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Bea’s mind registered those words slowly. Just by dancing with him, she knew that he was a man of ruthless purpose. He would never lie; he wouldn’t bother.

Then she became aware that ragged breathing was causing her bosom to … to heave. His eyes hadn’t strayed below her chin, but he knew.

Of course, he knew. The expression in his eyes was pure, sensual masculinity, distilled.

Surely, he realized that gentlemen didn’t look at her this way. She was the opposite of desirable. She dropped into a curtsy, and as she rose, politeness demanded that she meet his eyes once again.

He was looking at her with a wary, puzzled expression. Perhaps he was shocked that she hadn’t tripped him up and fallen to the ground.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said. Then she turned and walked away, which wasn’t entirely polite. He was supposed to escort her back to Lady Alcon, but she had a feeling that his training would insist that he murmur something about partnering her again at some point.

No.

She had to excise him from her mind. That dance was—

Magic. And over.

It was over.

Query: Does a duke think about a plump partridge from the country after his sister forces him to dance with her?

Probability: Too depressing to put into numbers.

CHAPTER FOUR

April 15, 1814

THE SAVILLE CLUB

69 BROOK STREET

“Lennox! Prinny wants everyone to go to the Pantheon now.” Lord Devin erupted into the library of the Saville Club. “There’s a troupe of Russian opera dancers dressed like daisies who’ve lost most of their petals, and he wants to pick some flowers.”

Jonah Cecil Crawford Lloyd—also known as the Duke of Lennox—didn’t turn from the window, just shook his head. “Can’t. I have to go to Almack’s Assembly Rooms for a few hours at the least.”

“Where bachelors go to die?” Devin snorted. “You’re not thinking about taking a wife, are you? Does grief have you lurking in the library like some great raven?”

Jonah turned on his heel and surveyed his best friend. They were both blessed with freakishly large shoulders, but Devin was wearing an elegant violet-colored coat hemmed with embroidered silver scallops studded by pearls. “I’d rather be a raven than a peacock in that coat.”

Devin chuckled. “I look au courant, whereas you look like the vicar. This Season, coats are cut short, with the tails to the back of the knee. Yours is about as fashionable as a cassock.”

Jonah shrugged. “You’re wearing knee breeches, so you can accompany me to the assembly rooms. You can peacock around the ballroom, showing off your exposed belly.”

Devin’s thick brows drew together. “Absolutely not. Almack’s is swarming with marriageable girls determined to attach themselves to my arm, demanding a ring.”

“My sister is one,” Jonah remarked.

He saw his comment register in Devin’s eyes. “Of course,” his friend said hastily. “The beautiful Lady Regina. Just so! I’m shocked I forgot. Debuted a few weeks ago, didn’t she? No offense, I hope?”

“None taken.”

“I’m not concerned about marriage yet,” Devin added. “If I was, I’d be joining the men at her feet, no doubt.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“What?” Devin was frowning again.

“You’re my friend,” Jonah said, keeping it simple. “I wouldn’t wish Regina on my worst enemy. Also, she’s betrothed, thank God. Peregrine took her on. My father set it up before he died.”