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deep male voice directly behind her almost made her yelp in surprise, but Haley’s astonishment had more to do with how familiar its timbre was than its location. He couldn’t be!
    “I was . . .” The words seemed to dry and catch in her throat as she turned to face her handsome friend from the gallery. Green. His eyes are impossibly green. Oh, dear!
    “Ah, Mr. Hawke!” Mrs. Bianca stepped in eagerly. “Mrs. Shaw, Miss Moreland, may I introduce Mr. Galen Hawke?”
    Aunt Alice managed to pink up like a girl at her first outing as she extended a gloved hand, openly smitten with the handsome Hawke. “You may! What a delight to meet you!”
    Haley bit the inside of her cheek to ensure she didn’t follow suit, or give in to the nervous bubble of laughter at being so squarely cornered. If he mentions the gallery, I’m not sure what I can say to explain myself.
    As he gallantly bowed over her aunt’s fingers, his gaze lifted to meet Haley’s, and Haley almost jumped at the sensation of fire and ice down her spine.
    He spoke as he straightened to face her. “You’ll forgive my impatience to meet you, Miss Moreland, but I had no faith that you would simply find me.”
    Haley gasped, but the reaction was lost on the other women as they laughed and fawned on the striking younger man in their midst.
    “What is to forgive? Miss Moreland is highly regarded and it speaks well that you wished to meet her and make her acquaintance, don’t you agree, Mrs. Shaw?” Mrs. Bianca spoke in a breathless rush.
    “I shall have to,” Aunt Alice said. “We have so few acquaintances in London.”
    Haley’s eyes widened at the mortifying confession, but she knew there was nothing for it now. Instead, she did her best to recover what small remnants of calm she could and disregard how much more potent Mr. Galen Hawke was in full candlelight. “There, you see? An easy introduction, after all, and you’ve apparently been forgiven, so what more could we say?”
    “Tell me how you find London, Miss Moreland.”
    He spoke as if it were still just the two of them alone in the shadows. He looked only at her as if nothing else mattered—not the setting, nor the dozen people within earshot, or even the two rapt elderly ladies fanning themselves at his elbows.
    And without realizing it, Haley felt herself doing the same. “I would rather be home, I think. But you mustn’t tell anyone, Mr. Hawke.”
    “Your secret is safe with me.”
    “What secrets are we keeping?” Herbert came up to the quartet, his brow a bit moist after enjoying a rousing debate on dog breeding techniques with Mr. Melrose. He held out a hand to Mr. Hawke. “Not that I am one for them, sir! I admit, whatever bits of news I manage to remember, I cannot then also remember whom I should tell and whom I shouldn’t. It’s quite a quandary, so I warn everyone to keep me out of the game!” He laughed, and then went on cheerfully. “I am Herbert Trumble. And you are?”
    Mrs. Bianca interjected herself with a nervous flutter. “This is Mr. Galen Hawke. I was just introducing him to Mrs. Shaw and Miss Moreland.”
    “At your service, Mr. Trumble.” Galen nodded his head, his expression politely neutral as Herbert continued to pump his arm up and down with distracted enthusiasm. “Miss Moreland was telling me how she was finding her time in London.”
    Herbert grinned. “She loves it! But then what woman doesn’t wish for all the social niceties?”
    Haley reached out to gently restrain Herbert by the arm. “Perhaps you should . . . let go of Mr. Hawke.”
    “Ah!” Herbert released Galen, his look apologetic. “I forgot I had ahold of you, sir! My goodness, I hope I haven’t just done the same thing to Mr. Melrose! In this press of people, I suppose it’s instinct to want to grab onto something and hope you get pulled out of the crush eventually, eh?”
    Galen nodded. “A good instinct if you’re drowning.”
    Haley held her breath at the quiet barb but