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a little shy. James felt his jaw tighten in anger. As quickly as he could, he hid the expression beneath a practiced smile. He did not want Adele to worry his outrage was aimed at her.
    â€œI have saved you? How wonderful. I have always wanted to be
le chevalier en armure étincelante
. I thank you for providing the opportunity.”
    â€œYou are teasing me.”
    â€œYes,” he admitted. “Should I cease?”
    â€œNo. Thank you. You . . .”
    â€œYou do stop your sentences at the most interesting points.”
    â€œYou don’t tease like the . . . them.”
    â€œLady Adele, I must warn you. The day you are able to fairly compare me to those persons”—he nodded toward the little cluster of Patience’s friends—“in any particular, is the day I will have to kill myself.”
    â€œWell. I would not want that.” A small, wistful smile lit her eyes. They were, he noticed, a deeper blue than Lady Patience’s famous cornflower orbs. There were flecks of black and gray within them. A man could go deep into such eyes, even drown there.
    Why has no one noticed how lovely this girl is?
Her skin was clear and satin smooth. Satin soft as well, as he had reason to know. Her shining hair was the dark golden color of fine honey. Its current style, however, suited her no better than the dress did. He wondered what it would look like trailing loose about her shoulders, especially when her face was pleasantly flushed, as it was now.
    A pretty daydream.
    That daydream, however, featured Adele wearing something quite different. Something in red, perhaps. Then, as he contemplated the depths of those storm blue eyes, the fantasy blurred and changed, until Adele was her wearing nothing at all, and James realized he’d entirely forgotten what they were saying. Not only that, but his silk breeches had grown dangerously tight.
    â€œI must apologize for the lack of proper introduction.” He paused and made sure he held her gaze as he turned them again. “But perhaps we have met before?”
    Her blush deepened, but the light of pleasure glowed from her deep eyes. Good. She remembered their little encounter with delight, just as he did.
    â€œNo, I don’t believe so,” she murmured. “How could we have? I would remember a . . . bold gentleman such as yourself, I do assure you.”
    â€œAh well. We are meeting now.” He paused. “I don’t think your brother is best pleased.”
    Adele tried to crane her neck, and he turned them both so she could see more easily. She responded quickly to his lead. Really, dancing with her was a pleasure, even though he could tell by the tension in her back and hands that she was nervous. He found himself wondering how it would be to dance, or do other things, with her when she was more relaxed.
    Stop it, Beauclaire. You’ll miss your step and embarrass the both of you.
    â€œOh, that,” she was saying. “That’s nothing to worry about. Marcus looks at everyone like that.”
    â€œI would say that is a relief, but I would be lying.” In fact, the glower the Duke of Windford leveled at him would have blistered paint.
    â€œI thought . . . that is, I’d heard, you and Marcus were friends.”
    Have you been asking about me,
ma belle
? How gratifying.
“We have had some dealings in the past. It was all amiable enough, but it left him, I think, a little too knowledgeable about myself to be very glad I am dancing with his sister.”
    â€œOh,” she said softly, but her step did not falter, and neither did her gaze. “Well. Still. You mustn’t let Marcus’s looks worry you. One gets used to them. That is . . . I didn’t mean . . . Oh dear.”
    James squeezed her hand gently. “Do not distress yourself,
ma chère
. I find I would like the chance to get used to your brother’s