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jesting. I cannot go to such a place.”
    Jeremy pursed his own lips as he moved back to his side of the carriage. Being so close to her was having an odd effect on his normally solid control.
    “I told you I wished to show you what you were fighting against. Help you understand your enemy. This gathering, it is exactly what you claim to despise.”
    “And that is why I cannot go!” she repeated, her tone that which he guessed she would use with a slow-witted servant or small child.
    He arched a brow. “You want to see your enemy, don’t you?”
    Penelope was silent for a long moment, tilting her head as she stared at him across the shadowy vehicle. Jeremy shifted a bit under her scrutiny. It was almost like she could truly see him. See more than he was on the outside, more than his public persona. See him .
    “You are my enemy, Jeremy,” she whispered.
    He might have been disappointed, he might have felt that he had made no progress with her, except that she called him by his given name. And hearing it from her lips was utterly arousing. It also showed him that despite all her protests, she was beginning to trust him…if only just a little.
    “I was your enemy,” he said softly. “But no more.”
    The carriage stopped, but none of his servants came to open the door, just as he had ordered. He wanted Penelope to be the one who made the decision to go inside. She had to guide her own journey. If she could point to anyone else as the catalyst later, it would detract from her utter surrender to her own heart.
    “Come inside with me,” he said, “and see what it is you are fighting against. No one will know who you are. They will assume you are just another woman I’ve claimed as my lover. You can watch the men of the ton in action and see what kinds of women they choose to philander with.”
    Penelope swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat working. Such a delicate throat indeed, her pale skin nearly translucent it was so fair. She stared at the carriage door, then back toward him.
    “Fine,” she finally said with a frown. “I will go inside. But I don’t want you to do anything that would make someone think we were lovers. No…touching me in a way that is familiar.”
    Jeremy drew back. He could hardly contain his chuckle. He didn’t think he could remember the last time a woman had denied him. It spurned him on, drove him to make her change her mind all the more.
    And it also piqued his curiosity. What had happened to Penelope Norman that put so much starch in her spirit? Who had made her fear sensuality and sin rather than embrace all its pleasures?
    “I promise, I will do nothing more than take your arm,” he said softly.
    At least for now.
    She nodded, the motion jerky. “Then let us go inside. I want to see this infamous Cyprian ball.”
     
    “Would you like a drink?”
    Penelope jolted at the soft seduction of Jeremy’s voice. It raked across her raw senses like satin over her skin.
    “W-Will I be safe here alone?” she asked, hating how her voice trembled.
    Jeremy looked around. He had brought her into the Cyprian ball half an hour before. But when too many masked revelers identified him and wanted to know who his new companion was, he had escorted her to this small, private terrace that overlooked the ballroom below. Penelope was just as happy. Amongst the partygoers she felt surrounded, stifled. Exposed.
    “You will be quite unharmed, I assure you. And I shall be back in a few scant moments.” He smiled down at her, and Penelope shivered.
    She felt protected by her mask, but she also felt protected by Jeremy’s presence. Like he would keep anyone from harming her. Even though she knew the greatest harm could come from him. Despite all his declarations to the opposite, she still sensed a feral, animal quality that lurked beneath his proper attire.
    “Very well.” She nodded. “My throat is parched.”
    He nodded, then left her alone on the terrace. Penelope turned back to the