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around her and drew her close. He said nothing. What could he say? Attending the opera with a bachelor, let alone such a one as Filey, was not the sort of thing a respectable young female would do. Had she not already told him she was an earl ’ s daughter, and had he not already fallen more than halfway in love with her, Derek would have doubted her virtue.
    Cynthia was shaking again, and seemed inclined to burrow into his warmth for comfort. “I did not come here alone with him, ” she said into his shoulder. “I t ’ s not as bad as that. My mother is here as well. ”
    Relief flooded him. “T hen I shall restore you to your mother, ” he said firmly. “N ot to Filey. ”
    “Y ou don ’ t understand. ” She gave a mournful little sigh. “B ut how could you? I haven ’ t told you all. ” She sat up and faced him, her expression woebegone. “M y mother and I are here tonight as Sir James ’ s guests. He is… he is her favorite of all my suitors. I see you find that incredible, but it ’ s true. She was so pleased when he invited us. ” Another shiver went through her. “S he will be very angry with me. ”
    Derek frowned. “F or going off alone with him? ”
    Cynthia shook her head. “N o. For running from him. ” Distress was in every line of her tense, quivering body. “B ut I couldn ’ t help it, ” she whispered. She gazed helplessly up into Derek ’ s eyes. “H e wasn ’ t you. ”
    Emotion closed over Derek ’ s heart like a fist and squeezed. He felt his chest tighten. Their eyes had locked again, and again he felt the undeniable tug of their connection.
    But a question had evidently occurred to Cynthia . Her delicate brows knit in puzzlement. “D erek, how do you know Sir James? For it is obvious that you do. ”
    He gave a short laugh. “A ll the world knows Sir James Filey. ”
    Her puzzlement seemed to deepen. “B ut he did not know you. ”
    “O h, there ’ s nothing odd in that. Nobody knows me. ” He grinned, but felt his grin slip a bit. For the first time, his anonymous state struck Derek as a handicap. Whoever this girl was — and she had mentioned “ suitors, ” plural — she was unlikely to bestow her affections on a nobody. Miss Fitzwilliam was plainly somebody.
    My father is the Earl of Ballymere, you know. Hell and the devil confound it. She wasn ’ t Miss Fitzwilliam. Earl ’ s daughters bore a title. She was Lady Cynthia . A small thing, perhaps, but it seemed to place her even further out of reach. Damn, damn, damn.
    She must have seen the shadow cross his face. “W hat ’ s amiss? ” she whispered. Anxiety filled her eyes.
    He was trying to form an answer when a strange roaring suddenly swelled in the air around them, echoing faintly in the halls above. Derek was so lost to his surroundings that, for a fraction of a second, he failed to recognize it. T hen it hit him: it was applause. Off in the forgotten world where his duties awaited him, the interval had arrived. If he did not hasten back to Lord Stokesdown ’ s box, his absence would be noticed.
    “G ood Gad! ” he exclaimed. He leaped to his feet, pulling Cynthia peremptorily up with him.
    “W hat — what —” she stammered.
    “S orry! I lost track of time. It ’ s the interval, dear girl. Everyone will be leaving their boxes and milling about. ”
    “O h, heavens. ” She paled. “W hat will we do? ”
    “J oin them, I think, and pretend we ’ ve been milling about, too. ” Still, for a moment he cupped her face in his hands, loath to let her go. “I cannot stay with you, ” he said reluctantly. “I wish I could. Cynthia , what do you want of me? Shall I take you back to your mother? Or is there somewhere else you might go? I will gladly escort you to a friend — an aunt —”
    “N o. There is no one. No one who is here tonight, at any rate. ” She gave him a shaky smile. “Y ou may take me back to my mother and Sir James. After all, I must face them again sometime. ”
    He