The hour was very late when Evelyn realised her fan was missing. It was her favourite piece, gifted by her brother. Where could it be? She retraced her steps. No easy feat. She ducked low to look underfoot, beneath wide skirts, around drunk slumped bodies even as she danced away from wayward hands. Might she have dropped it out in the passageway? She found nothing except for a few over-exerted revellers snoring away.

Just when she was about to give up, a deep, rich voice purred over her shoulders, "Good evening, Lady Evelyn."

Without turning, she instinctively knew who spoke to her. That voice, so erudite and deep, could belong to but one man. She turned to find herself faced with a towering silhouette against a faint orange glow cast from the ballroom. He eased out of the shadow into a beam of moonlight from a nearby window. It was indeed Philip Mallory's dark-haired companion.

From a distance, he was striking. Up close, Evelyn understood the spell he cast over an entire ballroom. He was possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. With his height and build, he was striking enough, but his looks resembled a painting of some ancient hero. Indominable. Perfect. Somehow, he knew her name. How?

As he drew nearer Evelyn's mouth went dry just as she noticed an odd flutter in her chest. His slow, graceful movements made her think of a predator stalking prey. Her flushed cheeks felt pricked by a thousand pins all over when she realised her ruinous predicament of being alone with this stranger. A stranger of great importance from his carriage and the way this lot fawned over him. What should she do? What could she do? So she did the one thing she knew to do and sank into a deep curtsey. "My lord."

He answered with a curt bow. "Have you lost your way, my lady?"

That lingering pale gaze felt like a caress. He was so close now she could detect a scent of sandalwood, earth and manliness. His presence made her head swim as if she had too much wine. She thought she could hear a ringing in her ears over the faint music, even as her heart thundered in her chest. She tried to recall all the rules dictating proper conduct between a young lady and a man she didn't know - and drew a blank. Should she walk away? Yet, how could she without causing offence? "Were we introduced, my lord?"

He peered down at her with a look of wry amusement in his pale eyes. "You made quite an impression on everyone."

"Not everyone, I'm sure."

"My cousin, Philip, then."

"Mr Mallory?" Yes, she saw the resemblance now. "We've met in passing. What sort of impression could I have made?"

The lingering look he cast upon her made Evelyn flush and lowered her gaze. Her averted eyes allowed Lord Davenport an unfettered look at her.

Silky dark hair. Dewy skin. Those full red lips were made to be kissed often. The pale moonlight in that darkened gallery cast shadows that outlined her features and gave her an innocent glow. No! Not innocent. No young lady in the habit of meeting men in secret can be as pure as she appeared. The fact she hadn't run away from him now was confirmation of her true character. Besides, her expressive eyes were far too bright with intelligence to be some insipid ingenue.

Lord Davenport's languished gaze travelled down the curve of her slender neck, to trace over a shining smooth pendant nestling in the deep valley of her full breasts. How he envied that little pendant, resting between the perfect twin mounds of her decolletage. That nonsense of guarding Philip against this chancer faded from his mind with each rise and fall of her chest. The unspeakable things he wanted to do to her. Would she let him? In his mind, he saw her again with the shadowy man and thought to himself: Perhaps.

He lowered his face to say, "I'm sure you've got a trove of admirers to tell you how delightful you are."

A shiver ran up and down Evelyn's spine to feel his breath on her temple. She smelt burnt wax, and it made her feel lightheaded, intoxicated by the attention of this tall, handsome stranger standing much too close to her. His colourless eyes sparkled in the darkness. "I - I have no admirers."

"When you are given a compliment, a simple thank you will do."

The hint of humour in his deep, velvety voice caused her cheeks to dimple in response. "Most people are intrigued by something new. But I assure you what little fascination I hold now will fade away soon enough when it's discovered that I am quite ordinary."

His eyes smiled even if his lips didn't move. "You believe novelty, without substance, will quickly lose its appeal?"

"Of course."

He arched a brow, amused. "You don't believe you have substance?"

She gaped up at him. "It's not for me to decide."

"True. Even so, all young ladies feed on adoration. Deserved or not."

That's when she reached for the pendant hanging around her neck and thus called his attention once more to the curves of her bosom. "I like my compliments to be well earned, and by those who know me well. Coming from strangers, it's rather horrifying."

"You don't believe your beauty deserves admiration?"

Still clutching her pendant, she peered up at him again. "When one relies on appearance alone, then one must always be wary that a careless word or thoughtless deed could cause outrage and shatter that illusion."

He bent down even closer to speak into her ear, bringing with him the scent of tobacco, whiskey and something else. "Are you in the habit of being outrageous?"

Evelyn's lashes fluttered as she struggled to breathe at his closeness. "I'd rather not live under false expectations."

"Is that not the purpose here?" he asked with a sudden thickness in his throat. "To be scrutinised, admired at this marriage market?"

"Marriage--?" A brilliant smile, dimples and all, broke out across her beautiful face. She gave a little giggle. "Ah yes. This whole thing feels so contrived, doesn't it? I half expected someone to examine my teeth soon."

Her bright, infectious smile made his lips twitch in response. He cleared his throat instead as he moved away. "A foreigner, you say? Where did you come from? No one seems to know."

It was an innocent enough question. Yet that languished look hardened and that pretty smile faded away. "You seem to know so much about me, and I don't even know how to address you, my lord."

He ignored her to press on. "You're related to the Warwicks, I'm told. I'm not aware that the Warwicks had foreign relations."

"Why would a great man, such as yourself, take such trouble with me?" she replied with great care.

His thick, dark brows furrowed as he levelled his icy blue glare down upon her. "Why so evasive? These are simple questions asked of any new friend."

"I--" Her perfect little face stared back at him with growing panic behind her expressive eyes. "I'm nobody, sir."

"Your presence here says otherwise. Tell me, who are your people?"

"As I've said--"

Just then, they both heard ringing laughter before the sound of approaching footsteps. Before she could react, he took a hold of her and rushed her through a set of terrace doors, out onto the moonlit terrace.

Alarm bells blared in Evelyn's head as a sudden gust of chilly night air blew across her feverish skin. The hairs on her exposed arms stood up. She was alone and vulnerable with this frightful stranger. And she still didn't know his name. Panicked, she wrenched herself from his grasp. Too late, she discovered she had stumbled further into the night, away from propriety. Should anyone else come across them now, there would be no saving her!

Meanwhile, he stalked towards her like some great, merciless beast. "What you won't say reveals more than any fib you could conjure up."

She struggled to regain her composure as her scalp prickled with alarm. "What a shocking thing to say, my lord."

"Then let me shock you further." In his mind, Lord Davenport saw her with Elwood's look-alike, again. Even now, she spoke with him, a stranger with such ease. That was all the confirmation he needed to her true character. It gave him license to reach for her waist, to pull her against him with rude force. He felt her racing pulse beneath her scorching skin. Her glistening, full lips invited sin.

Lord Davenport lowered the cadence of his voice for added meaning when he spoke again. "Selecting the insipid Warwicks as your way into society was clever. Be forewarned, though, your charade will not last. And when you're found out, I assure you, you won't enjoy the consequences."

In her desperate attempt to escape him, Evelyn didn't understand him at first. "You think--? That I--? Is it so easy to infiltrate your lot? I wonder why more haven't tried, then."

A corner of Lord Davenport's lips curled upwards in a half-smile as he reached for her chin. She did not scream, swoon or panic. Her determined little face stared up at him with steel in her gaze, and he felt himself falling into their depth. "Now think of what this lot will do to you when they uncover your ruse? These lords and ladies. What do you imagine they're capable of? Hmm?"

It was stupid of her to have let his good looks lower her guard, she berated herself. And he wasn't so very handsome. He was horrid! Beastly! She jerked her face from his grasp as he released her, causing her to stumble back a step. "I won't dignify your baseless accusations with my response. I owe you no explanation. You're a stranger to me. And, you sir, are not someone I wish to know!"

"You'll find that I may be the only one you ought to know." His tone was dripping with meaning. The directness of his gaze down the length of her revealed his true intentions.

She was about to turn and flee when he reached into his jacket and withdrew something from the inner breast pocket. Her fan! She dashed forth to reclaim it. But she wasn't quick enough. He jerked it up, out of her reach.

Her frustration stung her eyes. "What do you want, sir?"

Somehow she kept still when he pointed the fan at her heaving chest like a dagger at her throat. She suppressed a shriek when he dragged the cold, hard edge over the swell of her exposed flesh before lifting her necklace chain to let the pendant dangle a bit. She glared at him with steel in her eyes that showed none of the fear she felt. Then the hard pendant dropped back against her feverish skin.

Once again, his eyes smiled, even if his lips did not. "The consequences of this duplicity will be beyond anything you can imagine. You may need my friendship then. Will I be kind? That will depend entirely on you."

"You've quite the imagination, my lord," she retorted."Tell your story to whomever you'd like. Truth is not malleable. It cannot be changed by innuendo and baseless conjecture from a stranger. And you, sir, are not someone I wish to know. Good evening!"

With a flick of a wrist, she snatched the fan from him before storming back inside.

******

It was close to dawn. Fatigued revellers were dropping like flies. Philip watched amused as footmen half dragged, half carried the over-exerted out of the ballroom. Philip craned his neck over the throng for a glimpse of Lady Evelyn or his cousin's distinct figure. Yet Lord Davenport was nowhere in sight. Lady Evelyn, too, had disappeared. He searched the ballroom several times and saw neither.

Philip was ready to give up when, suddenly, the resplendent Lady Evelyn materialised. Her rounded cheeks appear flushed as she paused in mid-stride when she saw several people staring. Several strands of her thick, dark locks hung in ringlets looked out of place. Then, with two deep breaths, she regained her composure as she found Lady Warwick.

The hair on the back of Philip's neck stood on its ends when he noticed his cousin slowly and steadily emerging from the same spot as Lady Evelyn. Lord Davenport paused to light a cigar. Then he saw Philip and went to join him.

Philip could not ignore the hint of a self-satisfied smile on his cousin's handsome face.