“Yes, yes,” Caroline murmured. “I heard he stopped by, but I haven’t seen him.”

“I doubt he’s left yet,” Dunford said with a wicked grin. “In fact, I’m certain he plans to stay the entire evening.”

“Planning to torture me, no doubt,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“Did you say something, my dear?” Caroline inquired.

“No, no, I was just clearing my throat,” Emma said hastily, clearing her throat.

“Would you like another glass of lemonade for that?” Dunford’s voice was solicitous, but from his expression, Emma suspected he’d heard what she said.

“No, thank you,” Emma said, holding up the glass in her hand, “I still have some left.” She smiled at Dunford and took a healthy gulp.

“Well,” Lady Summerton declared as if no one had spoken since her last monologue. “I’m sure even Ashbourne wouldn’t dare leave without greeting his hostess, Caroline. I’m positive he’ll be here soon. Absolutely positive.”

“So am I,” Dunford agreed, watching Emma with a twinkle in his eye. She smiled weakly, acutely uncomfortable.

“Of course,” Lady Summerton continued, “I’m not sure if you should allow him near your niece, Caroline.” She turned to Emma without pausing for breath. “He has a dreadful reputation. If you value yours, you’ll stay away from him.”

“I’ll certainly try,” Emma put in brightly.

“Do you know what I heard?” Lady Summerton asked breathily, to no one in particular.

“I’m sure I can’t imagine,” Ned replied.

“I heard,” Lady Summerton paused for emphasis and leaned forward conspiratorially, “that Ashbourne, er, shall we say, ‘said good-bye’ to his opera singer and has finally decided to look among respectable ladies. I think he’s looking for a wife.”

Emma choked on her lemonade.

“Are you all right, dear?” Caroline asked. “Is your headache still bothering you?”

“No, it certainly isn’t my head that’s bothering me.”

Lady Summerton plodded on. “Clarissa Trent is after him. Her mother told me. And do you know what?”

Only Caroline was attentive—and polite— enough to murmur, “What?”

“I think she has a chance of getting him.”

“I imagine she’ll be disappointed,” Dunford predicted.

“Well, she did say she was holding out for a duke,” Belle said caustically.

“I would rather not discuss her,” Ned declared.

“Emma, are you feeling well?” asked Caroline. “You look a trifle pale.”

An awkward silence fell over the small group. Finally, Lady Summerton, never one to enjoy conversational lulls, commented, “Er, I’m sure he’ll show up soon, Caroline. So stop your worrying.”

Even Caroline, impeccably mannered as she was, could not fail to murmur softly, “I wasn’t aware that I was worrying.”

“What was that, dear?” Lady Summerton inquired.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Caroline shot Emma a knowing glance. “I was just clearing my throat.”

Emma smiled conspiratorially. “Perhaps we should get you some lemonade, dear aunt.”

“I really don’t think that will be necessary, dear niece.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up soon,” Lady Summerton declared.

Emma estimated that she’d been back in the ballroom for at least fifteen minutes and decided miserably that Lady Summerton was probably right. She wondered how on earth she would be able to go through the motions of polite conversation with the man who had just nearly ravished her in her bedroom. Cowardice finally emerged as the solution and she smiled weakly. “Actually, Aunt Caroline, I am feeling a little tired. Perhaps a little fresh air would help.”

Dunford jumped in immediately, eager to provoke Alex’s jealousy by walking with Emma in the gardens. “If you would like to go to the garden, it would be my pleasure to escort you, Miss Dunster.”

“It would be very difficult for me to meet the guest of honor if you insist upon monopolizing her time,” boomed a deep voice. It was all Emma could do to keep from cringing as everyone turned to face Alex.

“Why, your grace,” gushed Lady Summerton, “we were just talking about you.”

“Were you?” Alex answered laconically, fixing his deadly stare upon the ridiculous woman.

“Er, yes, we were,” Lady Summerton stammered.

Emma was stunned by the sheer presence of the man. His tall, broad frame somehow seemed to dominate the entire ballroom. Indeed, a hush had swept across the crowd as everyone craned their necks to watch the well-known duke. He was, Emma had to admit, definitely worth watching. He exuded raw power that seemed barely contained by his elegant black and white evening clothes. His unruly black hair had refused to conform to any sense of a hairstyle, and one lock fell characteristically over his forehead. But it was definitely his piercing green eyes that made him appear so dangerous. And just then those green eyes were fixed right on Emma. “Miss Dunster, I presume,” he said silkily, taking her hand.

“H-How do you do?” Emma managed to say. A firebolt charged through her as he lifted her hand to his mouth. And although Emma had only spent one night out in London society, she knew that his lips had remained overlong on the pale skin of her wrist.

“I do very well, indeed, now that I’ve met you.”

Lady Summerton gasped. Caroline’s eyebrows shot up in a rather shocked expression. Dunford chuckled. Ned and Belle openly stared. Emma wondered if she’d blushed to a deep crimson or merely a light rose. “You’re very kind,” she finally said.