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passionate Sophie Crandle for himself. He would have to find some other heiress to marry.
    His decision made, he donned his mask again and returned to the ballroom. He had intended to bide his time, to keep an eye on Sophie until he could fill in the missing details about her current situation. That changed, however, when he saw Henry approach her. He was forced to watch while she laughed at something he said as he led her into a quadrille.
    He was struck with the irrational urge to drag Henry away from her and smash his hand into his smug, smiling face. Instead, he made his way to where the musicians were set up at the far end of the room to have a brief word with the conductor. Several matrons tried to capture his attention when he was done, but he sidestepped them all. His attention remained fixed on Henry and Sophie as they moved through the patterns of the dance.
    She was taller than most of the women there. Her hair was a rich black and her dress a deep blue—both emphasised her ivory skin, a fair bit of which was showing. It was impossible to forget the way she’d looked when he’d pulled down that dress and bared her pale breasts.
    After what seemed like an eternity, the dance finished and he moved to intercept them before Henry could return Sophie to her aunt. He ignored his brother’s obvious displeasure and directed his attention to Sophie.
    “I neglected to tell you how lovely you look tonight, Miss Crandle,” he said as he bowed over her hand, pleased at the blush that rose to her cheeks. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?”
    The opening notes of the waltz he had paid the conductor to play had started and he didn’t wait for her response before tucking her hand into his arm and leading her out. He said nothing when she glanced back at Henry, but the tell-tale sign that she worried about his brother’s reaction irritated him.
    He knew they were being watched, but he ignored everyone else. It wouldn’t be the first time society had whispered about him.
    “This is most improper,” Sophie said. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” Despite her protest, she stepped into his arms.
    “As Henry’s brother, everyone will assume he introduced us.”
    “I hope so.”
    They danced in silence, their movements fluid and perfectly matched. After the intimacy they had already shared, being so close to Sophie wreaked havoc on his senses. He longed to pull her close to him, but somehow managed to maintain a respectable distance. That didn’t stop him from remembering how she’d felt pressed against his body. How she’d writhed against him and moaned when he’d touched her, as he longed to now. And her scent—the slight trace of lavender mixed with something else he couldn’t identify—almost drove him mad with desire. It was all he could do not to lead her through the doors that would take them out to the gardens so they could continue where they had left off.
    He could almost feel Henry’s eyes boring into his back, and knew there would be no way to accomplish that goal. He could be patient, however. Not for long, but he knew Sophie would be worth the wait.
    “Thank you,” she said finally, breaking the silence.
    “It is always a pleasure to dance with a beautiful woman,” he said, unable to stop himself from drawing her an inch closer.
    She sucked in her breath, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her beautiful breasts rose above the edge of her bodice.
    “No, not for the dance. Thank you for not telling Henry about what happened outside. I hope we can forget our misunderstanding and begin anew from this moment.”
    He twirled her around quickly, and missing a step she stumbled towards him.
    “You’re not getting away that easily,” he said, his mouth not far from her ear.
    He felt a surge of satisfaction when he saw a shiver of awareness go through her. She recovered her balance and drew away from him, but he could see the heat that coloured her cheeks. That’s right,