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down her spine as she met that deceptively lazy gaze made her feel…wicked. Thank goodness they were friends, and she’d only caught him by surprise.
    And thank goodness she knew what a scoundrel he was.
    Shaking herself, she turned toward Barbara at the refreshment table. “Good evening, my love,” she said, kissing the Marquis of Pelton’s second daughter on one cheek.
    “You look wonderful.”
    Barbara returned the gesture, her expression one of undisguised delight. “I told you to try Madame Costanza,”
    she whispered. “I’m surprised Melbourne didn’t have an apoplexy when he saw you. How did you talk him into letting you out of your bedchamber?”
    “He didn’t see the gown until you did,” Eleanor returned in a low voice. It wouldn’t do any good for anyone else to overhear where she’d begun shopping for dresses—not with Melbourne’s clause about scandal. “And besides, we made an agreement. I, my dear, may do as I please.”
    “It does appear that way,” Barbara admitted with a chuckle. “And you look absolutely stunning, by the by. I think Wendell DuMer was drooling.”
    Sin and Sensibility / 33
    Eleanor grinned. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me, Bar. In fact, I—”
    “Lady Eleanor,” a masculine voice came from behind her.
    She turned around. “Mr. Cobb-Harding,” she said, not having to feign her surprise. “I thought you still in Paris.”
    “I returned a few days ago. The first dance of the evening is about to begin, and I notice you haven’t used your dance card. Will you do me the honor of joining me for the waltz?”
    Not even five minutes into her adventure, and already she’d been asked to dance by someone Melbourne would have rejected. As if it was Stephen Cobb-Harding’s fault that his father was only a baronet, and that his mother’s family, the Cobbs, had had the money—hence the hyphen-ated surname.
    “I would be delighted,” she answered, taking his out-stretched hand.
    The orchestra began the waltz just as they reached the cleared area of floor in the center of the ballroom. Mr.
    Cobb-Harding slid a hand about her waist and drew them into the dance.
    “I’ve been trying to find a way to do this for a year,”
    he said, his light blue gaze focused somewhere below her neck.
    Well, she hadn’t worn a low-cut gown by accident. In a way, it was refreshing to be seen as something—someone—other than a member of the almighty Griffins, even if it was only her bosom being noticed.
    “Then why have you waited until now?”
    Finally his gaze beneath wavy blond hair lifted to her face again. “I’ll give you three guesses, my lady.”
    Three, indeed . “Ah. Well, my brothers and I have re-34 / Suzanne Enoch
    cently come to an understanding. And so you and I may dance whenever we wish to do so.”
    He smiled. “That is the best news I’ve heard in weeks.”
    “I don’t know about that, but thank—”
    “I do. And thank you .”
    Hm. She’d always thought of Stephen Cobb-Harding as handsome, and though she’d never experienced it firsthand, she’d heard of his reputation for wit and charm.
    Apparently wit, relative poverty, and a low social standing among the nobility made him too…dangerous for her.
    For heaven’s sake, she had a brain. Dancing with a man didn’t mean she intended to marry him. Yes, here she was, seeking out her own husband and her own adventure, but some mild, harmless fun could fit in quite nicely.
    “You are quite welcome, Mr. Cobb-Harding.”
    “Stephen, please. Sometimes I think people forget what they’re about to tell me by the time they’ve finished saying my name.”
    Eleanor chuckled. “I think it has an air of distinction about it, myself.”
    “In light of that compliment, Lady Eleanor, allow me to confide that I’ve heard some rather off-putting tales about men who don’t meet your brothers’ approval. Just how many limbs am I risking?”
    “None. That, I promise you. In fact, if they even scowl