Gervase smiled into Miss Juliard’s youthful countenance-and wondered how on earth any sane person could imagine, as Mrs. Juliard clearly hoped, that his interest might fix on such a young, naïve lady.

But he liked the Juliards, so he made the appropriate noises; he was preparing to part from them, to utter a polite lie, when he suddenly knew-simply knew-that Madeline had arrived. Lifting his head, he looked across the room-straight at her where she’d paused just inside the main doors.

She looked delicious in apple-green silk, with both her brothers’ gifts on display-and his gifts, too, in her hair, and dangling from her wrist.

Turning back to the Juliards, he smiled; he had no more need for lies. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, there’s someone I must speak with.”

They parted with smiles and nods; Mrs. Juliard hadn’t truly harbored any high hopes.

He had to cross the better part of the ballroom to reach Madeline; within a few feet he was reining in his impatience-he couldn’t actually push through the crowd. It took a good ten minutes to cover the distance without drawing attention to his fell intent…and when he neared her, he discovered someone else-several someone elses-had reached her before him.

Slowing, then halting, he inwardly swore.

She was surrounded by a coterie of Lady Hardesty’s guests. The sight made him pause-to reconnoiter before he rushed in. Courtland was there, by Madeline’s elbow, the cad, along with four other tonnish gentlemen. He wouldn’t have trusted any of them with his sisters.

He certainly didn’t trust them with Madeline but…even from ten feet away he sensed she was holding her own. Her Valkyrie shield was fully deployed. However, the fact that, despite there being five outwardly attractive ladies, friends of Lady Hardesty, in the party, all five gentlemen, including the handsome man on whose arm Lady Hardesty herself leaned, had their predatory gazes firmly fixed on Madeline told Gervase all he needed to know.

Lady Hardesty and her friends were no longer especially desirable prey, at least not to those five gentlemen. That was why all five were looking at Madeline as if she were a lamb. A frolicking, innocent, delectable lamb.

Resuming his stroll forward, he made for her side. He kept his gaze on her face. As he’d hoped, she sensed his presence before the others did, glanced his way, then stepped back, creating space for him by her side.

Space he smoothly filled. “Madeline, my dear.” With a confident smile, he took the hand she offered and bowed, inwardly gloating at the smile she’d turned on him; it still held a vestige of social veneer, but no one with the slightest experience could, on seeing it, doubt that he and she were lovers.

“Gervase.” She, too, used his given name, made it soft and private. “I wondered where you were.”

Straightening, he met her eyes, read in them that she’d reached much the same conclusion he had and was eager to make clear to the five other gentlemen that she had no interest whatever in them.

He squeezed her fingers, then laid her hand on his sleeve, covering it with his-and only then looked at the others, letting his gaze travel the circle of faces to come to rest on Lady Hardesty.

“Lord Crowhurst. How delightful!”

He very nearly blinked. Lady Hardesty had clearly missed his and Madeline’s blatant message.

With a smile that promised lascivious delight, Lady Hardesty offered her hand. “Well met, my lord.”

Reluctantly lifting his hand from Madeline’s, he grasped her ladyship’s fingers, half bowed, and released her. “Lady Hardesty. Ladies.” He nodded, distantly aloof, to the other females.

Smiling, Lady Hardesty introduced him to the two he hadn’t previously met.

One, a Mrs. Hardingale, a patently dashing matron, fixed him with an arch look. “Tell me, my lord-is this truly the most major ball in the area?” She glanced around, then brought her gaze, eyes laughing, back to his face, clearly inviting him to denigrate the company of his neighbors.

He regarded her impassively. “I believe it is one of the more major events, certainly a long-established one.” He paused, then added, “It’s usually a very pleasant affair.”

Madeline lightly gripped Gervase’s arm, whether in support or warning she wasn’t sure, but she needn’t have bothered; Mrs. Hardingale simply looked nonplussed, unsure whether the comment had been a jibe and if so, whether she should take umbrage.

Two of the other ladies tittered-actually tittered. Madeline managed not to stare.

Lady Hardesty moved forward; releasing the arm of the gentleman beside her, she crossed the circle to place a hand on Gervase’s other arm. “My lord.” She looked up into his face, ignoring Madeline entirely. “I’m especially glad to see you. I’ve been wanting to have a word with you.” Her voice was low, sultry; her brows arched lightly. “If I may?”

Say no. Madeline subdued her glare with an effort, held down the unexpected and alarmingly violent reaction that erupted from somewhere within her. Gervase shifted, drawing her if anything closer-a blatant attempt to make Lady Hardesty notice that she was on his arm.

Lady Hardesty did notice, but she merely glanced at Madeline, smiled lightly, then turned back to Gervase-as if Madeline had been an animated potted palm. A horse would have warranted more attention. Madeline’s temper, a force of nature rarely engaged, started to spiral. Upward.

“I was wondering, my lord”-Lady Hardesty edged closer, looking down, hoping to make Gervase lean toward her to hear her words-“whether I could prevail upon you to give me a few minutes of your time…in private?”

Lady Hardesty looked up-combined with her nearness, endeavoring to trap Gervase with her dark eyes.

Madeline could barely believe the woman’s hide. She glanced at Gervase-what she saw eased her temper, allowed her to press it back.

He was looking down his nose at her ladyship-from a very distant, exceedingly superior height. “I fear not. Miss Gascoigne has promised me the first waltz, which I believe will be commencing soon.”

As set-downs went, that was as direct as a gentleman could acceptably be.

But Lady Hardesty merely smiled-at Gervase, then, again with a mild, oblivious air, at Madeline. “I’m sure one of these gentlemen would be only too happy to take your place, my lord.” She brought her fine eyes to bear once again on Gervase’s face. “I greatly fear that my need for your company far exceeds Miss Gascoigne’s.”

No one could willingly be so obtuse, and Lady Hardesty was no fool, not socially. Madeline suddenly understood; for the first time in over a decade, she blushed. Lady Hardesty and her friends-as a quick glance at both the gentlemen and the other ladies confirmed-saw her as too tall, too countrified, too old, too much a spinster left on the shelf to ever have any real chance with Gervase.

They thought he was merely being polite to a neighbor, that his attentions to her were inspired by protective friendship, nothing more…for what more could a gentleman of his ilk feel for a lady like her?

The realization was a slap, one she absorbed, but…her temper roared to full life and snapped its leash.

But she-it-got no chance to act, to react.

Gervase spoke. Coldly, collectedly, his diction so precise each quiet word cut like a saber. “I fear I failed to make myself clear. Miss Gascoigne promised me the first waltz because I not just asked, but made a heartfelt plea for the honor.” Locked on Lady Hardesty’s face, his eyes had turned agate-hard, his gaze chilly. “And there is nothing-I repeat, nothing -on this earth that would persuade me to forgo that pleasure.”

He paused; despite the babel surrounding them, not a single sound seemed to penetrate the now-silent circle. No one shifted; Madeline suspected most were holding their breath.

“I trust,” Gervase finally said when the silence had grown taut, “that you now understand?”

Lady Hardesty had paled; frozen beside him, a tiger with teeth she’d presumed to tease, she didn’t know what to say.

Gervase shifted, removing his arm from under her hand, then he curtly nodded-a clear dismissal-and turned to Madeline. “Come, my dear.” As if he’d snapped his fingers, the opening bars of the first waltz floated over the heads. He smiled, intently. “I believe we have a waltz to enjoy.”

She returned his smile with perfect grace, nodded regally to the now-silent ladies and gentlemen, then allowed him to lead her away.

He took her straight to the dance floor, and swept her into the dance.

For long minutes, she let herself flow with the music, let the sweeping revolutions soothe her, let her temper-satisfied and all but purring-settle once more.

They were processing back up the long room when she sighed with pleasure, and focused on his face. “Thank you for rescuing me.” She knew that was why he’d joined Lady Hardesty’s circle. She studied his eyes, his still-stony expression. “I’m only sorry doing so forced you to make such an extravagant comment.”

He blinked; his features eased. Openly puzzled, he arched a brow at her.

She smiled. “About your heartfelt plea for the honor of waltzing with me, and of nothing on earth being enough to make you forgo the pleasure.”

He frowned at her. After a moment during which he searched her eyes, he asked, “What in all that did you find ‘extravagant’?”

She sent him a wry but smiling look. “You know perfectly well that you’re the only partner I’ll willingly waltz with. If you ask me to waltz, I’m not going to refuse-no ‘heartfelt plea’ likely ever to be required.”

“Good.” He drew her closer, spinning them effortlessly through a tight turn. “However,” he continued, as they fell into the long revolutions once more, “should you ever refuse, I would indeed plead, even go down on my knees, to secure your hand for a waltz.” He met her eyes. “I like waltzing with you.” After a moment, he added, “I appreciate waltzing with you. I adore waltzing with you-and not even that is stating it too highly.”