“Miss Ram,” the high male voice intruded on her fantasy, and she jumped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Granville. “I was daydreaming.”

“Dare I hope that I took part in your dream?” His teasing smile wasn’t as hopeful as his words.

“Oh, you,” she said, smiling tightly and thwapping him on the arm with her fan. She should have smacked him harder. “I’m pretty sure we both know better than that.”

“Would you take a turn with me about the room?” He held out his elbow to her. She gave a desperate glance to her conversation-mates, but there was clearly no help there. The two young gentlemen appeared completely in awe of the duke, and the ladies were all shooting daggers at Leah.

Just her luck.

“Yes,” she said, trying to make it enthusiastic. She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and the two of them moved toward the edge of the crowded ballroom.

“Quite a crush, is it not?”

“It is,” she agreed, opening her fan. The slight stirring of air across her throat helped, but it wasn’t enough. “It’s a very nice ball.”

“I had hoped to dance with you earlier, but I was detained.”

“Oh?” She scanned the crowd for Lady Chesterfield. A chaperone to run interference would make the conversation much easier.

“Yes,” he said, patting her fingers gently. “As a member of the Fancy, I attend many of the tournaments. There have been some exciting events of late, and our next bout promises to surpass them. Lord Charleston requested my assistance with a matter related to it, or I should have been here in time to claim my waltz.” He nodded to an acquaintance as they passed.

“Fancy?” she repeated, tilting her head toward him. The name was completely unfamiliar, and she had to admit talking about anything other than waltzing was a great idea right then.

“The Fancy. Ah, I forget that you have lived abroad for so long.” He smiled down at her like she was an ignorant child, which she guessed she was, to him. “Boxing tournaments, Miss Ram. But they are not a tale for such a proper young lady as yourself.”

“Oh, Miss Ram.” A young man with a rose-colored waistcoat came up to her with a smile. “I do beg your pardon, but I believe it is time for our dance.”

“Of course, Mr. Lowell.” She turned to the duke. “Will you excuse me, Lord Granville?”

“Quite reluctantly,” he said, bowing over her hand. “Perhaps afterward, I may again claim your attention? There is a matter that I wish to discuss with you.”

Crap, crap, and triple crap. She took a deep breath and put on her most polite act. “Yes, to be sure.”

As Mr. Lowell led her onto the dance floor, she worried the inside of her cheek. Her brain whirred like a wind-up robot toy. The duke and boxing matches. Avery’s bruises and muscles that were much too nice for a valet to have…Could Granville have been forcing him to fight? That didn’t seem likely. Granville was too nice.

She curtsied to Mr. Lowell as he bowed, and they began the quadrille. Fortunately, she’d been practicing Regency dances since she’d first planned to marry Mr. Darcy, so she only had to pay a minimum of attention to the steps.

Avery fought, and the duke was a member of the Fancy. What was she missing? Weren’t fights like that illegal? But there was something else, and she wished she knew what it was.

“You look quite fine tonight, Miss Ram.” Mr. Lowell nodded as he gripped her hand. They stepped together in a line with another couple, moving to the music.

“Thank you,” she said. Turning, they moved through the formation and took their place at the end of the line.

“If I may, Miss Ram.” He paused as another couple passed them. “I should like to drive out with you in the park if you are amenable.”

The thoughts of Avery and the duke and back alley boxing matches slammed to a halt. Oh, crap.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lowell, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh.” His face fell as they came together again for the last pass of the dance. “My apologies for being so forward.”

“Oh, no.” She stumbled a little through the step. He steadied her. “It’s nothing like that, it’s just…” She trailed off as the music ended. “I wish I knew what to say.”

He shook his head ruefully. “I understand, Miss Ram. I do wish you every happiness.”

He left her on the edge of the dance floor. She stared after him with complete befuddlement.

When she was single, men never looked at her twice. Why was it that once she’d found the man she wanted, they seemed to be lining up in droves?

Sometimes the Fates had a really twisted sense of humor.

“Chased the young pup off, I see.” The duke laughed as he approached her. His silvery waistcoat matched his hair tonight.

“It wasn’t like that. He had, erm, another person to dance with.”

The duke nodded knowingly. “It is quite close in this room. Would you care to walk onto the balcony with me? There is something I would ask.”

“If you’d like, Your Grace,” Leah said, though her eyes searched for any distraction she could plausibly use.

They passed through the crowd, which parted to let them through like Moses and the freaking Red Sea. Leah shook her head inwardly at the deference everyone showed to Granville. She’d been no better than these people only a few weeks ago. She’d only seen the title and hadn’t looked past it to see the man himself.

Not that Granville was bad. Quite the opposite. He was a sweet old man. But he was perfect for Lady Chesterfield, not her. Her heart was too full of someone else.

The night air was fresh with a hint of chill. Leah drew in a deep breath gratefully. It had really been stuffy in there, too many people and too many layers of undergarments. She’d never take her regular old cotton bra and panties for granted again.

“Miss Ram,” the duke said, placing a hand on her arm and turning her to face him, “I had hoped to speak with you about a matter of some delicacy.”

A little knot caught in Leah’s throat. “Of course,” she said. Uh-oh. Had she been reading his signals wrong? She hadn’t thought he was really into her, but he seemed to be nervous. If he proposed to her right now, she’d fall over in shock.

The duke took a deep breath. “Your aunt, Lady Chesterfield.” He stopped, looking out over the darkened lawn. Leah followed his gaze. He wasn’t really looking at anything.

“My aunt?” she prodded.

“Yes. Of course. Your aunt.” He looked down at her, smiling in a nervous but fatherly way. “Has she made mention of me?”

So that’s the way he’s rolling. Relief nearly made Leah sag. “She talks about you all the time.”

His eyes lit up. “She does?”

Leah nodded. “I think she really likes you.”

“I see.”

They fell silent. Leah worried the inside of her cheek, wondering what she should do to help this along.

“You know, Your Grace,” she said, looking down at the toes of her slippers, “I think she’s really interested in you. Why don’t you ask her to the park? Or the theatre?”

He clasped his hands together behind his back. “The dowager duchess is not in favor of my marrying again.”

“Oh. Oh. I see.” The memory of his mother made Leah shudder. The poor man. “But you don’t need her permission, right?”

“No, of course not.” He pursed his lips. “But my mother can make things, well, difficult, to say the least. Since her dowry repaired the family fortunes, I find myself somewhat dependent upon her good nature.”

Leah nodded knowingly. “Well, you could always—”

A shot rang out. The lamppost beside them shattered, raining glass onto the ground beside them.

Twenty-Four

Avery ran after the Chesterfield carriage. Thankfully, with the glut of conveyances leaving at the same time, Leah and her chaperone were forced to move slowly along the lane toward the home in Hanover Square.

He kept his breath even as he followed at a distance.

Staying out of sight had not been easy for the past weeks, but he’d had no choice. After the Swansdown came the Berford. Prachett had demanded Avery lose at both tourneys, promising to harm Leah if he did not comply. Though the lies gnawed at him daily, he did as he was bidden, losing to boxers who he could have readily beaten. The duke had never mentioned anything, but Avery knew that his actions must look suspicious.

Besides, staying near to Leah would only have strengthened the connection that should never have formed at all—that had put her very life in danger tonight and all the nights she’d been in his life.

Then why do you follow her still? his subconscious mocked him. He had no choice. The gunshot tonight had been a warning from Prachett’s men; he knew that. To ensure Avery’s continued assistance, they would do much worse to Leah.

Ignoring the thought, he ducked behind the manor house just beyond Lady Chesterfield’s. He watched from the cover of shrubbery as Lady Chesterfield and Leah descended the carriage and headed into the house.

He sighed with relief, as he did every night when she’d returned home safely. The carriage rumbled to a start, heading for its home in the stables.

Guilt chased him, ever his constant companion. He should not follow her. He should not steal after her in the night like a thief. But it was his fault her life was in danger. He must protect her if he could.

“Sorry, Lady Chesterfield. I forgot my fan in the carriage.”

Leah’s voice floated to him, the sweet sound drawing memories that he longed to relive. He ducked lower as she descended the front steps and followed the path the carriage had taken toward the stables.