Page 22

“Lily? Lillith?”

“Do I look like Lillith? If I remember correctly, the biblical stories connected to her are not very nice.”

“Lady Macbeth isn’t a nice lady either,” Joshua pointed out.

Lord Devin broke in. “I shall escort these young ladies to their house—not that you know where that is, Major FitzRoy, because you have no idea who they are.”

Never mind the fact that Joshua would always be able to pick out this lady’s lips, her chin, her eyes.

“I have no idea who they are,” he agreed. He reached out and tweaked his future wife’s veil so that it swung free, covering everything but that enchanting mouth of hers. Damn it, one glance at her lips, and scorching desire raced through his limbs again.

She was smiling. “Goodbye.”

There was a knowing laughter in his lady’s eyes; whether or not she acknowledged it, she knew that he was hers, as much as she was his.

He wanted nothing more than to catch her up and acquaint her with the ravaging hunger roused by her kisses. By the sultry hum in the back of her throat. By her laughter, the intelligence in her gaze, her arguments, her bravado, and her willfulness, too.

By everything about her.

“I have no idea who these ladies are—yet,” he clarified. “But I mean to amend my ignorance at my earliest opportunity.”

“No,” Lord Devin stated, his tone adamant. “I insist that you do not attempt to discover their names. Next Season I shall introduce you. Until then, this evening never happened.”

“I should prefer to be introduced before next Season,” Joshua said stubbornly. “I must obey orders, and I may not be in England next spring.”

His lady gasped, then pulled her veil back so she could see him clearly, tucking it behind her ear. Swift color came up in her cheeks. “Back to war?”

“I go where they send me.”

“You already know—” her cousin exclaimed, before she cut herself off again.

Joshua shot her a query, but she had buttoned up her mouth.

A small hand crept into his and curled around it. “We are not well acquainted, Major FitzRoy, but I would be most displeased if you were once again injured in battle. Or worse.”

Joshua saw worry in her eyes, and he smiled. “Have no fear. I have much to live for.”

Her hand slipped from his. “I shall pray for your wellbeing, Major.”

“Enough,” Lord Devin announced. “It is time to leave. Major FitzRoy, I look forward to introducing you to these ladies in the new year.” His hand shot out and caught Joshua’s wrist.

They were both big men, of a similar height, though Joshua was more muscular. He had the impulse to shift his weight and throw Lord Devin into the crowd of dancers. Instead, he glanced down at his wrist and then up at his lordship. “I must ask you to unhand me.”

“Do not attempt to discover this lady’s identity,” Lord Devin said, his eyes looking steadily into Joshua’s. “I ask you as a gentleman, on your honor.” He dropped his hand.

Joshua shook out his cuff. He was livid, but his blood was icy cool. Being the youngest major of his rank had led to jealousy; he had learned to overlook insolent behavior.

There was only one response to be made, so he made it. “I shall obey your injunction, Lord Devin. In return, I depend upon you to introduce me at your earliest convenience.”

“You mustn’t quarrel with each other,” his future wife cried. “Major FitzRoy, I promise, there are the best of reasons for our secrecy.”

He met his sprite’s eyes. “I do not wish to wait until next Season to court you, my lady. ‘Tis a year away. I leave for the battlefield in a month or so.”

He saw her slender throat bobble as she swallowed, anxiety deepening in her gaze. “You shall return, safe and well, after which I will greet you in a ballroom, Major FitzRoy.”

Lord Devin folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Next year.”

Everything in Joshua refused this notion. He loathed the idea of leaving England without speaking to her father and making his intentions clear. Once they were betrothed, they could correspond. What if her father decided to give her to a lesser man, not knowing of Joshua’s interest?