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such an action would have been.
    Plunging ahead, he lowered his brows in a look of contrition. “You must forgive me for losing track of time,” he said, his voice sincerely apologetic. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and he locked gazes with her, trying to convince her that he was not setting her up in some sort of trick. “I must have gotten carried away with my conversation with Miss Harmon, but I would never miss our dance, I assure you.”
    For two interminable seconds, she didn’t move or say a word. Then, finally, she slipped her small hand into his. “Yes, course.
Of
course,” she corrected, then blushed and looked away.
    â€œWhy, Miss Wembley,” Miss Harmon said, her voice holding a flat note of disingenuousness. “How
lovely
to see you.” Turning back to Evan, she added, “Do mind your toes, my lord. Sadly, Miss Wembley’s excellent sense of rhythm when she plays her oboe doesn’t always translate to the dance floor.”
    Evan stiffened. Christ, he hadn’t expected her to lash out at the girl. “You must be thinking of someone else. I can assure you, Miss Wembley is an accomplished dancer.” His words were sharp as he sent her a cutting glance. Dismissing her without another word, he turned to his innocent accomplice. “Shall we?”
    She darted a shocked glance from Miss Harmon’s direction before meeting his eyes once more. This time, a hint of a smile curled her lips as she drew a breath and nodded.
    It didn’t matter that the music had not yet even started for the next set, or that his sister had been waylaid by Dering and was nodding as he gestured at her dance card. Offering his partner a subtle wink, Evan grasped her hand more tightly and pulled her toward the very center of the dance floor. After what she’d done for him, he was keen to make this the best dance he could.
    â€œIt’s all right, my lord. You needn’t dance with me to prove a point.”
    He ignored her softly spoken words and tugged her into the waltzing position as the conductor tapped his baton to signal the start. “You’re absolutely right,” he said, holding her firmly in place, one arm at her back and the other at her elbow. “What a relief to be able to dance with you for the pure pleasure of it.”
    Her mouth dropped open half an inch or so as she drew another swift breath. But then the music started, and he swooped into motion, swinging her along across the rapidly filling dance floor. Here he felt comfortable. He was an excellent dancer, and was at ease moving in time to the music. His partners’ skills never much mattered; he had a way of leading them that never failed to lend grace to even the most awkward of dancers.
    But, much to his surprise, Miss Wembley wasn’t awkward. Not in the least. Once the dance was really under way, her eyes lost that anxious gleam and instead reflected true pleasure in their coffee-colored depths. She moved beautifully, in fact, and he couldn’t help but return the genuine smile that graced her lips at last.
    â€œThank you,” he said, leaning a bit closer. He caught a hint of her light scent, a sort of lemony rose fragrance. “You are an absolute gem.”
    â€œAm I?” One raven brow lifted with a hint of playfulness. “And here I thought I was a means to an end.”

Chapter Four
    T here now—that was a completely normal and intelligent response. Sophie relaxed a little more. She could almost feel her wits returning, albeit slower than she’d like. It was pure heaven, dancing in his arms. She was giddy and light-headed and happier than she’d been in days.
    They’d danced only once before, last season during the Harlestons’ annual ball. She hadn’t been able to say a word to him that time, so tonight she was already heaps better off than she’d been back then.
    â€œA brilliant means to an end,” he replied, his pale blue