“Perhaps so,” Vanessa replied, stiffening her spine.

Damien was right, she reflected when she was alone. She was as guilty as Olivia of hiding from society, and that certainly was not the example she wanted to set for the girl. She might not relish the prospect of being paraded on Damien’s arm in front of his neighbors, yet she shouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated.

And it would do her good to get about more. She had once enjoyed balls. She might even make a few acquaintances tonight, which would be a welcome change after the solitude of Rosewood. Damien had been right about that as well. She could understand now why he felt so restless here.

That evening Vanessa took more care than usual as she dressed for the ball with the help of Olivia’s maids. Despite her diffidence, she began to take heart when she saw the finished result in the cheval glass.

Damien was alone when she joined him in the drawing room before dinner. He looked utterly magnificent in form-fitting black cutaway coat and white satin breeches. His thick raven hair was a startling contrast to the stark white of his linen cravat, while the gold threads in his white brocade waistcoat matched the gold of her gown.

His expression remained enigmatic, however, when his gray gaze swept over the bronzed and gold confection she wore.

At least Olivia’s reaction, when she entered the drawing room just then, was far more approving. She gasped.

“Oh, Vanessa, you are beautiful! I knew the gold would be perfect for you. Is she not beautiful, Damien?”

“Exquisite,” he said softly, the caressing word absurdly making her heart leap.

It was his only display of intimacy. Vanessa was obliged to Olivia for providing the bulk of the conversation at dinner. Damien seemed distant, showing her none of the intimate charm that in the past had so effortlessly delighted and enchanted her.

He told his sister about his recent journey, claiming to have been occupied by mundane business affairs, although he made no mention of the Hellfire League or the gathering he had planned to attend. But then, the sort of debauchery he had doubtless enjoyed at Lord Clune’s was not a fit subject for a lady of Olivia’s tender years.

He spoke little after he handed Vanessa into the carriage. They rode to the ball in silence, which only heightened her riveting awareness of him. It was all she could do to disguise her longing, yet she was determined to maintain the same cold civility he offered her.

It was wiser to distance herself from him, she knew, before she developed an unbearable dependence on him. She had to remember theirs was merely a business relationship, to be kept on a strictly carnal level.

When they arrived at their destination, there was a short wait as carriages lined up before the entrance, and a longer one before they were greeted in a receiving line by Sir Charles and Lady Foxmoor and their daughter Emily. Lady Foxmoor hid her enmity toward Vanessa and fairly gushed over Lord Sinclair, who bore her toadying with good grace.

The ball was evidently a success, for the drawing room was filled with animated guests and the harmonic strains of music. Vanessa felt tension forming in her stomach, but she was determined to take her own advice: the best way to foil the gossipmongers was to hold her head high and ignore their disapproval. She’d had abundant practice, certainly, during her marriage to her scandal-seeking husband.

From the beginning, however, Damien made it apparent that he didn’t intend to leave her to the wolves. He stayed by her side for the initial half-hour, seeing that she was introduced to any number of people. And he insisted on leading her out for the first dance.

“You needn’t put yourself out on my behalf,” Vanessa murmured as he took her hand.

He smiled slowly into her eyes. “It is no hardship, dancing with the loveliest woman at the ball.”

His pointed interest in her was for the benefit of the other guests, she suspected. Despite her position as a paid servant, they would not dare snub her if she enjoyed Baron Sinclair’s support.

Her heart began to race as she stared up at Damien. He was sensual, vital, with a lethal charm that made him irresistible. Even if his attentiveness was a pretense, she couldn’t deny its powerful effect.

His strategy yielded the intended result. Although the ladies generally maintained a cool distance, Vanessa was soon surrounded by a virtual army of gentlemen, both young and old, begging to be introduced and requesting to fill her dance card. Determined to enjoy the evening, she allowed herself to be swept away.

She lost sight of Damien after that. Some time later when she paused between sets for a glass of ratafia, she let her gaze surreptitiously search for him. When she spied him across the room, his eyes briefly, hotly connected with hers. Vanessa felt the familiar sensual thrill ripple through her. Then her partner claimed her attention, and she had to turn away with a feigned smile.

Not everyone at the ball was a stranger to her. She had a nodding acquaintance with several ladies from her years in London, and one in particular she knew well. Lettice Perine had made her come-out the same Season as Vanessa, had married within a few months of her, and was widowed the same year.

Vanessa was heartened halfway through the evening to see Lettice approach her with a friendly smile.

“Darling, it has been ages,” Lettice exclaimed as they pressed cheeks in greeting. “I needn’t ask how you are doing. It’s obvious you are a great success. I couldn’t get near you for the crowd.”

Vanessa sidestepped the remark and surveyed her friend, who was blazing in diamonds. “You are looking very well, Lettice. But I never expected to find you in Warwickshire. Do you live nearby?”

“We are merely visiting. Robert has a daughter here.”

“Robert?”

“My new husband. I married again, did you not hear?” With a nod of her head, she gestured toward a portly, elderly gentleman standing near the punch bowl, and smiled fondly. “I am plain Mrs. Bevers now. Robert is a cit who made his fortune in trade. He isn’t the most exciting or passionate lover, I fear, but I couldn’t ask for more congenial companionship. I am surprisingly happy, Vanessa. Robert is a dear, and he’s very good to me, even if we do live on the fringes of society.”

She held up her hand to show off her diamond rings and bracelet. “After Percy’s death I discovered myself nearly destitute. You suffered the same fate, I understand, poor darling. But you have come up in the world, I see.”

Vanessa raised a polite eyebrow.

“The gentlemen are all wild for you, I notice. No doubt they think you exceptional to hold the interest of the infamous Lord Sin. What is your secret, darling?”

“I have no secret, Lettice. I am here as companion to Lord Sinclair’s sister.”

Lettice gave her an arch look. “Of course. Well, companion or no, half the ladies here are green with envy. That’s why you are being given the cold shoulder. But I’ll wager most of them would offer their eyeteeth to have such a magnificent man in their bed.”

Vanessa felt herself stiffen at the casual assumption she was sharing Damien’s bed, although she managed to hide her dismay behind a bland expression. When she remained at a loss for words, her friend’s gaze strayed to the far end of the room, where Damien was surrounded by a group of fawning ladies.

“I don’t blame you in the least for setting your cap at him, Vanessa. What woman could resist him-a renowned rake who is sinfully handsome, outrageously charming, and devilishly rich? But you chose the most challenging bachelor in England. He has eluded countless lures, you know.”

Vanessa forced a wry smile. “So I hear.”

“You would be wise not to become too enamored of him. Lady Varley made an utter fool of herself last year, pursuing Sinclair after he had ended their liaison.” Lettice leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Take my advice, darling. When he tires of you, as he is sure to do, find yourself a wealthy patron with the wherewithal to keep you in jewels and gowns for life. Better yet, find an elderly gentleman and drive him besotted, then persuade him to wed you. If you are fortunate, he will make an amiable companion, one you might even come to love. If not, well, you will probably outlive him by many years.”

“I am not interested in marrying again, I assure you,” Vanessa replied with conviction, ignoring her friend’s other advice.

She was sorry when Lettice shortly begged her leave and went to seek out another acquaintance. She had enjoyed seeing a familiar face among strangers, and she was pleased that her friend had found happiness in such unlikely circumstances.

Yet the conversation had disturbed her. If Lettice assumed she and Damien were lovers, no doubt others had, as well. It seemed obvious now that that was a better explanation for the cold reception she’d been given than her lowered status as a mere servant. Her attempt to hide their relationship behind the respectable post of companion had failed. Lord Sin was simply too notorious a figure to support so frail a pretense.

It also was becoming clear she wasn’t likely to escape the relationship without being branded as a wanton.

Suddenly warm in the heat of the ballroom and needing a respite from the crowd, Vanessa slipped through the open French doors, out onto the terrace. The summer night air was cool on her flushed skin, the scene peaceful, with the moon a huge, brilliant disk bathing the landscape below. Yet even the beauty couldn’t calm the turmoil of her thoughts.

Her reputation would perhaps be in tatters by the time her term as Damien’s mistress ended. Even so, Vanessa thought defiantly, she would have made the same decision again. Being ostracized by society was not too high a price to pay for her sisters’ sake.