mma breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she closed the bedroom door behind her. Although she'd only met the duke of Ashbourne that day, she knew instinctively that he was a man of his word and would not cause an irreparable scandal by

following her directly back to the ballroom. He would keep his promise and wait at least fifteen minutes before reappearing.

Emma moved silently through the dark hallways of her cousins' home until she emerged at the top of the stairs that led to the brightly lit ballroom. She stopped for a moment to survey the scene. Aunt Caroline had surely outdone herself this time. It was really quite breathtaking. Exotic, brightly colored flowers adorned the refreshment tables that lined the walls of the room. Hundreds of serene off-white candles had also been placed around the perimeter of the ballroom. But the most spectacular

part were the guests. Dashing men and elegant women swept effortlessly across the dance floor, whirling to the tunes provided

by the orchestra Caroline had hired for the evening. The ladies were especially brilliant, their jewels glittering shamelessly in the candlelight as their bright silks and satins floated through the air. The dancing couples seemed to move in unison, as if choreographed, turning the ballroom into a kaleidoscope of light and color.

As Emma smiled at the gorgeous spectacle, she didn't realize she was something of a sight herself. By pausing at the top

of the stairs, she had unwittingly given the entire ballroom a chance to stop and stare at her. And stare they did.

* * *

"I'm definitely in love," declared John Millwood, one of Ned's university friends with whom Emma had danced earlier in the evening.

Ned laughed heartily. His blue eyes were just as bright as his sister's although his hair was a dark mahogany brown.

"Forget it, John. You could never keep up with her. Besides, I thought you were in love with my sister."

"Right, well, still am, I suppose. You've simply got too many beautiful women under your roof. It just isn't fair."

Ned grimaced. "You'd be changing your tune if you had to deal with all the suitors who are continually banging down

the door. I thought it was bad last year when it was just Belle, but it'll be hell now that Emma's here, too."

Just then, two more of their friends came rushing over. "Ned, you simply must introduce us to your cousin," exclaimed

the young Lord Linfield. His companion, Nigel Eversley, nodded in agreement.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to petition my mother for that. I've given up trying to keep track of all the people who want introductions to Emma."

"She's stunning, simply stunning," John sighed.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Ned groaned.

"'Course we'd all be content if you'd simply agree to put in a few good words about us with your sister," Nigel said eagerly.

"I did that last year," Ned retorted. "It didn't do you any good, if you recall."

"You might try putting in a few excellent words, then," George Linfield suggested.

"You three are simply going to have to accept that the last thing my female relatives are going to do is listen to me," Ned said dryly. "Nothing I say ever sways them one way or another."

"A biddable female, that's what I need," George muttered.

"Don't look for one in my family," Ned chuckled.

"What happened to biddable females? Why can't I find one?" George continued to lament his plight.

"They're all ugly and boring," John decided. "Oh God, here she comes!"

Sure enough, Emma had spotted her cousin and was heading straight toward the group of men. "Hello, Ned," she said softly, a vision in violet satin. "Good evening, John. I so enjoyed our dance earlier." John beamed at her friendly words. Emma then

turned to the two men she had not met and smiled at them expectantly, waiting for Ned to introduce them.

Ned quickly did the honors. "Emma, this is Lord George Linfield and Mr. Nigel Eversley. We're all up at Oxford together.

George, Nigel, my cousin Miss Emma Dunster."

The two men crashed into each other trying to take her hand. Emma looked vaguely embarrassed and heartily amused.

"Excuse me, Linfield," Nigel said in a deep voice, trying to appear older than his twenty-one years. "I believe I was trying

to kiss Miss Dunster's hand."

"Excuse me, Eversley, I thought I was taking her hand."

"You must be mistaken."

"Really? I rather think you are mistaken."

"You are highly mistaken if you think I'm mistaken."

"Goodness!" Emma exclaimed. "I do believe Aunt Caroline is calling me. It was so lovely meeting you both." With that,

she hastily scurried away, trying to find her aunt.

"Oh, brilliant, Linfield, absolutely brilliant," Nigel said sarcastically. "Now you've gone and done it."

"I've gone and done it. If you hadn't been falling all over yourself grabbing at her hand..."

"If you will excuse me," Ned put in silkily, "I believe my mother is calling me as well." He quickly slipped away and followed Emma, hoping she knew where to find Lady Caroline.

* * *

Across the ballroom, Belle was dancing with William Dunford. The two had met the previous year and, after a few weeks

of courting during which they realized they were not at all suited to one another romantically, they had quickly become close friends. "I hope your cousin is poor," he laughed, watching Linfield and Eversley fall all over themselves trying to meet Emma.

"Really?" Belle asked, amused. "Why?"

"Your family is going to be beleaguered as it is. If she's got money, every fortune-hunter in England is going to be pounding

on your door."

Belle laughed. "Don't tell me you're planning on trying for her."

"Good God, no," Dunford exclaimed with a smile, his brown eyes warming as he remembered Alex's obsession with Emma.

"Not that she isn't exceptionally beautiful, of course."

"She has a mind, too," Belle said pointedly.

"Imagine that!" Dunford teased. "Really, Belle, I never doubted for one moment that she was every bit as quick-witted as

you are. I just imagine that she'll have her hands full without me."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing at all, Belle," he said absently, scanning the ballroom for Alex. "Nothing at all. By the way, did I mention you

look ravishing in blue?"

Belle smiled wryly. "How unfortunate, then, that I'm wearing green."

Emma, meanwhile, was still trying to find Lady Caroline when Ned caught up with her. "I don't suppose you know where

Mother is," Ned said, picking up two glasses of lemonade from a nearby table.

"Not a clue," Emma responded. "But thank you for the lemonade. I'm parched."

"I imagine if we stand here long enough, she'll find us. I think she still has about two hundred people she wants you to meet."

Emma laughed. "No doubt."

"I must apologize about the scene back there, Emma. I didn't think they'd act that absurdly."

"Didn't think who'd act that absurdly?" Belle suddenly appeared at Ned's right, Dunford at her heels.

"I'm afraid I introduced Emma to George Linfield and Nigel Eversley."

"Oh, Ned, you didn't! Poor Emma will be beleaguered by them for months."

"Don't worry, Emma," Ned said reassuringly. "They're really good chaps once you get to know them. They just lose their

heads around a beautiful woman."

Emma laughed throatily. "Really, Ned, I think you have just given me a compliment. That may be the first one."

"Nonsense. If you recall, I couldn't stop praising your right hook after you broke that pickpocket's nose in Boston."

Dunford decided he didn't have to worry about Emma having any trouble with Alex. But he did start to wonder if his friend

was going to be able to manage the redheaded American. He turned to Ned and said, "Blydon, I don't believe you've

introduced me to your cousin."

"Oh, so sorry, Dunford. Been introducing her all night. It's hard to keep track."

"Emma, this is William Dunford," Belle interjected. "He's a great friend of mine. Dunford, I'm sure you realize that this is

my cousin, Miss Emma Dunster."

"I certainly do." Dunford took Emma's hand and graciously lifted it to his lips. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" Emma asked, intrigued.

"But I hardly told you anything," Belle protested. Dunford smiled enigmatically and was saved from further questioning by

Lady Caroline's voice.

"Emma, darling," Caroline called. "I want you to meet Lady Summerton." The foursome turned to see Caroline heading toward them with a plump lady wearing a purple gown with a matching turban. Emma thought she looked like a pot of grape jam.

"Don't look now," Belle whispered, "but here comes one of those ninnyheads we warned you about, Emma."

"I'm so happy to meet you," gushed Lady Summerton. "You've made quite an entrance into society. There hasn't been anything like it since Belle made her debut last year." The pudgy woman took a deep breath, turned to Emma's aunt, and continued,

"And Caroline, you must be so proud. This is surely the party of the year. Why, the duke of Ashbourne even made an

appearance. I don't think he's been to a ball such as this in over a year. You must simply be thrilled!"

"Yes, yes," Caroline murmured. "I heard he stopped by, but I haven't seen him."

"I doubt he's left yet," Dunford said with a wicked grin. "In fact, I'm certain he plans to stay the entire evening."

"Planning to torture me, no doubt," Emma muttered under her breath.

"Did you say something, my dear?" Caroline inquired.

"No, no, I was just clearing my throat," Emma said hastily, clearing her throat.

"Would you like another glass of lemonade for that?" Dunford's voice was solicitous, but from his expression, Emma

suspected he'd heard what she said.

"No, thank you," Emma said, holding up the glass in her hand, "I still have some left." She smiled at Dunford and took

a healthy gulp.

''Well," Lady Summerton declared as if no one had spoken since her last monologue. "I'm sure even Ashbourne wouldn't

dare leave without greeting his hostess, Caroline. I'm positive he'll be here soon. Absolutely positive."

"So am I," Dunford agreed, watching Emma with a twinkle in his eye. She smiled weakly, acutely uncomfortable.

"Of course," Lady Summerton continued, "I'm not sure if you should allow him near your niece, Caroline." She turned to

Emma without pausing for breath. "He has a dreadful reputation. If you value yours, you'll stay away from him."

"I'll certainly try," Emma put in brightly.

"Do you know what I heard?" Lady Summerton asked breathily, to no one in particular.

"I'm sure I can't imagine," Ned replied.

"I heard," Lady Summerton paused for emphasis and leaned forward conspiratorially, "that Ashbourne, er, shall we say,

'said good-bye' to his opera singer and has finally decided to look among respectable ladies. I think he's looking for a wife."

Emma choked on her lemonade.

"Are you all right, dear?" Caroline asked. "Is your headache still bothering you?"

"No, it certainly isn't my head that's bothering me."

Lady Summerton plodded on. "Clarissa Trent is after him. Her mother told me. And do you know what?"

Only Caroline was attentive—and polite— enough to murmur, "What?"

"I think she has a chance of getting him."

"I imagine she'll be disappointed," Dunford predicted.

"Well, she did say she was holding out for a duke," Belle said caustically.

"I would rather not discuss her," Ned declared.

"Emma, are you feeling well?" asked Caroline. "You look a trifle pale."

An awkward silence fell over the small group. Finally, Lady Summerton, never one to enjoy conversational lulls, commented,

"Er, I'm sure he'll show up soon, Caroline. So stop your worrying."

Even Caroline, impeccably mannered as she was, could not fail to murmur softly, "I wasn't aware that I was worrying."

"What was that, dear?" Lady Summerton inquired.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Caroline shot Emma a knowing glance. "I was just clearing my throat."

Emma smiled conspiratorially. "Perhaps we should get you some lemonade, dear aunt."

"I really don't think that will be necessary, dear niece."

"Well, I'm sure he'll show up soon," Lady Summerton declared.

Emma estimated that she'd been back in the ballroom for at least fifteen minutes and decided miserably that Lady Summerton

was probably right. She wondered how on earth she would be able to go through the motions of polite conversation with the

man who had just nearly ravished her in her bedroom. Cowardice finally emerged as the solution and she smiled weakly. "Actually, Aunt Caroline, I am feeling a little tired. Perhaps a little fresh air would help."

Dunford jumped in immediately, eager to provoke Alex's jealousy by walking with Emma in the gardens. "If you would like

to go to the garden, it would be my pleasure to escort you, Miss Dunster."

"It would be very difficult for me to meet the guest of honor if you insist upon monopolizing her time," boomed a deep voice.

It was all Emma could do to keep from cringing as everyone turned to face Alex.

"Why, your grace," gushed Lady Summerton, "we were just talking about you."

"Were you?" Alex answered laconically, fixing his deadly stare upon the ridiculous woman.

"Er, yes, we were," Lady Summerton stammered.

Emma was stunned by the sheer presence of the man. His tall, broad frame somehow seemed to dominate the entire

ballroom. Indeed, a hush had swept across the crowd as everyone craned their necks to watch the well-known duke. He was, Emma had to admit, definitely worth watching. He exuded raw power that seemed barely contained by his elegant black and

white evening clothes. His unruly black hair had refused to conform to any sense of a hairstyle, and one lock fell characteristically over his forehead. But it was definitely his piercing green eyes that made him appear so dangerous. And just then those green eyes were fixed right on Emma. "Miss Dunster, I presume," he said silkily, taking her hand.

"H-How do you do?" Emma managed to say. A firebolt charged through her as he lifted her hand to his mouth. And although Emma had only spent one night out in London society, she knew that his lips had remained overlong on the pale skin of her wrist.

"I do very well, indeed, now that I've met you."

Lady Summerton gasped. Caroline's eyebrows shot up in a rather shocked expression. Dunford chuckled. Ned and Belle

openly stared. Emma wondered if she'd blushed to a deep crimson or merely a light rose. "You're very kind," she finally said.

"Well, Ashbourne, that may be the first time I've ever heard you referred to as kind," Dunford said dryly.

"It's so kind—er, gracious—of you to come tonight, your grace," Caroline said.

"Indeed," Belle added, not really having anything to say but feeling nonetheless that something was necessary.

"I trust your sister is well?" Caroline inquired. "We were so upset when she sent her regrets."

"Sophie is very well, thank you. We had a bit of a scare this afternoon, but everything is all right now."

"A scare?" Lady Summerton's eyes grew round with interest. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Her son Charlie was almost run over by a hack. He would have been killed if a young maid hadn't run into the street

and pushed him out of the way."

Emma could feel Belle's eyes boring into her. She glanced upward, assiduously avoiding her cousin's gaze.

"Thank goodness he wasn't hurt," Caroline said with obvious feeling. "I trust the maid is all right?"

"Oh, yes," Alex replied with a grin. "She's splendid."

Emma decided that the ceiling was, indeed, highly interesting.

"Is that a waltz I hear?" Alex asked innocently. "Lady Caroline, may I have your permission to dance with your niece?"

Emma cut in before Caroline could reply. "I think I've promised this dance to someone else." She was certain she hadn't

promised the dance to anyone, but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. She looked desperately

at Ned for assistance. Her cousin certainly had no desire to antagonize the powerful duke, and he quickly discovered the

wonders of the ceiling that had so entranced Emma moments earlier.

Alex fixed his green stare upon her. "Nonsense," he said simply. He turned back to Caroline. "Lady Caroline?"

Caroline nodded her assent, and Alex swept Emma into his arms. When they reached the center of the dance floor,

he smiled warmly down at her and said, "You are almost as beautiful in the ballroom as you are in the bedroom."

She blushed hotly. "Why must you say such things? Are you determined to ruin my reputation on my first night out?"

Alex raised his eyebrows at her distress. "I don't mean to boast, but I rather think that as long as I don't drag you out of the

room and ravish you in the garden, I'm only enhancing your reputation. I don't go to these things often," he explained.

"People are going to want to know why I'm so taken with you."

Emma had to concede his point. "Nevertheless, you don't have to make such a show of embarrassing me."

"I'm sorry," he said simply. Emma glanced up sharply at his grave tone and was stunned by the stark honesty she found

in his eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I accept your apology." She stared into his eyes for a few moments longer and then,

uncomfortable under the intimate caress of his gaze, quickly shifted her head and focused on his cravat.

"You might want to smile at me," Alex said. "Or, if you can't manage that, at least look up at me. Everyone is watching us."

Emma heeded his words and lifted her face. "Much better. It's painful, you know, having you in my arms and not being able

to look into your eyes."

Emma didn't know what to say.

After a few moments, Alex broke the silence. "You can call me Alex, if you like."

Emma regained a little of her spirit. "'Your grace' will do just fine, I'm sure."

"But I would prefer you to use my given name."

"I would really prefer not to."

Alex was glad Emma had a bit of her temper back. She had seemed so forlorn when they began their waltz.

"You'll seem awfully silly 'your graceing' me when I'll be calling you Emma."

"I haven't given you permission to use my first name," Emma reminded him.

"Really, Emma, I hardly think permission is necessary after what we shared less than an hour ago."

"Must you remind me of that? I would rather forget it."

"Really? I think you're lying to yourself."

"You presume too much, your grace," Emma said with quiet dignity. "You don't know me at all."

"I'd like to." Alex's grin was positively roguish. Emma marveled at how a simple smile could completely transform Alex's

face. Just moments before, he had appeared hard and uncompromising, nearly sending Lady Summerton cowering across the room with a single glare. Now, his usual cynicism absent, he was almost boyish, his eyes bathing her in a warm green glow.

Emma felt all her mental capabilities slipping away as he pulled her closer. "I think you're deliberately trying to overwhelm me."

"Am I succeeding?"

Emma stared up at him for several moments before she gravely answered, "Yes."

Alex's arms tightened around her petite body. "Christ, I can't believe you said that to me here," he said, his voice suddenly

husky. "You're too damned honest for your own good."

Emma lowered her eyes, unable to understand what had moved her to confess her feelings so starkly. "You think I'm too

honest?" she said softly. "Well, I'm not finished yet. We met in a most unconventional manner, which is probably why we

feel able to speak to one another so bluntly. I think you're a nice man, but a hard man, and I think you could hurt me without

even intending to. I'm only in London for a few short months, and I'd like my stay with my relatives to be as happy as possible.

So I am asking you please to stay away from me."

"I don't think I can."

"Please."

Alex was amazed at how a single soft word from Emma's lips could make him feel like such a cad. Nonetheless, he felt

that after her soul-bearing speech, she deserved nothing less than complete honesty from him in return. "I don't think you understand how much I want you."

Emma immediately went still. 'The waltz is over, your grace."

"So it is."

She extricated herself from his arms. "Good-bye, your grace."

"Until tomorrow, Emma."

"I don't think so." With that, she slipped away from him, deftly darting through the crowds until she reached her aunt.

Alex was still as he watched her move through the ballroom, her bright hair gleaming under the flickering candlelight. Her

stark honesty had both unnerved him and intensified his desire for her. He didn't quite understand what he felt for her, and

this lack of control over his emotions left him completely irritated with himself. With a quick step, he turned decisively away

from the young fops and eager mamas who seemed intent on engaging him in conversation. Thankfully, he quickly located Dunford, who was standing at the edge of the ballroom watching him. "Let's get out of here," he said grimly to his friend.

Damn it, she'd simply have to accept that he just couldn't leave her alone.