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recognised him. The thought he might have been such an insignificant feature of her life that she did not even remember him had made him so boiling mad, he’d had to march across the ballroom and challenge her. Hurt her. And the only way he could think of to do it was to make her think he was only interested in her stepdaughter—when nothing could be further from the truth. He’d scarcely been aware of her, throughout this entire set.
    Damn her, but Lydia had even ruined this for him, too. He’d used to enjoy dancing for its own sake. What could be more pleasant than indulging in vigorous exercise alongside an appreciative female? And then being able to return her to her seat, and walk away, and select another one, without risk of censure?
    But he was not enjoying dancing with Rose Morgan. Not with his head full of Lydia. Not knowing that the moment would come when he would have to return the girl to her seat and stand within strangling distance of her all-too-alluring stepmother once more. And make polite conversation, when what he wanted was to demand an explanation.
    It was hard to know whether he was angrier with her for being here, or himself for reacting to her in such an illogical, irrational...uncontrollable way.
    His face set, he steeled himself to escort Rose across the floor. Why the hell should he let her make him feel in the least bit uncomfortable? He had as much right to be here as she did. More. He belonged in society, had been born to a position of rank and privilege. And what was more, he’d really made something of himself. People no longer assumed he would never amount to anything, because of the family he’d come from. They’d seen him turn his fortunes around by dint of hard work and resourcefulness. He’d become famous for being the first Hemingford for generations who hadn’t resorted to charming an heiress into marriage to pull the family out of debt. He’d come back to town knowing that, at last, he could marry any woman he damn well chose.
    And he was not going to let her return to society spoil his plans.
    * * *
    ‘This is all your fault,’ Lydia had said to Robert, as Rothersthorpe led Rose on to the dance floor. ‘You might have known that being so strict with her would drive her to some act of rebellion.’
    ‘Well, I don’t regret sending Lord Abergele to the rightabout,’ he retorted. ‘Not when everyone knows his pockets are to let.’
    ‘What does that have to say to anything? Rose has no intention of marrying the first man she dances with. She has come to town to find her feet socially and enjoy herself. She was the very first one to declare she would not think her Season a disaster if she did not find a man who truly loved her, whom she could love in return. She knows it won’t be easy to find a man like that, on just one trip to town. But you are making it impossible. How is she going to get to know any man well enough to know if she could possibly fall in love with him, if you won’t let any of them get anywhere near her?’
    She’d never raised her voice to him before and he clearly didn’t know how to take it.
    ‘I’m only trying to protect her,’ he protested, looking for all the world like a man who had gone to pick an apple and accidentally put his hand in a wasp’s nest. ‘She is so innocent...’
    ‘But she is not a fool. You should let her associate with all sorts of men, Robert, and let her judge for herself. Do you really think she is the sort to be taken in by a handsome face and a lot of flummery?’
    ‘You never know.’ He sighed. ‘You hear about it all the time. And Rose is not only extremely wealthy, but extraordinarily pretty, too.’
    He pulled out the chair behind which he was standing, so that he could squeeze through, and sit next to Lydia.
    ‘The only danger, so far as I can see,’ she said, ‘comes from you keeping her on too tight a leash. I wouldn’t put it past her to start a flirtation with the most unsuitable man she can find