he’d imagine. But a man could hope, couldn’t he? What, he wondered, would it take to get her to lose the virtuous and boring debutante façade? How could he get the real Claire Cleveland to come out and play once more before the night was through?

Claire’s younger sister, Georgie, waved to her from the sidelines and they dutifully headed in her direction. Once he handed her over to the protection of her family she would be safe.

He cast a glance around for that repulsive baron with his lecherous leer. Claire ought to be safe from him, at the very least.

He gave her younger sister a tight smile before bowing over Claire’s hand, not daring to meet her enchanting gaze once more lest he forget where they were and give in to the temptation to kiss her, which would ruin her and damn him to marriage.

There are worse punishments than to be bound to a woman who kissed like Claire, that voice taunted.

Perhaps that voice was right. But that didn’t change the fact that Claire had narrowly escaped the noose of marriage herself and was not ready for that next step. She had the freedom to take her time now and she deserved to exercise that right.

And if she were ready to marry?

He waved the thought aside as he murmured the appropriate niceties to her and her family.

He already knew the answer. Even if she were ready for marriage, she would not choose him. That much she had made clear.

As he walked away he imagined he could feel her eyes on his back following his departure.

She would be safe here with her family, all right.

Safe from Swattle…and safe from him.