“Don’t lose heart. We’ll stay for a little while. Maybe he’s on his way at this very moment.”
“Or maybe he was here earlier and left already.”
Just then, a golden-haired man in a black mask strolled into the ballroom. Looking relaxed and confident, he picked up a glass of champagne and let his gaze sweep around the room. Clara’s eyes narrowed.
She knew that walk...that body.It was him.
A thrill rushed through her like a firebrand. She stood motionless, watching him intently. He looked as handsome as she remembered. Even more so, after the week she’d spent dreaming about him. She was completely dumbstruck by the sight of him.
“Is that him?” Sophia asked. “The man who just walked in?”
Clara nodded.
“Upon my word,” Sophia said. “No wonder you couldn’t forget him. He’s incredible.”
They watched him move around the room, composed and at ease. Clad in the usual formal attire—black jacket, white waistcoat, and white necktie—he raised his glass to a man on the other side of the room, who raised his glass in return before continuing his conversation with a lady.
“Do you know his name?” Clara asked. “Have you ever seen him before?”
“Never. I only attended a handful of Cakras Balls with James, and I don’t recall seeing this man, though James and I weren’t here to socialize with others.”
“What about during the Season last year?”
“I never saw him at any of the parties or balls I attended. I most certainly would have remembered him.”
Clara took a deep breath. “What is wrong with me? My stomach is doing somersaults.”
“It’s called infatuation, and you’re infected with it. But it’s understandable, now that I’ve seen him for myself. Let’s walk this way so you can collect yourself before you speak to him.”
Speak to him.At the mere mention of it, Clara’s stomach careened again. “What will I say? I can’t ask him his name. That would be against the rules. How will I learn anything?”
“You’ll have to be creative. Are you ready?”
Once again, Clara found herself caught in the sticky web of his unparalleled good looks and his debilitating sexual allure.
“Heaven help me, I could never be ready for a man like him.”
It was the perfume that gave her away as she brushed past his elbow, in a ridiculous dark wig, no less. She smelled of strawberries again. A brief glance at her mouth confirmed it. It was indeed the American.
Seger stopped and turned to look at her from behind after she’d passed by and felt the immediate stirrings of unfulfilled arousal. Tonight, she was with a friend instead of the older woman from the week before. No, not a friend... Seger’s brows drew together as he noticed the wig on the other woman as well. It was probably Miss Wilson’s sister, the Duchess of Wentworth.
At that precise instant, the single heiress glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes locked and held, and recognition occurred. She stared at him for a few seconds, then faced front again.
Seger shook his head. What the devil were they doing here? It was a well-known fact that American heiresses were bombarding London in a mad dash for husbands with titles. Why would she come here to look for one and risk her reputation? Did she not realize that skirting a scandal last time had been a complete miracle? The duchess should have known better.
Or perhaps that’s why the single heiress was here in the first place. To stir up a scandal and force someone’s hand.
Well, it wouldn’t be his hand. He had spent the past eight years learning how to guard himself against that sort of thing.
Unfortunately for her, however, it probably wouldn’t force anyone else’s hand either. Most of the gentlemen here were not in possession of a great deal of honor when it came to young ladies and scandals. They would simply watch from the shadows as she danced in her noose. Besides that, most of them were already married.
Just then, in his peripheral vision, Seger noticed an older man making his way toward Miss Wilson. It was not surprising. Even in that ridiculous wig, she was stunning. It was only a matter of time before every other man in the room would want to experience her delights, for she was a rare contradiction. She had the look of a professional beauty, yet with such innocence. And those lips were enough to bring any man to his knees.
The man bowed before Miss Wilson and held out his ungloved hand.
Seger tensed as he watched.
Miss Wilson politely refused the gentleman’s advance. He nodded courteously and backed away. Seger exhaled a breath of relief. She was lucky that time, but how long would her luck hold?
