Lady Ann Seymour, ever the worldly bon vivant, would sooner swallow her own tongue than betray her true feelings as she observed her erstwhile lover from a distance.

The day she dreaded had finally arrived. He had returned all her letters and mementoes, along with a generous parting gift. It was beyond generous, but it left no doubt that their affair was over. She had enough pride left not to scream or cry or make a public scene.

But he didn't make it easy for her, as he seemed to be at all the social events he once avoided. Thus, they would exchange public greetings in passing as though they were no more than casual acquaintances.

She resorted to shadowing him to steal glances at his prepossessing mien from a distance. How her poor heart ached for him while he seemed to have wiped their time together completely from his mind. Memories of his lips, his body, tormented her till she couldn't sleep or take more than a few bites of food. Yet, despite her anguish, she soon noticed something quite peculiar.

The usually impassive Lord Davenport was paying an undue amount of attention to every young woman who threw herself in his path. As he was in search of a wife, it wasn't such a surprise. But then Ann noticed he was selective in who he gave his attention to. He seemed to orbit around one particular dark-haired beauty, even as he took great pains to engage with every young lady around her, but not her. Her, he left alone. But as soon as she moved away, he soon followed. Several times, he tilted his head as if to eavesdrop on her conversation. It's as if some invisible string had attached Lord Davenport to this young woman known as Lady Evelyn. Why then would he go through the trouble to feign disinterest?

Ann knew the answer.

That night, she witnessed the moment Lord Davenport couldn't hold back any longer and approached that young lady.

"Well, well," Ann muttered to herself through eyes clouded with unshed tears. "It seems Lord Davenport is a mere mortal after all."

At that moment, Henry stepped into her field of vision. He swept her a gallant bow before his gaze followed hers across the room. "Ah, it seems Lord Davenport could not resist Lady Evelyn's beauty any more than the rest."

"Her beauty is no more remarkable than any of the others," Ann sneered.

"Perhaps. Yet the recent rumours of the lady's substantial fortune enhanced her beauty, I'd say," was Henry's glib reply. "Of course, Lord Davenport could never be mistaken for a fortune hunter any more than Midas."

Ann forced back her tears with an affected, brilliant smile. "Why, Mr Wilkes, are we to stand here and gawk all evening? Shall we go through?"

Henry smiled again as he offered Ann his hand. Ann turned to cast one last glance over her shoulder, but Lord Davenport and Lady Evelyn had disappeared.

************************************

Evelyn tried to follow the others out of the salon, but Lord Davenport stopped her with a hand on her elbow. He pulled her back. "We must talk."

"We have nothing to say to each other," she croaked even as he pressed forward. She scooted back from this large man until a wall at her back stopped her. Should anyone see them like this—

"Don't we?" He was so close she could smell him and feel his hot breath caress her cheek. "After all the intimacies we've shared--"

"I've never shared a thing with you!" she countered. Somewhere in the distance, a peal of laughter reminded Evelyn that she was teetering on the edge of ruin. How did he corner her yet again? She didn't dare raise her voice lest someone might hear her and come to investigate. "Why must you continue to torment me?"

Instead of forcing himself on her as he had done before, as she expected of him now, he drew back with a look of genuine confusion. "Why would you say such a thing?"

When she didn't answer, he reached for one of her small gloved hands. He touched her as though she belonged to him already. "My lord, what do you want from me?"

He was searching into her eyes with an expression she didn't understand. "Must I say it? Can't you guess it, sharp little thing that you are?" She watched, entranced, as if from somewhere over her own body as he stroked the silk glove covering her hand, up the length of her slender arm. Those striking pale eyes held her in their spell. The deep velvety cadence of his voice turned husky. "I know I'll pay a steep price for this."

He peeled back the silky fabric of her long glove down to her elbow, past her forearm, until her bare, pale wrist was exposed to his lips. She shivered, and her lashes fluttered when he kissed her blue pulsating vein, once, twice. That glove was pulled from her hand and allowed to drop, forgotten. He studied the lines on her hot, damp palm as if he might find the answers to life's mysteries there. Then his pale, hypnotic eyes flicked up, and she felt her insides burst with a sensation that was wild, raw, uncontrollable...

When he reached for her chin to run a thumb over her plump parted lips, she shuddered from head to toe. Her resolve, what remained of it, melted away. All that's left was a raw hunger for this intoxicating, endless torrent of emotions he stoked in her.

"How can I keep away from you? I'd tear this house down stone by stone, brick by brick with my bare hands to be near you!" He whispered those words with a fierceness that left no doubt of his meaning.

"What do you want from me?" she asked again, terrified and yet excited beyond reason.

"Your mercy, Madam. Put me out of my misery!"

When he reached for her tiny waist to pull her to him, she offered no resistance.  She held very still when he bent his head down to hers, with his lips parted ever so lightly over hers.  When he made no further move, Evelyn felt forced to rise on her toes to meet him. Since that first time he kissed her, she thought of little else. Even as she battled with herself over the propriety of such a thing, she yearned to feel it again. It occurred to her that the urbane Lord Davenport knew exactly the effects he had on her.

Against that wall, he took great care to taste, caress, and nibble her as if she was a delectable meal he wanted to savour. She must have done something wrong for he drew back. She leaned forward with her lips on offer, eager for more. At his height, it was easy for him to remain out of her reach no matter how hard she tried. Perhaps her efforts to mirror him were too clumsy. She tried again, and he jerked away again. She tried again, and again he denied her. When Evelyn was on the verge of tears, he grabbed hold of the back of her head and swooped down for one long, bruising kiss. As quickly as it started, it soon ended. He was panting as he rubbed his jaw with a rough hand. Then he dropped to one knee at her feet.

Evelyn's heart leapt into her throat! A different sort of excitement burst forth. When a man dropped to one knee before a lady, why then—! Evelyn could only blink when he held up her forgotten glove. The corners of his twinkling eyes crinkled as he presented it back to her. Then he stood up and strolled away.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. A few clusters took turns at the pianoforte while happy dancers displayed their skills.

Evelyn was in a daze. She had more wine than she was used to having. Her eyes returned again and again to Lord Davenport just a few yards away. It didn't matter that she was staring. Everyone gawked at him. Yet, he appeared to have forgotten her as he held court in the centre of an enraptured crowd that included several attractive young ladies.

The taste of him was still fresh on Evelyn's lips; his touch burned into her skin. But now his interest was in the pretty young things all vying for his attention. To the delight of them all, Lord Davenport had a word for each of them. Then, he smiled a knowing smile toward one particular lithe, flaxen-haired beauty.

Wine turned to vinegar in Evelyn's mouth as angry tears sprang to her eyes to see that beautiful young woman revel in Lord Davenport's attention.

"It's my fault," Evelyn thought. "I behaved wantonly, and now he's finished with me."

Still, she wondered just what he whispered in that perfect ear? What was the response that made a corner of Lord Davenport's beautiful lips curl so?

Unable to bear it a moment longer, Evelyn went to find Regina and Mary. She had to leave. She didn't trust herself to stay a moment longer.

************************

Lord Davenport watched Evelyn search out her companions. He knew provoking her jealousy was the surest way to send her running for the door. Luckily, neither of Evelyn's companions was inclined to leave yet. Good! It was high time they left this insipid gathering.

He hurried to follow Evelyn out without being seen. As she climbed into her coach, he yanked her surprised maid out of his way and slammed shut the door behind him just as the vehicle pulled away.

Evelyn wasn't surprised when Lord Davenport pushed his way in. Still, she gasped when he was on her in an instant. He had her in his long, muscled arms, and they tumbled together to the floor of the moving box in a sea of her skirts.

"Oh," was all she said when he covered every bit of exposed skin he could reach with fervent kisses. This was not the soft kisses of earlier. He devoured her. Consumed her. He dragged his tongue over her lips to explore the curve of her chin, her neck, till he found his way back to her full lips again.

The stifling, dark box rocked from side to side as it rumbled along. Each bump made her pert buttocks rub against his hardened cock as he cradled her against him. She held still when he stroked the little gold pendant hanging around her neck, then went exploring the deep valley it's nestled in.

"Don't--" she started to protest. But he silenced her with another dizzying kiss that forced her mind to empty. She uttered a resigned sigh when the lacing on her bodice fell away under his expert fingers. She curled her fingers over his when he had a handful of her full, naked breast. A whispered "no" died on her lips when he dipped down to suckle on a pert nipple, one then the other. This game was well beyond her.

"Give me those lips again," he whispered in a husky voice, strained by his desire. She tasted of powder, salt and —if he didn't know better— unblemished innocence. Her silky locks came tumbling out of their pins and curled around his fingers when he cupped the back of her head. Every part of him raged for more than her plump, soft lips. But no, not yet. There was a purpose to his self-denial.

Evelyn shut her mind to everything except these bursts of wild, heady sensations that consumed her. If he wasn't holding her, she was certain her boneless body would melt away. But when she felt her skirts lift and cold air on her thighs, did she snap back to reality.

"Please, don't--"

Again, he took a hold of her face to nibble her lips. "Hush, Poppet."

"But you mustn't--"

She realised now that she was lost from the moment she first laid eyes on him. This tall, dashing man made her forget everything decent and knew to be true. Even so, she had to push against his shoulders and chest with her useless little fist to at least try to preserve what little was left of her honour. She couldn't stop his long fingers from finding her most secret place. If this progressed further—! How could she resist him when his touch made her burst with an uncontrollable desire as fierce as the winds of a summer storm? The air felt just as thick and heavy as right before a storm.