Sophia could count on one hand the times she’d danced at a ball. Each one paled in comparison to this. The breathless feeling she was experiencing couldn’t be solely blamed on the waltz, which meant it was because of the man who held her.

She did her best to hide her agitation, though feared she was failing abysmally. Elliott—rather, the earl—had thoroughly rattled her. Why was it she felt as if they were playing chess, where each move might well be her last?

He was everything her aunt had warned her about—a womanizer who frequented gaming hells and brothels, stayed out all hours of the night, and drank far too much.

But in this moment, he was handsome and charming. Already her understanding of how her mother might have felt about her father had shifted considerably.

Her thoughts came tumbling to a halt as the earl drew her through the open garden door, still moving in time to the music. The large terrace allowed them to take several more turns before he slowed their steps.

“I thought a breath of fresh air was in order.”

She searched his expression, trying to determine what he was about. Being alone with any man was a mistake, let alone one with his reputation.

“So warm in there, even with the garden doors open, don’t you think?” He tucked her gloved hand under his elbow and moved toward the shadows.

Her pulse quickened as she pondered the proper course of action to take. This was outside her realm of experience. Did she excuse herself and return inside?

As she opened her mouth to do just that, Elliott looked up. She couldn’t help but follow his gaze, wondering what he could possibly be looking at.

“Only a few stars are visible. Nothing like the stars you see from the deck of a ship at sea.”

Her imagination took hold at his words. “What is it like?”

He turned to look at her, the dim torchlight surrounding the terrace casting shadows over his features. “The stars or the ship?”

“Both. All of it.” Her experiences were so limited she couldn’t picture either.

“You must know of the stars, having lived in the country.” His deep voice was quiet, sending a tiny shiver down her back as though he’d run a finger along her spine. Thank goodness his gaze returned to the night sky. She didn’t want him to know what he did to her.

“The stars are beautiful in the country,” she agreed. “So many more than in London. It’s one of the things I miss about living there. But surely you can see even more at sea.”

“I suppose that’s true, as they are visible from horizon to horizon on a ship in fair weather. It’s quiet as well. And peaceful. Only the occasional creak of the boat and a splash of ocean as some sea creature passes by.” He turned to look at her again. “Somehow when it’s quiet, you can better appreciate the sight. Does that make sense?”

She nodded, something inside her loosening at his words, as though her soul understood him in that moment. She held his gaze, wanting more of the feeling. Despite being surrounded by others, she had been very lonely since her mother’s death.

Elliott seemed to sense her wish, for he continued, “It is much easier to believe all is well with the world when a blanket of peace descends upon you.”

She nodded again, imagining the sensation. “Like the first snow. When those perfect flakes fall and all is quiet and renewed.”

He smiled—the first genuine smile he’d given her—and caused her heart to spin. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

“What else have you seen on your travels?”

A shadow crossed his face, telling her not all he’d seen had been pleasant. Then he caught himself and glanced at her. “The good things?”

“Yes. The good things.” She already knew of bad things—death and broken dreams, heartache and sorrow. And loneliness. Those she’d either experienced firsthand or received endless lectures and warnings about. In this moment, she only wanted to hear of the good things.

He looked back at the night sky as though seeking inspiration. And his memories. “Paris is delightful. The coffee there is thick and rich, the aromatic smell adding to the taste. The Arc de Triomphe stands tall, but creates chaos with the traffic.” He shook his head. “Luckily the shelling by the Prussians during the Siege of Paris didn’t destroy it.”

Sophia couldn’t help but study him, surprised he mentioned the war. “That ended only a few months ago.”

“In January. Did you know they transported mail by balloons for a time?”

“Truly?” She tried to picture it.

“Balloons and pigeons.”

“Isn’t that clever?”

“They’re building a tram in Madrid. It will be pulled by mules and is supposed to open next month.”

“You’ve travelled to so many places. Where else brings you that feeling of peace?”

He paused for a long moment as though to give her question serious consideration. “La Almudena, Madrid’s Catholic Church next to the palace. Ardgroom Stone Circle in County Cork, Ireland, although it has an eerie quality as well. One feels restless spirits there.”

All those places sounded mysterious and wonderful to her. Reading about such sights wasn’t the same as seeing them.

“What of you?”

His question took her by surprise. The way he watched her suggested he truly wanted to know, that he wasn’t merely being polite. “I haven’t ventured anywhere except between my previous home and London.”

He frowned. “Surely you’ve seen the ocean?”

She shook her head. Her aunt hadn’t approved of such frivolous travel with no purpose. Nor had there been the funds to do so.

Elliott turned to face her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, feel his breath on her cheek. Awareness curled through her, catching her by surprise.

His gaze held hers, and she couldn’t have looked away if she’d tried. “If the opportunity presents itself, you must go. Somewhere you can stand upon the beach and watch the surf pound the shore. The power of the ocean is invigorating. You will find peace there as well.”

In her mind’s eye, she saw only the gentle lap of the waves of a pond against the bank. Envy tugged at her.

Though she knew she was lucky to have a roof over her head and plenty of food, she longed for so much more. That feeling frightened her. How many times had her aunt reminded her to be grateful for what she had? She had no desire to live with unfulfilled wishes like her mother. No—that hadn’t been living. Merely existing.

Nor did she want to live her life dissatisfied, like her aunt. That wasn’t truly living either.

Elliott reached out to run a finger along her cheek. “You would love it.”

As though he’d cast a spell, she stared at him, feeling as if he could see into her thoughts, deep down to her most hidden desires.

Then he edged closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. She froze, unable to believe that what she thought he was going to do was actually correct.

But it was.

He took her lips with his, slow and gentle just as his words had been. Yet neither of those qualities matched what she felt. As though he’d struck a match, something within her burst into flame, heating her deep inside.

His lips were firm and sure, his head moving as though to coax a response from her.

With a moan, she drew nearer, wanting more of this. How was it possible to feel so much? To want so much? When his tongue ran along the crease of her lips, she startled, parting her lips in surprise. Then his tongue swept into her mouth and all thought stopped.

This...this was magic.

His arms wrapped around her. Her body tingled. Everywhere.

Emboldened by the feelings coursing through her, she returned the kiss with equal vigor. Her gloved hand reached up to touch his cheek.

Then the voice of Aunt Margaret sounded in her ear, admonishing her for her reckless behavior, telling her she was no different than her mother. Wickedness loves company. How often had Aunt Margaret repeated that and many other proverbs?

Sophia drew back, shocked at herself.

At him.

At the desire flooding her body.

For the briefest moment, she saw the surprise in Elliott’s jade green eyes in the torchlight. He hadn’t been expecting whatever this was either.

Then a shutter drew over those eyes. Once again, he was a scoundrel, a knowing smile on his face as he eased back.

“Well. That was...unexpected.” His gaze swept over her as if he saw her in a new light.

How ironic, since she now viewed herself in a new light as well. She had never expected to be tempted by a scoundrel.

“We had best see how my grandmother is faring.”

She nodded, fearing her voice would emerge as a squeak, or worse, a moan.

Within a few short minutes, Elliott returned her to his grandmother’s side, his rakish smile in place as he walked away.

“I trust you enjoyed the dance?” The countess glanced at her.

“Yes. It was lovely.” Curse him, for it truly had been lovely, as had the conversation and the kiss afterward.

The other women shifted the countess’s attention, much to Sophia’s relief.

“What a wonderful ball.”

Sophia turned to see her cousin, Daphne Fairchild, at her side. “Isn’t it?”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed as she studied her. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sophia feigned interest in the crowd, hoping Daphne would change topics.

“I may not know you well but even I can tell something is amiss.” Daphne stepped closer, the skirt of her lavender gown brushing Sophia’s. “Do tell.”

“Nothing to report. I danced and am slightly out of breath.”

“With whom?”

Goodness, but Daphne was like a dog with a bone. A hint of news and she latched onto it for all she was worth. “The earl.”

“The earl? As in, the Earl of Aberland? He has returned?”

“What other earl would dance with me?”

Daphne tapped Sophia’s arm. “You underestimate your own charms.”

Sophia scoffed. “You truly don’t know me well.”

“Sophia.” Daphne’s tone was full of reprimand. “I refuse to allow you to speak of yourself that way. Now, back to the matter at hand. How was the dance?”

“She says it was lovely.” The countess leaned around Sophia to look at Daphne. “What do you suppose that means?”

Sophia wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. The countess’s hearing was far better than she would’ve guessed.

“Good evening, my lady.” Daphne curtsied before responding. “I have to wonder what it means as well. She tends to use that word frequently.”

“I noticed that too.” The countess gave one decisive nod, as though Daphne’s agreement pleased her.

Sophia shook her head at the pair. “What would you have me say?”

“Additional details would be helpful. After all, you have only had a handful of dances.” Daphne leaned forward, her gaze on the countess. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed.”

Sophia could only sigh. It was going to be a very long evening for more than one reason.

Elliott followed Lady Hamilton’s footman into her withdrawing room later that night. If his luck held, he’d be leaving shortly. He had no desire to engage in a dalliance with the lady, but neither could he afford to have her sharing the secrets she held with anyone else.

Her international connections could provide interesting information. Unfortunately, her price for telling him what she knew might be higher than he cared to pay.

“Aberland, how nice of you to come by.” She waved away the footman, who closed the door as he left.

Elliott greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, hoping he wouldn’t have to do much more than that. The woman’s sexual appetite was not exaggerated.

Her attire had him concerned. The smoky grey nightgown and matching robe with its plunging neckline revealed more than it covered. He did his best to keep his gaze elsewhere in case what he thought was fabric was actually skin.

“Pour us a drink, will you, darling?”

He moved to the sideboard that held several crystal decanters. “Sherry?”

“Something stronger, please.” She fingered the teardrop diamond that dangled between her generous breasts, drawing his gaze though he quickly looked away.

He poured them both brandy, handed her one, and took the chair near the settee where she sat before the fire. “How was the remainder of your evening?”

“Dear Elliott, there is no need to play games with me. I know why you’re here.”

Alarm filled him though he did his best to hide it. Had his long-kept secret been discovered? He quickly considered his options, hoping he could control the damage this would cause.

She took a sip then offered him a sultry smile. “We have many mutual interests.”

He smiled, delaying a response by taking a drink of his brandy until he knew to what she was referring.

“But tonight, I am only interested in one,” she continued, cupping the glass in her palm. She looked up at him from under her lashes and bit her lower lip.

In his younger days, he might’ve been interested in what the lady suggested. He’d indulged himself more often than he should’ve with the excuse that it was part of the requirements of his position.

But not anymore. He’d grown tired of that life. He wanted more—if only he knew what more was.

She shifted from her place in the center of the settee to the side and patted the seat next to her. “Come closer, darling.”

He complied, still uncertain what topic she was discussing. Until he knew, he wasn’t going to assume anything. The time had come to make his own moves in this cat and mouse game they played.

Holding his glass, he sat and placed his arm over the back of the settee near her shoulders. “I’m so pleased to have a few moments alone with you. With my travels keeping me away from London, I am behind on events, including those pertaining to you.”

“I’m flattered you care.” She ran a bold hand along his thigh.

He lowered his arm so he could caress her shoulders then stared into her eyes. “Tell me.”

Compliments worked wonders with this woman. She chatted easily, telling him of trivial matters. Relief filled him as he realized she hadn’t been referring to his work with the Intelligence Office.

He held onto his patience with the hope she’d reveal something noteworthy. A few well-timed questions and feigned interest in her every word brought the conversation around to her uncle, who was deeply involved in Russian politics.

As he’d suspected, the Russians were concerned with Prussia’s growing power. But that didn’t mean they were prepared to side with Britain over anything. Anarchists were active in every country from what Elliott had learned over the years. Many viewed Britain and its ever-growing empire as an unwelcome force that had to be stopped, including the Russian anarchists.

Russia was a country of such vast diversity and distances it was only natural that certain individuals there sought freedom to rule their own people and believed others should have that right as well. Great Britain’s policy of expansion was unwelcome.

But the chaos anarchists created had no place in Britain’s well-ordered government. Any activities they planned were only intended to harm. Innocent lives would be lost and that could not be tolerated.

“You are so devoted to keep in close contact with your family despite the distance separating you.” He ran a finger along her neck. “Family gatherings must be interesting with the varied countries represented.”

Each time the conversation paused, her hand wandered higher on his thigh. If he could keep her distracted and talking, he might learn more and keep her hand from moving.

After an hour more, he decided he’d learned as much as he was going to. The woman was like an octopus, reaching for him so frequently he’d been hard pressed to stop her. He’d convinced her he was weary from his travels and didn’t want to give her a poor performance in bed and left with no more than a few kisses.

As he closed the door of her residence behind him, he couldn’t help but wipe his mouth. Lady Hamilton might be experienced, but there was no doubt the kiss he’d shared with Sophia had been far different—far better—than anything this lady offered.

When he closed his eyes in his own bed as the fingers of dawn crept over the horizon, it was Sophia, her expression full of wonder, who filled his dreams.