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Lord Sterling and had paddled her there and then. She had raged like a little demon, the child had.
    The child had grown.
    “Eric, may we dance?” Anne Marie prodded sweetly. “I promise an introduction. Father, do remind me from now on not to have parties when Mandy is our guest, will you?”
    Thomas laughed. Eric joined in, and Anne Marie grinned prettily. Eric gathered his wits about him and reached politely for her arm. “Anne Marie, I am honored.”
    He led her out to the floor, and they began to dance. Anne Marie gave him a lazy smile as he swept her expertly about the floor, seeking out the woman who had seized his attention. He saw her again. Saw her laugh for her partner, saw the devil’s own sizzle in her eyes. He thought that he recognized something of himself within that look. She would not be governed by convention, she would demand her own way, and fight for it fiercely.
    The sound of her laughter came to him again and he felt a reckless fever stir within him. Come hell itself, and time be damned, he would have to have that woman.
    Who was the man who caused her laughter, he wondered.
    Anne Marie, watching him indulgently, answered the question that he did not ask. “That’s Damien Roswell—her cousin,” she said sweetly.
    “Cousin?” He smiled. His hand tightened upon hers.
    Anne Marie nodded sagely. “But—and this is a grave ‘but,’ I must warn you!—the lady is in love.”
    “Oh?”
    Love so often meant nothing. Girls of Amanda Sterling’s tender young age were in and out of love daily. Their fathers seldom let the affairs go past fluttering hearts and dreams.
    Yet her eyes were wild, deep with laughter and secrets and passion. He smiled, thinking she was one lass who should probably be wed and quickly—to an appropriate person, of course.
    “And he loves her,” Anne Marie warned.
    “Who is ‘he’?”
    “Why, Lord Tarryton. Robert Tarryton. ‘Tis said that he has adored her for years, as she has adored him. She will become eighteen in March, and it is believed that he will ask Lord Sterling for her hand then. It is a perfect match. They are all loyal Tories, landed and wealthy. You’re frowning, Eric,” Anne Marie warned him.
    “Am I?” Tarryton. He knew the man, if vaguely. The old Lord Tarryton had been a good Indian fighter, but Eric didn’t think that this young Tarryton could hold a candle to his lamented father. Their properties were not so far apart that they had not met upon occasion, nor did the social organization of Virginia allow for much secrecy in private life.
    There were rumors in very high places that Lord Tarryton was seeking a union with the widowed Duchess of Owenfield. As the lady was young and childless, dispensations could be made to give the title to Lord Tarryton.
    “Aye, you’re frowning! And you’re very fierce when you do so. You take my breath away, you cause me quite to shiver and make me wonder what woman would dare to wish that you might court her!”
    He grinned at Anne Marie’s sweet dramatics and thought that they would always be the very best of friends. He started to assure her that she would dare anything she chose when he found himself staring over her shoulder instead.
    Amanda Sterling had ceased to dance. Her young escortwas whispering earnestly to her near the door. She kissed his cheek, then watched as he retrieved his cloak and hat and discreetly disappeared into the night.
    She stood still a minute. Then she, too, hurried toward the door, procuring a huge black hooded cape from the halltree, and then rushed out into the night.
    “What the—”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Why, she’s just departed.”
    “Amanda!” Anne Marie cried in distress. “Oh, how could she! If Lord Sterling returns …”
    Eric glanced at her sharply. She was very pale, not acting at all. “He is about on business this night. Perhaps he will not come back—he sometimes stays gone.” She paused, her eyes wide. Eric realized that Anne Marie was