“It is ten o’clock. The ball has just begun.”

“The ball is half over, and we have an arrangement.”

“We did not have an arrangement that involves my carrying messages to Chase.” She heard the peevishness in the words. Did not particularly care. “I am not ready to leave. I am dancing.”

“You’ve danced with six men, nine if you count Cross, Bourne, and the Marquess of Ralston.”

She smiled. “You’ve been watching.”

“Of course I’ve been watching.” The information was pleasing indeed. As was that “of course.” “And I allowed you a quarter of an hour here with Langley.”

“You allowed me?”

“I did. And nine dances is plenty for one evening.”

“It’s only six. Married men don’t count.”

“They count for me.”

She did move closer then, unable to resist the words, dark and filled with irritation. “Be careful, sir, or I shall think you’re jealous.”

His eyes were liquid, the color of mahogany. And tremendously compelling. “Have you forgotten? Me, and no one else?”

“No, the arrangement was you, and not Chase.”

Mahogany turned black. “There’s a new arrangement, then.” This Duncan West was like none she’d ever seen – utterly focused, filled with power and might. And desire.

A desire that would be mutual if she allowed it to be. If he weren’t so unnerving.

“You could have danced with me,” she said softly, stepping closer.

He met her halfway, closing the distance between them and whispering, “No, I couldn’t have.”

“Good God.”

Georgiana spun around at the words to find Temple standing a few feet away, his wife on his arm.

“Christ, Temple, you have terrible timing,” Duncan grumbled before bowing. “Your Grace.”

Mara, Duchess of Lamont, smiled, and Georgiana did not like the knowledge in the smile, as though she knew everything that had transpired between the others on the balcony. And she likely did. “Mr. West. Lady Georgiana.”

“The two of you need a chaperone,” Temple said.

“We’re in full view of half of London,” Georgiana snapped.

“You’re on a dark balcony in full view of half of London,” Temple replied, coming closer. “That’s why you need a chaperone. Look at him.”

She did as she was told. Not that it was a challenge. “He’s very handsome.”

West’s brows rose.

“I…” Temple paused and gave her a strange look. “All right. Well. I’m not talking about that bit – though I assume a chaperone wouldn’t care much for such a statement – I’m talking about the fact that he looks as though he’s planning to steal you away.”

“You look that way as well,” she pointed out.

“Yes. But that’s because I am planning to steal my wife away. As we are married, we are allowed to do the things that people do on dark balconies.”

“William,” the duchess said. “You’ll embarrass them. And me.”

He looked to his wife. “I shall make it up to you.” The words were filled with dark promise, and Georgiana rolled her eyes before he continued, “Tell me he doesn’t look as though he’s planning to steal her away.”

Mara considered them, and Georgiana resisted the urge to smooth her skirts. “He does, rather.”

“As it turns out,” Georgiana said, “he is planning that very thing.”

“Good Lord,” Temple said.

“It wasn’t going to be quite so overt,” Duncan said.

“Well, she’s not going anywhere now,” Temple replied. He turned to her and cocked his head in the direction of the dancing. “Let’s go.”

She blinked. “Let’s go where?”

“I’m going to dance with you.”

“I don’t wish to dance with you.” She heard the petulance in her tone and couldn’t summon the energy to change it. She waved a hand at the duke and duchess. “Besides, don’t you have other plans?”

“I did, and we shall discuss later how irritated I am that you are forcing me to change them.”

“I don’t need you to dance with me,” she whispered. “West can dance with me.”

“I’m not sure that will solve the issue of him looking like he’d like to steal you away,” Mara said, altogether too thoughtfully.

Duncan’s reply was more forthright. “No.”

“No?” she asked, taken aback by his quick refusal.

“I’m not titled,” he said. “You can’t be seen dancing with me.”

How silly. “But you’re the man who is restoring my reputation.”

“Among others,” Temple interjected.

“You mean others like you?”

“Your Grace,” Temple and Duncan prompted in unison.

Georgiana shook her head, confused. “You needn’t call me that; I am not a duchess.”

The trio looked at her as though she were mad. And that’s when they all realized what was happening.

“Christ,” said Duncan.

“Are you drunk?” asked Temple.

She put her fingers to her lips. “It’s possible.”

The men looked at each other, then back to her. “How in hell are you drunk?”

“I imagine it happened when I consumed too much alcohol,” she said smartly.

Mara snickered.