Dawning recognition lit her eyes. “Ah yes, I have heard of you.” She looked back in the direction of the ballroom, a faint frown marring her smooth face. “Perhaps it’s not wise for me to be alone with you.”
“You may be assured, you are quite safe with me. My reputation, though deserved in many areas, has been grossly twisted in others.”
For the first time a hint of humor lit her face. “So you are not a consummate rake and womanizer?”
He smiled slyly. “Oh yes, that’s true.”
She laughed then, and the sound was like bells.
“But you have not told me your identity,” he persisted.
She sobered. Clearing her throat, she replied in a very small voice, “I think perhaps that would be ill-advised.”
“Ah, I see. You are trying to be mysterious. Well, you are succeeding admirably.”
“No, you mistake me,” she said in some alarm. “Such subterfuge is quite beyond me, I assure you.”
“I was teasing,” he said.
Even in the dim light he could see the dark flush that stained her cheeks. “Of course you were,” she murmured. “But you see, even if we were to meet publicly I could never acknowledge you, having never been formally introduced. So it is best if we leave things as they are.”
He looked down at her bent head. He knew he could tease her identity from her, and quite easily too. But he also knew if he did he would cause her even more distress. He watched her hands clench in her lap. No, that he could never do. He was guilty of enough in his life without adding that to his list of sins.
“As you wish,” he said in a light voice.
She nodded, the movement jerky. “I think I had best go back inside.”
As she rose, he stood along with her and held out his arm. She looked at it uncomprehendingly for a moment.
“I will not allow you to traverse the wilds of the Morledge gardens without a chaperone,” he said. “There is no telling what kind of beast may be lurking about.”
A ghost of a smile passed over her face. But as she took his arm and they turned for the lights of the ballroom, he thought soberly that for one as sweet and innocent as her, she could encounter no worse beast than him.
Chapter 2
Imogen was achingly aware of the muscled arm under her hand. She should have run from him the moment he had released her from that unexpected kiss. Any proper miss would have. But she had stayed. And then he had shown himself to be quite kind, and she found she didn’t want to leave him.
He was not at all how she had assumed one of London’s most notorious womanizers would be. There was a gentleness, an unfeigned consideration in him that belied every claim she had ever heard. And oh yes, she had heard the stories. How he gambled and drank till dawn, seduced innocent and experienced women alike, and gloried in every dangerous pastime a man of his ilk could get up to. It was amazing what people would say in front of one when one was considered nigh invisible.
And he had kissed her. Her, plain and awkward Miss Imogen Duncan. Granted, he had not intended to, had believed her to be someone else. But even so.
They reached the shadows that hugged the side of the townhouse just before the bright light pouring off the terrace, and she stopped. He halted beside her.
“I suppose I must leave you here.” His voice was low and shivered through her.
She nodded. “It really wouldn’t do—”
He held up a hand. “Say no more. I would not have your reputation harmed, as it certainly would be were I to walk you back into the ballroom from the seclusion of the gardens.” He bowed gallantly over her hand. “Thank you for your company this evening, my mysterious lady. I pray we meet again.”
Imogen blushed and curtsied. “Lord Willbridge.”
With utmost will she pulled her hand from his warm grasp. The loss of his touch was almost heartbreaking in its intensity. Before she could reconsider she spun about and raced up the stairs to the terrace, the back of her neck tingling with awareness of his presence behind her. She made it to the safety of the ballroom, blending into the milling crowd with little trouble before swiftly locating a small alcove to take shelter in. Once carefully ensconced, partially hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain, she dared to peek out.
Her vantage gave her an unfettered view of the terrace doors. In spite of her appalling vision, she knew the second Lord Willbridge strode back into the ballroom. Heat shot down her spine. He was so incredibly tall, so commanding and magnetic. She wished she could look on him clearly so she could soak in the masculine beauty of his features in the bright candlelight.
As if in answer to her desire, he turned and headed her way. She gasped softly, ducking deeper into the shadows. There was no way he could have seen where she was hiding…could he?
To her horror—and secret delight—he stopped directly in front of her alcove. Had she reached out from her hiding place she could have touched him. He was so close to her that she could see every glorious detail of him without the need of her spectacles.
