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am dreadfully sorry to have caused you so much inconvenience, milord,” she replied icily. “But I did not ask you to come to my rescue.”
    “Perhaps not,” observed he dryly. “But, connoisseur of beauty that I am, I did not wish to discover your beautiful body lying somewhere in the kennels outside.”
    Fancy could not repress a shudder. Mobs could do things like that. She was about to offer the Earl a somewhat stilted apology when he put the flask to her lips. It was either drink or have rum splashed relentlessly down the front of her costume. Fancy swallowed and coughed as the fiery liquid hit her stomach.
    Morgane returned the flask to Cooke, who accepted it sheepishly. Then the Earl cast his dark gaze on the rest of the company, still gathered around. “I believe Miss Harper is sufficiently recovered to be taken to the dressing room. Castleford, kindly bring my coat.”
    And before Fancy could even think, the Earl was on his feet and had lifted her easily into his arms. “I can walk,” she cried angrily, as he began to move offstage.
    “Quite probably,” he returned, unperturbed. “But I do not intend that you should. And it would be of considerable help to me, since you are not exactly of sylphlike proportions, if you could so conquer your aversion to me as to manage to assist me by putting your arms around my neck.”
    Fancy, mindful of the others watching and aware of her own lightheadedness, reluctantly did as she was told. His shirt was cool under her fingers and as her hands met behind his neck she felt them brushed by his dark hair. A strange feeling shot through her as she became aware of the feel of his arms around her and, as the room began to whirl once more, she closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder.
    Thus he carried her to the dressing room where, banishing the others with another dark look, he carried her inside and set her carefully on her feet, keeping his hands on her elbows to support her. “Now, we will see if you can stand.”
    Fancy, alone with only this dark man and his friend Castleford, felt a little tremor of fear. There was so much power in the Earl - raw, arrogant power. He was used to having his way - about everything. And she had twice defied him. Once when she refused his offer of keeping and just lately when he had urged her to leave St. James’s Square.
    She forced her eyes to meet his and was aware that she swayed slightly. “If you will release my elbows, I will see.”
    With a lazy smile the Earl took his hands away. Slowly, Fancy, putting each foot down carefully, paced the length of the room and back. “I am fully recovered now,” she said politely. “And I thank you for your services.”
    “Your thanks are accepted,” replied Morgane laconically, “but my services are not ended.”
    As her perplexed expression revealed her bewilderment, he chuckled dryly. “I do not propose to drive off and leave you here. Since we are going in the same direction I shall drop you at your door and thus be assured that you are safe. For one night at least.”
    Fancy drew herself up. The thought of a carriage ride in the company of the dark Earl was almost as terrifying as a rioting crowd, but she would not let him see that. “My man, Henry, will be here for me with two grooms, so I will not need your kind escort.”
    For a moment the Earl scowled. “I believe I shall just wait around until the redoubtable Henry arrives and thus assure myself of your safety.”
    “Milord,” said Fancy. “I really do appreciate your concern on my behalf. But I am a grown woman, perfectly capable of managing my own affairs.”
    Morgane laughed, a deep humorless laugh. “You are a foolish chit,” he declared. “Who knows little of life and who thinks herself enamored of an illusory phantom called the theater.”
    Fancy bristled. “Perhaps so, milord, but my love is at least genuine, not induced by rich establishments and fabulous jewels.”
    “Touché, ”