The duke swept his fleshy lips just above the surface of her lace glove and straightened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How did you find the weather?”

“Er, quite fine.”

“That’s good. I also went riding… and who is this lovely lady?”

Millicent kept the bland smile on her face by sheer force of will.

“The cousin of a cousin,” replied the duke. “Up from the country to experience the delights of London.”

Millicent remembered to curtsy. She managed it without falling over and with only a slight pinch from her corset, rising with a grin of relief.

“I see.” The queen leaned toward her conspiratorially. Millicent bent down, embarrassed by her height for the first time in her life. “The gigot sleeves are quite out, you know.”

Millicent had no idea what the queen meant. She glanced at her puffy sleeves, seeing little difference in the queen’s own, except for a narrowing at the shoulders. She struggled for a response. “Thank you for the advice, Your Majesty.”

The queen smiled beatifically and moved down the line. Before Millicent had the chance to comprehend that the queen had actually thought she was a lady, and had spoken to her as one, a real lady stepped in front of them. “Willie. What a pleasure to see you.”

Millicent smothered her smile at the lady’s use of the duke’s first name. She wondered how many people managed to get away with the impertinence, and took an instant liking to the other woman.

“Lady Yardley,” crowed the duke. “You look as elegant as ever. May I introduce you to Lady Millicent?” He lowered his voice. “She’s just up from the country and this is her first soiree.”

The woman turned and gave Millicent the full force of her smile. Despite the past several months of training to transform her into a true lady, Millicent now could see the real definition of one. Lady Yardley’s auburn hair had been curled at the sides of her head and formed into an elegant knot at the top—with not a single strand loose about her face, unlike Millicent’s own straggling coiffure of inky black hair. The woman’s soft hazel eyes spoke of sophistication, while Millicent’s own amber gaze glittered with the hardness of surviving in a cruel world. The lady’s calm demeanor commanded respect, something Millicent could never hope to imitate.

The duke scowled at Millicent and she remembered to curtsy again. He gave Lady Yardley a look that apologized for the ill grace of a country bumpkin. “Millicent, my dear. May I introduce Lady Yardley, Lady of the Bedchamber to the queen, and daughter to the Earl of Sothby?”

“How do you do?” mumbled Millicent.

The duke’s ploy of passing Millicent off as a country lass appeared to work. Lady Yardley’s eyes softened with sympathy and she held out her arm. “This must all appear very grand to you, I’m sure. Just remember that half is magic and the other half self-delusion.”

Millicent smiled uncertainly and stared in alarm at the lady’s silk-gloved hand. What under-the-earth was she supposed to do with it?

Lady Yardley solved the dilemma by curling her arm under Millicent’s. “Allow me to introduce you, dear girl. Your striking looks are sure to cause a stir and I shall be ever so grateful to be in the thick of it. You don’t mind, do you, Willie?”

“As you wish, Lady Yardley,” mumbled the duke as he gave Millicent a triumphant wink.

Millicent allowed the lady to escort her through the press of people. She feared that the duke might be a tad too confident. Just because he’d managed to pair her with the cream of society didn’t mean the lady had fallen for their ruse. She expected her companion to halt at any moment and denounce her for an imposter.

Instead she found herself introduced to one gentleman after another, until they had a trail of handsome young men following in their wake. Not only did they accept her as a lady but not one of them suspected her were-nature. And fortunately Lady Yardley didn’t introduce her to any baronets, who would surely be able to sniff out her secrets.

Millicent began to relax. To her surprise, she began to enjoy herself.

When the orchestra struck up a tune, Millicent declined one dance invitation after another, even though she gave the rainbow-draped floor more than one wistful glance. She’d just been taught the steps to waltz a few weeks ago and didn’t trust herself not to stomp upon her partner’s feet. Besides, she didn’t want to draw any further attention to herself. Lady Yardley appeared to be doing a bloody good job of that already.

“You are breaking hearts right and left,” laughed the lady. “Don’t you wish to dance, Lady Millicent?”

“Please, call me Millicent,” she replied. She’d always hated the title of lady, since it lacked an estate to make it meaningful. And in general, people had no use for titles in the Underground.

“Then you must call me Claire.”

“Well, Claire, I’m afraid I’m only used to country tunes.”

“Of course, I should have realized. Still, it’s been such fun being the center of attention. But you don’t appear to enjoy that either, do you? As your new friend in London, I’m determined to make your first ball memorable. You’ll have to give me a clue as to how I might manage to accomplish that.”

Millicent felt dismayed by Claire’s declaration of friendship. And then she reminded herself that Lady Yardley’s friendship could only be as real as Millicent’s own charade. She had best concentrate on her task so she could go back to where she belonged.

She glanced around and noticed that two baronets had their gazes locked on her from across the room. A solid chap with a mane of golden hair and a scarred face studied her with a confused frown. The other shape-shifter tossed a thatch of orange-streaked hair off his forehead and stared at her with an angry, almost hungry gaze. They started to move in her direction.

“I should very much like to meet Lady Chatterly,” blurted Millicent. The duke had told her that rumors had the relic in the possession of Lady Chatterly, and although Millicent had hoped to eventually meet her, she feared that she now didn’t have the time for a chance encounter.

Lady Yardley’s elegantly arched brows rose in surprise, and then she giggled. “Oh, my. I should have known. She is rumored to be rather fast, isn’t she? I imagine her reputation would shock… and fascinate you, yes?”

Millicent lowered her lashes. “You won’t tell His Grace about my request, will you? I’m afraid he wouldn’t understand.”

“Why, Willie has—” The woman gave a delicate cough. “No, of course not. I shan’t breathe a word of it to him.”

“Oh, thank you.” Millicent looked over her shoulder. Two pairs of predatory eyes blinked back at her. She suppressed the growl that threatened to shoot up her throat and turned back to her companion. “I’m most eager to meet the, er, famous lady. Shall we?”

Instead of taking offense at Millicent’s tug on her arm, Claire laughed and pulled in the opposite direction. “She’s this way. And don’t think I didn’t catch that little stumble. I think notorious would be a more likely description than famous.” She breezed right past the two baronets, who glared at Millicent and spun to follow them.

The crowd parted easily for Lady Yardley. Not so for the baronets, and they soon lost the men in the press of people. Millicent breathed a sigh of relief. And then she realized the direction Claire had taken.

Millicent ducked her head as they pressed through a group of baronets. She hardly dared to breathe. She had intended to escape only two, and now Lady Yardley had dragged her into a pack of them.

“That’s a charming dress,” said Claire, eyeing Millicent’s brocade gown, chatting gaily away, as if being surrounded by predators didn’t matter to her one whit. “Where in London did you find a seamstress who can craft such skillful rosettes?”

Surely her companion knew that baronets had the strength to rip them to shreds? Millicent could barely focus on a reply, while every hair on the back of her neck stood upright with alarm. She had no idea where the dress had come from. But she’d learned that when in doubt, a half-truth is better than an outright lie. “His Grace provided me with a wardrobe. He said my country clothing would put him to shame.”

“Hmph. Well, he was probably right. Willie has always had impeccable good taste. I think that’s why I admire him so—you certainly aren’t blocking my way, are you, sir?”

A large man with a hawkish nose stood in front of Lady Yardley, his enormous liquid eyes fixed on Millicent. He bowed aside at her companion’s words but not before he shot Millicent a look of raptorial hunger. Ordinarily a bird of prey wouldn’t frighten her. But a shifter’s were-form could be larger than their human form. Did Claire truly not know what type of creature she brushed aside? Or did her status as a lady provide her with such confident security?

Millicent didn’t have such protection.

Her companion finally tugged her into the space between the shape-shifters and another cluster of aristocratic gentlemen. Millicent took a deep breath and refused to turn around and look into the eyes of all the weres that burned holes in the back of her neck. She’d noticed several female baronets among them, but apparently the aristocracy knew of their natures and they also weren’t allowed to penetrate their group.

But the gentlemen parted for Lady Yardley and her companion. The Duke of Ghoulston had been right. Millicent’s anonymity provided her access.

The heightened senses of her were-nature allowed her to overhear the comments of the aristocrats as she passed.

“Here come two more ladies.”

“Hush. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”