“Is that normal?” he asked after a moment. “The rudeness?”

“It’s never been quite so obvious,” she said. “But Lady Mary might have a slightly more understandable reason for it.”

He nodded, then asked, “Did she deserve it?”

“Deserve what?”

“Whatever you did to make her angry.”

“She did, rather,” Georgiana said.

She deserved it more than you would.

She left the last unsaid.

“It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Langley went on. “The playacting?”

She looked to him, registered the understanding in his gaze. He acted, as well. Every moment. She smiled. “It is, rather.”

He leaned back against the balustrade and indicated the group of women at the far end of the balcony, a collection of them, now whispering. “They are discussing us.”

She looked over to them. “No doubt they are wondering what I’ve done to win you out here into such a clandestine moment.”

He leaned in. “And wondering if they might witness something scandalous.”

“Poor girls,” she said. “They won’t.”

“Poor girls?” he feigned affront. “Poor me!”

She laughed at the words, even as she knew he didn’t mean them, drawing more overt glances from the young women. Perhaps it would not be so bad to marry Langley. Perhaps he would make a good companion. Charming and entertaining. Kind. Clever.

But lacking in any attraction.

Lacking in any possibility of attraction.

Which was what had made him so perfect. Indeed, attraction had only ever been the source of her trouble.

She was best without it, and the events of the last week proved that. Without it – without the way Duncan West made her feel – she would not be so topsy-turvy. He would not have such unnerving power over her.

She should not be thinking of West, dammit. On what was to come that evening. On the promises he’d made, dark and sinful and wicked. On the promises she’d made, to give in. And why not give in? Now, once. Why not allow herself the pleasure of him? The experience with him? And why not then retreat, quietly, to a life as Viscountess Langley?

She had to be asked to be Viscountess Langley, first.

And that was not going to happen tonight.

Another girl stepped onto the balcony, one whom Georgiana recognized. It was Sophie, the daughter of the Earl of Wight, her champion from the other night.

She was alone, clearly exiled by her friends, no doubt for her defense of Georgiana. And the poor thing looked lost.

Georgiana turned to Langley, wanting to end this moment. Wanting to release him from her web. “You should dance with her,” she said. “She’s sweet. She could use the support.”

He raised a brow. “From an impoverished viscount?”

“From a handsome, kind gentleman.” It was an apology, but he did not know it. An apology for the way she used him. For the way she was willing to use him. She nodded in Sophie’s direction. “Dance with her. I shall be fine here. It’s nice to have the fresh air.”

He cut her a look, his first acknowledgment of her inebriated state. “I imagine it is.”

She shook her head. “I am sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. Lord knows I’ve needed that particular brand of courage once or twice with the ton myself.” He bowed, reaching for her hand and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. “As my lady wishes.”

He left her then, moving to Sophie, who was first shocked and then obviously flattered by his favor. Georgiana watched them return to the ballroom and take immediately to the dance. They were well matched, the handsome viscount and the nervous wallflower.

It was a pity that Langley could not give Sophie that for which she no doubt wished.

Georgiana turned away from the couple and took another deep breath, looking to the darkness, searching for solid ground.

“You won’t find me out there.”

The words sent a thrill through her, and she tried to hide it, which was more difficult than she would have imagined. She turned to find Duncan a few feet away.

She wished he was closer.

No. She didn’t.

“As it happens, sir, I was not looking for you.”

He met her gaze. “No?”

He was exasperating. “No. And as you came to me, one might believe that it was you searching for me.”

“Perhaps it was.”

It took all of her energy to hide the satisfaction she felt. “We must stop meeting on balconies.”

“I came out to tell you that it is time to leave,” he said. It seemed apt that the statement came from the darkness, as it brought a deep sense of sin with it, pooling inside her in a pit of nerves and anticipation. And not a small amount of fear.

“Farewell,” she said, willing her fear away. Wishing for more alcohol.

“I’m for the club,” he said, moving just enough for her to see his face in the candlelight that spilled from the ballroom. “I’ve a message for Chase.” He was all seriousness. She stilled, disappointment rocketing through her. She thought he’d come for her, but he hadn’t. He’d come for Chase.

It occurred, vaguely, that they were one and the same, but she could not think too much on that.

“Chase is not there,” she snapped before she’d thought about it.

His brows snapped together. “How do you know that?”

She hesitated, then said, “I don’t.”

He watched her for a long moment. “You do, but now is not the time to discuss how. It is time for us to leave.”