With a quizzical glance at the duke, Lord Vincent took her gloved hand and bent to brush a kiss over her knuckles. "Enchanted, Madam."

Elizabeth allowed him to place her hand on his arm and lead her into the crowded theater. He was not much taller than she was and his frame was not as broad as the duke's, although she gauged their age to be similar. His clothing was subdued but immaculate, displaying his slight figure to its fullest advantage.

He bent his head to speak above the shrieking and clamoring of the demi-monde at play. "Have you attended a masked ball before, Mrs. Waterstone?"

Elizabeth shook her head as the duke motioned them up the shallow, ill-lit stairs and into a slightly less noisy private box, which looked down onto the riotous assembly below. "No, my lord, I've not, although I must admit that I intend to enjoy the experience."

Lord Vincent smiled and held out a chair for her with a practiced flourish. Before she could sit down, the duke placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Take off your cloak, Elizabeth. You can scarcely be cold."

"Actually I am quite cold, Your Grace."

He stared at her for a long, dangerous moment. "Take it off."

She stared up into his face. Something was badly wrong and she had no idea how to fix it. She reluctantly released her grip of the front folds of her cloak. Lord Vincent went still and took in a visible breath as her dress was revealed. Even Angelique's mouth dropped open as she slipped into a gilded chair beside Elizabeth's. The duke tightened his fingers on her shoulder and made her turn toward him.

"Ah..." he breathed. "I knew that color would suit you. You look like a succulent grape, just waiting to be...plucked."

She knew then, in a moment of hideous clarity that he meant to get rid of her in the most public setting possible. Had he dressed her like this to show her off to potential buyers, like a flashy mare at Tattersalls? Her chin came up and she refused to give way to the urge to cry. She shook off the duke's restraining hand and turned back to Lord Vincent.

"Are you planning a long visit, my lord?"

The duke swore softly under his breath as she continued to ignore him, her attention all on his cousin.

"No, Mrs. Waterstone. I usually live quietly in Switzerland. I only come to London to consult with my business partners and, of course, to see my cousin, Gervase." He poured her a glass of wine, which she took gratefully, glad to have something to do with her hands. "How do you know my cousin, Mrs. Waterstone? If you will pardon my bluntness, you don't seem to be in his usual style."

Elizabeth managed a smile, aware that the duke was making no effort to disguise his interest in their quiet conversation. He sat on the arm of her chair, his arm draped along the back of it in a possessive manner, giving him an excellent view of her cleavage.

"I work for the duke in two separate capacities, my lord." Elizabeth sipped at her wine. "Firstly, I help with administrative tasks for the government and secondly, the duke is teaching me how to become a courtesan."

Lord Vincent choked slightly and then sat back, a hard glint of amusement in his blue eyes. "Gervase is teaching you how to become a courtesan?" He waited for her nod and then continued, his face full of wry amusement. "Well, I suppose if you must learn a trade it is better to learn from a master."

"Exactly, my lord." Elizabeth put her wine glass down on the table. "The duke has proved to be very competent in his duties, I can assure you, and I'm now ready to move on to bigger and better things."

Elizabeth paused to smile at Sir Vincent and won an answering grin in return and a disgusted snort from Gervase. She leaned forward to pour Lord Vincent some more wine, allowing the puffed sleeve of her bodice to slide down her bare shoulder. She remembered her inadequate bodice and tried not to breathe in too sharply, afraid that she might deposit more than the heavy Madeira wine in his glass. If the duke truly intended to be rid of her, she would make sure that she was the person doing the choosing.

After she finished pouring the wine, the duke cleared his throat and thrust his empty glass under her nose. As she straightened up, he slid her lace sleeve back up her arm with one indolent finger.

She favored him with her most glittering smile. "Do you wish for some more wine, Your Grace? I would be happy to oblige you, except I fear from my lowly position I might spill it on your breeches." She fluttered her eyelashes at him and ran her fingertips down his inner thigh. His hand trapped hers just above his knee and halted her exploration.

"It is quite all right, Mrs. Waterstone. I can help myself."

He leaned over her shoulder and picked up the bottle, allowing its smooth surface to glide over the swell of her breast as he lifted it past her. The sudden coldness made her gasp and her pebbled nipple showed clearly through the thin fabric of her bodice. With an irritated sniff, Elizabeth hunched her shoulder and sat forward until her knees touched Lord Vincent's under the table.

"Would you care to promenade with me, my lord?" she cooed. "I'm so looking forward to the dancing."

The strangulated sounds of a small orchestra tuning up could just be heard above the screeching and chattering of the ball patrons. Lord Vincent rose to his feet and bowed.

"I would be delighted to accompany you, Mrs. Waterstone." He winked at the duke as Elizabeth settled her hand on his arm. "Truth to tell, I haven't enjoyed myself so much in years."

Just as they were about to leave the box, the duke caught Lord Vincent's arm and whispered urgently in French.

"Was the duke warning you to behave yourself?" She squeezed his arm with an encroaching familiarity that would have made her mother weep.

Lord Vincent paused to hold the door open for her and they attempted to penetrate the colorful melee. "No, he was warning me about you. He seems to think the devil has gotten into you this evening and he doesn't like it at all." He studied her carefully blank expression. "He also ordered me to keep you away from anything too salacious."

Suddenly, Elizabeth was propelled into his arms by the breakout of a drunken brawl behind her. He steadied her with two hands at her waist and drew her more firmly against him. They were caught up in the movement of the crowd and drawn inexorably toward the center of the arena.

"I don't think I've ever seen my cousin Gervase become so anxious over a mere female," Lord Vincent said. "His first wife could have stripped naked in public and he wouldn't have reacted at all. You just took off your cloak and he was reduced to behaving like a virgin aunt protecting the virtue of her charge."

Elizabeth sighed and squeezed his sleeve. "I fear you are wrong, my lord. The duke has lost interest in our relationship and is looking to be rid of me."

Lord Vincent reached the edge of what passed as the dance floor and drew her back into his arms. "If that is why he brought you here, my dear, he seems to be going about it in quite the wrong way. If he truly wishes to be rid of you, he would be pleased that we are getting along so nicely."

He bent his head and kissed her ear with obvious enjoyment and whispered, "He is watching our every move with a ferocious scowl on his face, which has stopped even the most determined of the women here from propositioning him."

She could scarcely hear the music but it didn't seem to matter. She stole a glance up at the duke's box as they danced slowly past and confirmed Lord Vincent's observation. Gervase looked so grim he had even managed to scare away Angelique.

They skirted an elderly red-faced man who had his hand down the front of his youthful companion's inadequate bodice. Elizabeth's eyes grew rounder as the tone of the evening slowly disintegrated into something more openly sensual. She sensed Lord Vincent was deliberately using his body to shield her from some of the worst activities that were being perpetuated on the dance floor, but even he couldn't stop her from seeing some unpleasant sights.

It seemed as if the duke was right. She couldn't quite see herself living out her life with the demi-monde. The quiet existence of a governess or a lady's companion suddenly seemed a lot more appealing.

"Mrs. Waterstone, are you feeling all right?"

Lord Vincent's concern interrupted her miserable thoughts and she shivered. He drew her more closely into his arms and led her toward the edge of the dance floor. With murmured apologies he pushed his way through the young bucks who loitered around the doorway, ogling the women, and led her back into the main entrance hall.

"Do you wish to leave, Mrs. Waterstone? I would be happy to escort you."

Lord Vincent disentangled her fan from her wrist, flicked it open and plied her with its cooling draught.

Elizabeth drew in her breath and smiled at him. "Thank you, my lord but I don't wish to leave. I just felt a little faint in the press of people. I'm quite recovered now." With a determined nod, she retrieved her fan and turned toward the staircase.

Lord Vincent caught up with her and regained her hand. "Mrs. Waterstone, may I be frank with you? Gervase indicated to me that I might have my choice of you or Angelique as a companion for the evening." He hesitated. "And, I suspect, for the night to follow. Is Gervase in the habit of hiring out your services?"

For a horrifying second, Elizabeth thought of her stepfather callously forcing her into the arms of the duke. Was Gervase deliberately trying to humiliate her by proposing the same thing?