Three months later.

The ballroom of Wilborne Hall was a dazzling spectacle, illuminated by the warm glow of hundreds of candles. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering reflections on the polished marble floor as ladies in elegant gowns twirled in the arms of finely dressed gentlemen. The London Season might be over, but Viscount Ravenscroft's celebration for his cousin's birthday was in full swing.

Tucked away in a corner, Olivia stood with her friends, the self-proclaimed Brazen Bluestockings, sipping punch and trying to focus on their chatter. It was her first social event since returning from America a week ago, and while she was happy to be reunited with her friends, her mind kept drifting to the man who had turned her world upside down.

Adrian Warble.

The name was like a thorn in her heart, a painful reminder of all she had lost. Even now, three months after their parting, the memory of his touch, his kiss, sent a shiver of longing and regret down her spine.

Her return had gone better than expected. Her parents were so relieved when they saw her that their anger was easily overshadowed by the joy of having her back safe and sound. The journey back to England had been a much less eventful one, onboard a passenger vessel with a matronly chaperone provided by her brother's widow. Her reputation remained intact.

As far as society knew, Olivia had simply visited her family in America. A perfectly respectable reason for missing the Season. Only Rain knew the truth about the wild, reckless journey she'd undertaken, but the duchess would never tell a soul.

It was a fortunate development, but Olivia couldn't help being left with a bitter taste in her mouth. All of that...and she'd never even found Dash. Her grand romantic gesture had been for nought. She had given up on the chance of real, true love for a man who she couldn't even find.

Maybe it was what she deserved after leaving Adrian the way she had.

"Olivia, you must tell us about America and your trip!" Eleanor 'Nell' Ainsworth's eager voice cut through her miserable thoughts. "What was it like? Are American men handsome?"

Carefully arranging her features into a mask of carefree delight, Olivia forced a smile. "It was quite an adventure," she said, sticking to the well-rehearsed tale she'd spun since returning. Most of it was even true. "I spent most of the time with my nephew and his mother. It was wonderful to finally meet him after all these years."

Ivy Hemsworth, recently married but still as vivacious as ever, leaned in with a grin. "And to think you missed the entire Season for this trip. There must have been some handsome American gentlemen that caught your eye, surely?"

Her throat tightened. If only they knew the truth - that she'd stowed away on a ship, disguised as a boy, all to chase after Dash like a fool. Only to meet a man who had her twisted in knots.

"No." She laughed lightly. "I'm afraid not. My attentions were quite occupied by my nephew."

And by miserable thoughts of Dash. The man she'd once thought hung the moon and the stars. The safe, comfortable choice. Not like Adrian. Adrian who made her feel things she never had before. Complicated, frightening feelings that were larger than life.

"You seem different, Olivia." Nell's green eyes filled with concern. "Quieter, somehow. Are you quite sure you're all right?"

She wasn't sure. Not in the slightest. How could she be, when the man who'd occupied her thoughts for weeks likely despised her now? She'd run from him like a coward, too afraid to face the intensity of her feelings.

"Of course," she lied, her smile brittle. "Only weary from my travels, that's all."

She prayed they'd let the matter drop. The last thing she wanted was to dwell on her foolishness. Her cowardice. Returning to England had been both a relief and a torment, a chance to escape her mixed up feelings for Adrian and a bitter reminder of all she had lost.

Her friends exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced. But before they could press further, a sudden wave of murmurs rippled through the ballroom, snippets of conversation drifting to their corner.

"Have you seen?"

"He hasn't attended any social events in years..."

"Quite the scandal when he took to the sea..."

"Still as handsome as ever."

Her heart stuttered as a sickening sense of unease unfurled in her stomach. It couldn't be. He couldn't be here. He was meant to stay on his ship and sail out of her life forever.

Following the direction of the crowd's collective gaze, she slowly turned, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on a tall, achingly familiar figure.

Adrian.

Here. In England. In Tilbury.

He stood at the edge of the dance floor, resplendent in formal evening wear. Gone were the loose shirts and weathered breeches of his life at sea. In their place was a perfectly tailored black coat that accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, a crisp white shirt, and fitted trousers. He looked every inch the gentleman he was, his commanding presence drawing the eyes of every woman in the room.

Her breath was coming in shallow gasps and she couldn't move, couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Memories assailed her, vivid and visceral. The rasp of his stubble against her skin, the heat of his mouth on hers, the way he'd whispered her name in the darkness of his cabin.

As if sensing her gaze, his head turned, her dark eyes locking onto hers across the crowded ballroom. For a moment, the world fell away, and there was only him, only the pounding of her heart, and the rush of blood in her ears.

His expression was unreadable, a mask of perfect politeness that betrayed nothing of his thoughts. And yet, the intensity of his stare, the way his gaze seemed to strip her bare, left her in no doubt of the emotions simmering beneath the surface.

Anger. Pain. Betrayal.

She wanted to flee. Wanted to hide from the accusation in his eyes, the blame she knew she deserved. But she was rooted to the spot, paralysed by the warring impulses of shame and longing.

"Who is that man with Lord Richmond?" Nell's voice cut through Olivia's misery. "I don't believe I've seen him before, and everyone in attendance appears to be staring at him."

"Captain Warble," she muttered quietly, unsure if her friends could even hear her.

Alice nodded. "Lord Adrian Warble, Lord Richmond's younger brother. He hasn't attended the London Season or really any social events for years. My cousin knows him and invited him since he was in the country. I suspect Ravenscroft didn't expect him to agree." She shrugged. "They both arrived yesterday. I must say that Lord Warble is far more pleasant than Lord Richmond."

"Your cousin and aunt have done such a wonderful job of putting this ball and week of activities together for your birthday," Nell gushed. "I can't believe how many people are in attendance. It almost feels like a London ball!"

Olivia barely heard them, her attention riveted on Adrian as he began to make his way towards her. Panic clawed at her throat. What was he doing here? He should be on his ship. He'd told her himself that he no longer enjoyed the social scene. And yet... here he was.

Coming to a stop before her, his usually so warm brown eyes bore into hers with a coldness she wasn't accustomed to. He executed a perfect bow.

"Ladies. Miss Newton," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "I'm so pleased to see you again."

His tone was polite and his words were perfectly proper. But it was obvious that he was lying. She could hear the barely leashed anger just below the surface.

"Cap...Lord Warble." She dipped into a curtsy, her knees wobbling. "I didn't realise you were acquainted with Lord Ravenscroft."

I didn't expect to see you again.

A mirthless smile curved his lips. "There's a great deal you don't know about me, Miss Newton. But then, you didn't bother to stick around long enough to find out, did you?"

She flinched, the barb hitting home. Around them, her friends took great effort to look at anything except them, though they were obviously listening to every word. What must they think?

The music swelled, and the opening notes of a waltz filled the air. Adrian extended his hand, his eyes glinting with challenge.

"Would you do me the honour of this dance?"

Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to make some excuse and flee the suffocating confines of the ballroom.

"I...my dance card is full," she lied.

He raised a dark eyebrow, and before she could react, he reached out and grabbed the card attached to her wrist. Turning it over and seeing the damning blank space, he said nothing, just met her gaze squarely.

"Oh, I must have miscounted," she muttered.

Countless curious gazes weighed heavily on her, the other guests' interest piqued by the sight of the elusive Lord Adrian Warble singling her out for attention. To reject him now would be to court gossip and invite speculation about the nature of their connection. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Swallowing hard, she placed her hand in his when he offered it again. The heat of his touch seared her even through the fabric of her glove. "Of course."

His hand was warm and firm on hers as he led her onto the dance floor. When he slid his arm around her waist, she had to suppress a shiver. How different from the last time he'd held her. Her heart clenched at the memory of his hands on her thighs, her most intimate parts.

"You're looking well," he said as they began to move to the music. The words were polite, empty of meaning, but the anger was still simmering beneath. "America clearly agreed with you."

"I—" She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" The question was sharp enough to draw blood. "Or was it all for nothing?"

"Adrian—"

"No." His fingers tightened around hers, and his hand at her waist flexed. "You lost the right to use my given name when you ran away from me without so much as a farewell."

Tears burned behind her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" His laugh was bitter. "Sorry you ran, or sorry I found you?"

"I wasn't exactly hiding," she muttered. "You know where I live. I talked about Tilbury many times."

"True."

Silence stretched between them as they continued dancing, and for every step, her heart ached a little more. He was so angry. So forbidding. So unlike the man she'd come to know on the ship. The one who had challenged her and teased her, made her feel seen. Desired.

"You left," he suddenly said harshly, quiet enough that only she could hear him. "Without a word. Not even a backward glance. Was I truly not worth more than that to you?"

She stiffened, her steps faltering. "I had to..." It was barely a whisper, her throat tight.

"Had to what?" He shook his head. "Had to break your word? Had to flee like a coward while I was preoccupied? Tell me, Olivia, what was so pressing that you couldn't wait a few more minutes to face me?"

There was no answer. She couldn't explain how terrified she'd been of the intensity of her feelings for him. Still was. How much easier it was to cling to her safe, comfortable feelings for Dash than face the overwhelming reality of what Adrian made her feel.

"That's what I thought," he said into her silence. His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something raw and wounded before it shuttered away behind a mask of cold amusement. "And now you've returned to your real life, your real love. Tell me, does your precious Dash know how wanton you were in my arms? How you gasped and moaned my name, how—"

"Stop," she hissed, her cheeks flaming with humiliation and anger. Glancing around the room, she prayed no one had overheard him. "Are you trying to ruin my reputation? You go too far, Captain."

"Do I?" He studied her with hard, unforgiving eyes. "I would say I haven't gone nearly far enough."

She nearly stumbled over her feet then, but his grip on her held her steady. "Wh...what do you mean?"

He leaned a little closer, and there was something else burning deep inside his eyes, more than the anger and hurt. A fire that threatened to engulf her if she wasn't careful.

"Maybe I shouldn't have stopped." His dark voice caressed her, sending goosebumps over her flesh. "Maybe I should have buried myself in you. Made you scream my name for real as I brought you more pleasure than you've ever experienced."

A rush of heat gathered between her legs and she had to bite back a gasp at his wicked words.

"A...Adri—" She cut herself off as the hard glint returned to his eyes.

The waltz came to an end, the final notes hovering in the air. He stepped back and released her so abruptly she nearly stumbled.

"Good evening, Miss Newton. I'm sure we will see more of each other this week."

It wasn't a threat. Not exactly. But something in his tone made her shiver. With a final, mocking bow, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart in her throat. She watched him go, anger and anguish rising up to choke her. How dare he speak to her like that? What if someone had overheard him?

But underneath the indignation, and beneath the hurt, a small voice whispered that she liked it. If he still thought of her like that, maybe he didn't hate her completely. Maybe there was still a small part of him that cared.

Needing air and space to think, to breathe, she fled the ballroom, seeking refuge on the terrace facing the dark back garden. But even as the cool night air caressed her heated cheeks, she knew there was no escape from this. No easy way out of the tangled emotions in her chest.

She wanted to scream at Adrian. Rage and cry and beg for forgiveness all at once. But her pride held her back, that stubborn core of her that refused to bend, even when it threatened to break.

This was her mess. She had created this situation with her cowardice. Her stubborn need to see things through with Dash. The man she had chased across an ocean. The man she had once thought was her true love. He must be returning to England soon. She would see him again. Speak to him. And it would tell her, once and for all, that she'd made the right choice. That her feelings for him were as strong and true as ever.

They had to be.

Because if not, she had made the worst mistake of her life.

And Adrian might never forgive her.

~~~~~~