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Time slowed to a crawl. The book lay unread in his hand. His eyes were fixed instead out the window, on the evening star hanging low and bright in the sky like a jewel against the dark velvet of the night. Venus was uncommonly bright tonight again.

Finally, he laid the book aside. He was utterly mad, damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Which meant there was no reason to fight the urge, no matter how mad. He reflected a moment on the possible consequences of his contemplated actions, then got up, put on his coat and let himself out of the house.

Chapter Five

After a whole day of not thinking about Harry, Mariah found she couldn’t stop thinking of him once night fell.

Was he out somewhere, standing in the dark on another balcony with another young lady? Or was he in a ballroom, holding that other lady in his arms and teasing her in that droll tone? What did his smile look like? Even though she didn’t want to know—vexing man—it was killing her that she didn’t. If she could meet him again, just once, just to put her nose in the air and sniff at him... Or perhaps sneak up on him and startle him... Or simply gloat, victoriously, that she had found him out after all...

She sighed and tossed her book aside. She hadn’t managed to read more than a page. Papa was at his club, and even though it still felt early Mariah thought she might as well go to bed. She and her mother had spent the evening at home, dining with Aunt Marion and Joan. Her cousin seemed to have forgotten all about Harry, which put Mariah even more out of sorts. She found she still had some feelings about him she would have liked to vent, and Joan was the only person who could possibly have sympathized.

“Good night, Mama,” she said with a sigh, getting to her feet. “I shall see you in the morning.” Mariah stopped to kiss her mother’s cheek as she passed.

“Good night, dear.” Her mother put a hand on her arm. “Are you well? It’s still early.”

“Yes, perfectly. Just a bit tired.” She made a sheepish face. “I forgot how very tiring balls can be.”

Mama smiled fondly. “I understand. Sleep well.”

Mariah trudged up the stairs, wretched curiosity still roiling her mind. She wasn’t sure she would even be able to fall asleep, with the restless buzzing of all her questions. She sat idly tracing circles on the dressing table with one finger while Sally, her maid, brushed out and braided her hair, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked petulant and cross, like a child denied a sweet. It brought a reluctant smile to her face. “Ninny,” she whispered to herself. She couldn’t believe she was acting this way over any gentleman, let alone one she’d only spoken to for a few minutes.

“Pardon, my lady?”

Sally’s voice recalled her to sense. “Nothing. Just woolgathering.” She stood up and let Sally unfasten her dress. “Have you got a sweetheart, Sally?”

The maid’s eyes barely flickered as she helped Mariah undress. “No, m’lady.”

“Hmm.” Mariah pulled on her nightgown thoughtfully. “You’re better off, you know. Men are such vexing creatures.”

“Yes, ma’am. My mum always did say so.”

Mariah looked at her in surprise, then burst out laughing. Sally smiled a little, too. “Your mum was right. Well, you may go.”

Sally curtsied and slipped out of the room. Mariah flung her long braid over her shoulder and crossed to the window. It was a warm night with a gentle breeze, very like last night. She leaned out, wiggling her toes against the carpet, but it wasn’t the same as having them caressed by the night air. So that was one thing Harry had done for her: shown her how lovely it was to go barefoot at night. She pulled the drapes open a little more to allow that breeze in and crossed the room to her bed, putting out the lamps as she went.

Perhaps there was some other way she could discover who he was. She considered it while plumping up the pillows behind her. Mama said she was likely to meet him again at another social gathering, and Mama was probably right. She would just have to keep her eyes open—and her ears alert. It wasn’t very satisfying, but what else could she do? Wait for him to seek her out again, after he had said quite confidently that she could not find him? And been right, too, blast him.

“Lady Mariah.”

Mariah opened her eyes and frowned, listening. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she wasn’t sure she had actually heard anything. Had Sally come back? No, the door hadn’t opened; it must have been her imagination.

“Lady Mariah.”

She sat up in bed, this time sure she had heard someone whisper her name. “Yes?” she said tentatively. “Who is there?”

“Just I,” came the quiet reply, just now resolving into a familiar voice. “Harry.”

She bolted out of bed, her heart slamming, and looked around. “Where are you?” she gasped, grabbing her extinguished candle.

“The window.” She looked closer, and sure enough, saw the faint outline of a head and shoulders.

“What on earth are you doing there?” she exclaimed, taking a step toward him.

“Seeing if I am welcome to come in,” he said in the same barely amused, utterly assured tone she remembered too well.

Mariah stopped dead, wide-eyed in disbelief. He had climbed up the side of the house to call on her? Here? Now? “Come in?” she repeated stupidly. “This is my bedroom.” Only a scoundrel would try to climb into a young lady’s bedroom, and only a young lady with no morals would invite him in. Why was he even asking?

“Yes, I know. It took devilishly long to figure that out. Shall I stay, or go?”