Few people knew of their former betrothal, or even of their affair. During his courtship, Dare had respected her desire to keep their relationship as private as possible and had gone to great lengths to shield her from gossip. And his grandfather hadn't wanted to advertise Dare's intentions to wed a foreign shopkeeper who was so far beneath him.

Fortunately, her friend was too busy singing Dare's praises to ask any probing questions. "I find him delightful and audaciously charming, even if he is an anglais and thoroughly wicked," the Frenchwoman confessed.

"Oh, yes, he is universally adored," Julienne remarked sardonically. "But I'm certain he practices to perfection that devastating charm. And his exploits are too shocking for my tastes, even if they seem to be met with approval by the rest of society."

"Not approval, precisely, but a rich marquess is permitted to do shocking things other mortals cannot. A man such as Wolverton is considered above scandal and will be forgiven nearly any sin. It is the way of the world, n'est-cepas?"

Julienne nodded in agreement, but not without a trace of bitterness. If one was impoverished and untitled and a woman, she bore the brunt of society's scorn. A wealthy nobleman, on the other hand, could get away with anything short of murder-and even murder at times was not always condemned, if it came in the form of a duel. Dare had the reputation of being a law unto himself, but only the highest sticklers would censure him for it.

"He is still a conniving rogue," Julienne muttered.

"Tiens, but one who makes feminine hearts beat faster. Come, admit it. You cannot possibly overlook a man like him. And you cannot underestimate the irresistible lure of a rake."

No indeed, Julienne reflected with reluctance. What woman could resist Dare's tantalizing smile, the boldness of his glance, his blatant sexual magnetism? He was striking and dangerously exciting, even more so now than when she had first known him. "He cannot be overlooked, certainly," she conceded.

"And I have heard he has other talents to recommend him in addition to his wealth and looks, such as exceptional skill and endurance in bed."

Absurdly, Julienne felt a pang of jealousy. Everyone knew of Dare's celebrated sexual experience. He'd slept with nearly every highborn woman in London, no doubt. And every woman he'd ever slept with probably fell in love with him. Dalliance for him was more than habitual; it was a compulsion.

"I confess," Solange added wistfully, "I should be very glad to be in your slippers, mon amie. If I were ten years younger, I would set my cap at him myself."

"You may have him with my blessing, Solange."

Her friend gave her a curious glance. "What, you do not mean to accept his protection? What would be so wrong with that? An attachment based purely on sensual pleasure… And the financial advantages would be enormous. Wolverton is said to be excessively generous with his mistresses."

Julienne was unsurprised by Solange's practical outlook. The French took a much more liberal view of lovemaking and carnal arrangements than the English did. But she didn't share her friend's sentiments.

"I don't intend to allow him to win our wager by becoming another of his sexual conquests."

Solange shrugged, affecting the common Gallic gesture. "Then I wish you bon chance. You will have your task cut out for you, I don't doubt."

At her change in tone, Julienne glanced over her shoulder to see Dare moving her way. She felt her heart leap. "Promise you will not leave me alone with him," she said quickly.

Her friend frowned. "If you seriously mean that, then naturellement, I will not abandon you, but Wolverton is nothing if not persistent. Perhaps you should hear what he has to say and get it over with."

After a moment, Julienne let out her breath in a sigh. "I suppose you are right." She didn't want Dare to think she was cowering from him, or that their passionate encounter four nights ago had affected her in any but the most superficial way.

Squaring her shoulders, she slipped into her role of popular actress and swept across the room to meet him.

An expectant buzz suddenly flowed around the room when she reached Dare. Julienne knew they were the object of all eyes, so she refrained from snatching her hand away when he bent to kiss it.

His tongue flickered over her fingertips, so fleetingly she might have imagined it-except that awareness flashed in those wicked green eyes, reminding her of the last time he had kissed her fingers.

She quivered at the memory. She could still feel the heavy pressure of his loins against her own, still feel his deep penetration-

Exorcising the provocative image, Julienne shook herself. Dare was deliberately trying to unsettle her composure, as usual.

Withdrawing her hand, she managed an effusive greeting for the benefit of their audience. "Ah, Lord Wolverton… the brightest new talent of Drury Lane. I did not expect to see you here. I was certain you would be practicing your lines for our next encounter."

Dare's eyes sparked with amusement. "I wished to speak with you, Miss Laurent. I have been unable to get close to you with the impenetrable throng of swains around you."

"As it happens, I have been desirous of speaking to you myself." She smiled brightly. "I know much of London waits with bated breath each night to discover what new farce you will enact, but perhaps you might contain your exhibitions until after the scheduled performance. Edmund Kean is rather vexed with you for upstaging him, I fear."

"If it will please you, Miss Laurent, I shall certainly attempt to do better."

"It would please me very much indeed."

He placed a hand over his heart and offered her another gallant bow. "I live to make you happy."

With a glance at her nearly empty wineglass, Dare asked if she would like more sherry. When she nodded distractedly, he steered her toward the refreshment table and then to one side of the crowded room so they could have a measure of privacy.

"At last," Dare murmured.

"Why are you here, my lord?" Julienne asked without ceremony, although she lowered her voice to avoid being overheard by the nearest bystanders and preserved a pleasant expression on her face in keeping with their declared rivalry.

"As I said, I wished to speak to you. I was told I might find you holding court here, and I thought it would be easier to separate you from your gallants."

"Well, you have found me, but I would appreciate it if in future, you would refrain from undressing me with your eyes in public."

A slow grin spread across his lips. "But admiring you is a favorite pastime of mine, ma belle. And you must give me some credit. I've been totally discreet. I haven't told a soul that a few nights ago you were crying with passion in my arms."

Julienne nearly choked on her sherry. Cursing herself as she tried to regain her breath, she sent him an accusing frown. She was forever being caught off guard by his audacious remarks.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right, my love?"

"I would be far better if Solange never had admitted you."

"I noticed her glancing at me. Can I flatter myself that you were discussing me?"

"I don't know that you could call it flattery. She was telling me of some of your more outrageous pranks."

"And warning you to beware the dangers of the infamous scoundrel, Dare North?"

"Actually, no. Solange counts herself among the ranks of your admirers." Julienne gave him a thoughtful look. "Perhaps you might consider her as a candidate in your search for a mistress. She is available at the moment."

"I want no other mistress than you, love."

"I am not your love. You already have more than enough of those."

"Jealous?" he drawled with a genial smile.

"You know, my lord, you suffer from a vastly inflated belief in your own fascination. Have you nothing better to do than bedevil me?"

"To be truthful, I would far rather make love to you. Shall I whisk you away from here? We have yet to find a real bed."

His eyes danced with laughter, and Julienne found herself torn between unwilling amusement and the urge to box his ears.

"Do you never think of anything but carnal gratification?" she asked in exasperation.

"Occasionally. On Wednesday mornings, during my regular fencing match at Angelo's Salle. Sex can prove a grievous distraction then."

She rolled her eyes. "One would think your lust had never been satisfied."

"Only when I was with you," he replied, his tone abruptly turning serious.

She felt a distinct shock at his admission.

"You managed to do what no other woman has ever done before, Jewel," he said as she stared at him.

"And what is that?"

"Bring me to the point of obsession. Despite my every instinct for self-preservation, I cannot stop wanting you."

Julienne arched an eyebrow and took another sip of sherry, managing an attitude of cool disdain.

To her relief, Dare's tone lightened. "Do you know, love, you play the role of ice maiden well, but it has the opposite effect of the one you intend. Your coolness makes a man burn for you all the more. Dares him to try melting you."

When she merely pressed her lips together, refusing to respond, he glanced around the crowded salon. "I confess surprise to find you among this den of Royalists. Most of the emigres here are eager to see Louis XVIII on the throne. Do you share their political leanings?"