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define flashed through her as their eyes remained fixed on each other. Fear? Excitement? Anticipation? Or dread?
    She could not look away from him, the impact of his bold stare so overwhelming that she simply stood there helpless, unaware of anything happening around her. It was only when his gaze dropped to the man standing next to him that she was able to jerk her eyes away and became aware of Marcus laughing at something Andrew had said.
    Shaken, she forced a smile and tried to pretend the odd moment had never happened. It was only by the greatest effort that she kept herself from looking again in the stranger’s vicinity.
    â€œOh, I say,” Lord Coleman murmured from where he stood at her side, “here comes Percival Forrest. Did not expect to see him at this sort of affair.”
    â€œWho is that big, bruising-looking fellow with him?” asked Caldwell. “I do not believe that I have met him before.”
    Percival advanced upon them before Caldwell’s question could be answered and, bowing gracefully before Sophy, said, “Lady Marlowe, how delightful to see you again. How have you been?”
    Sophy made some reply, unbearably aware of the tall, intimidating stranger at Percival’s side.
    â€œLady Marlowe, allow me to introduce my friend Viscount Harrington,” Percival went on smoothly. “Like you, this is his first London Season.”
    Coolly acknowledging Lord Harrington, Sophy thought her heart would literally stop when her eyes plunged once again into the depths of his devil green stare. He smiled at her, a smile that made her heart kick into a mad gallop, and she did not know if that smile was the most exciting thing she had ever seen or the most terrifying.

Chapter Two

    I ntroductions were exchanged with the other members of the group around Sophy, but she was hardly aware of anything but the imposing man in front of her. He was definitely not handsome, she decided judiciously, as his features were too harsh and forbidding. But there was something about him ... something dashingly attractive about his dark, craggy visage and those glinting green eyes.
    Even when he turned away to acknowledge the other introductions and she was no longer the object of his forthright stare, she was tangibly aware of Lord Harrington. And she did not like it. The man was simply too arrogant by half! The way he had looked at her—as if she were a tempting morsel he might snatch up and consume at any moment. By the Devil’s eyes! She would like him to just try it.
    Lord Harrington’s name was not unknown to her. There had been much gossip about him when he had arrived in London a few weeks ago, and Sophy had naturally heard the bare facts surrounding his unexpected ascension to his new title. That he was looking for a wife had also been mentioned, along with news that half the young ladies of the ton were sighing over him and eagerly setting their caps for him.
    If he had flashed those same swooning young damsels the sort of look he had just sent her, she reflected wryly, their reactions were understandable. Of course, she was utterly indifferent to him. It would do him no good to waste his charms on her. In fact, she admitted with unaccustomed malice, she would take great delight in spurning him.
    Sophy was appalled at her own thoughts. Under lowered lashes she studied him, wondering why he aroused so much antagonism in her breast. He was no threat to her, and had done nothing out of the ordinary. Well, he had stared. Still, she had no honest reason to feel as she did.
    She had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, she told herself stoutly. Not as a lover, if I were inclined to take a lover, which I am not, thank you very much. And as for a husband! She nearly snorted aloud. Viscount Harrington was certainly not the sort of man she would choose to wed if she were ever foolish enough to marry again.
    Without warning, his eyes met hers, and Sophy was conscious of the way her