“I deserved that.”
“And more,” she said, knowing that she was on the edge of going too far.
He nodded. “And more. But you did not deserve the cartoon.”
“And you’ve only tonight had a change of heart?”
He shook his head. “I’ve regretted it since it ran. It was in poor taste.”
“No need to explain. Business is business.” She knew that well. Had lived by the words for years. It was part of why Chase and West worked so well together. Neither asked questions of the other as long as information flowed smoothly between them.
But it did not mean she forgave him for what he’d done. For requiring her to be present this night, to find marriage, to be accepted. Without him . . . she might have had more time.
Not much time.
She ignored the thought.
“Children are not business,” he said. “She shouldn’t have been a part of it.”
She did not like the turn in the conversation, the way he referred to Caroline, gently, as though he cared. She did not like the idea that he cared. She looked away.
He sensed the shift in her. Changed the topic. “How did you know me?”
“When we arrived, my brother pointed out the lions in the room.” The lie came easily.
He tilted his head. “Those who are regal and important?”
“Those who are lazy and dangerous.”
He laughed low and deep, the sound rippling through her. She did not like that, either, the way he seemed to catch her off guard even as she was at her most guarded. “I may be dangerous, Lady Georgiana, but I have never in my life been lazy.”
And then she wasn’t off guard at all, but rather exceedingly comfortable. Tempted. He could not have meant the words to be so tempting, but damned if they weren’t . . . damned if they didn’t make her want to flirt shamelessly with him and ask him to prove just how hard he would work for a reward. Damned if he didn’t have the same effect on her that he did in her club, when she was disguised and he was diverting.
Damned if he didn’t make her wonder what it might be like to meet him in the darkness, another woman at another time in another place. To give in to temptation.
For the first time. Since the last time.
Since the only time.
She stiffened at the thought. He was a very dangerous man, and she was not Chase tonight. This was not her club. She had no power here.
He did, however.
She looked toward the glittering ballroom. “I should return to the festivities. And my chaperones.”
“Which are legion, no doubt.”
“I’ve a sister-in-law with sisters-in-law. There is nothing a gaggle of women enjoys more than adorning the unmarried.”
He smiled at the word. “Adorned is right.” His gaze flickered to the feathers protruding from her coif. She resisted the urge to rip them out. She’d agreed to the damn things as a trade—she wore them, and in return was allowed to arrive at and leave the ball in her own conveyance.
She scowled. “Don’t look at them.” He returned his attention to her eyes, and she recognized the humor dancing in his brown gaze. “And don’t laugh. You try dressing for a ball with three ladies and their maids fawning about.”
His lips twitched. “I take it you do not enjoy fashion.”
She swatted at an errant feather that had fallen into her field of vision, as though she’d summoned it with her vitriol. “Whatever gave you such an idea?”
He laughed then, and she enjoyed the sound, almost forgetting why they were here.
He reminded her. “A duchess and a marchioness will help you change minds.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He was no fool. He knew precisely what she was doing.
He rocked back on his heels. “Let’s not play games. You’re angling for Society to welcome you back. You’ve trotted out your brother, his wife, her family—” He looked over her shoulder toward the ballroom. “Hell, you’ve even danced with the Duke of Lamont.”
“For someone who does not know me, you seem to be rather focused on my evening.”
“I am a newsman. I notice things that are out of the ordinary.”
“I’m perfectly ordinary,” she said.
He laughed. “Of course you are.”
She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable—not knowing how she should behave—not knowing who she should pretend to be for this man who seemed to see everything. Finally, she said, “It seems an impossible feat, changing their minds.”
Something flashed across his face, there, then gone. Irritation flared. “That was not a demand for pity.”
“It was not pity.”
“Good,” she said. What, then?
“You can hold your ground with them, you know.” She could do more than that. His thoughts appeared to go in a similar direction. “How did you know who Lady Mary’s suitors are?”
“Everyone knows that.”
He did not waver. “Everyone who has paid attention to the season for the last year.”
She shrugged. “Just because I do not attend parties doesn’t mean I am ignorant of the workings of the ton.”