And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(15)

Daphne nearly stumbled. Whatever was wrong with her?

Then the music struck up, and he took her hand in his, while his other wound possessively around her hip. His touch sent shock waves through her, echoing what she’d suspected moments before. . . . This man could put her in knots of desire and then unravel her tangled senses with his touch.

He held her close, and Daphne should have protested . . . might have . . . but tonight seemed so full of promise and adventure that she allowed herself to forget all that was proper and necessary.

What had Dishforth written?

Have you ever wanted to dance where you may?

Yes, she had. So many times. And now she would.

She tucked up her chin, daring anyone to naysay her, and smiled at her partner as he began to swing her through the first notes.

“You are quite daring, Miss . . .” His words trailed off, as if he was waiting for her to give him the introduction he should have sought before asking her to dance.

“Am I?” She certainly wasn’t going to let this magical moment end with the horrible discovery that this wasn’t her Dishforth. He must be, for whyever else would this particular man have her aquiver?

“Yes, you are quite daring.”

Daphne, who had never had a daring moment in her life—up until a few moments ago—felt her insides light up, as if all the candles in London had been illuminated at once.

The man holding her grinned. “Dancing with a man to whom you have not been formally introduced.” There was no censure in his words, only a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I could be anyone.”

“Hardly.”

His brows rose, and he made a good effort to appear affronted, yet the light in his eyes said something altogether different. “Hardly? Who am I then?”

“A gentleman,” she replied, for certainly there was something very familiar about his features. As if she knew who he was but couldn’t quite place the face.

“How can you be so certain?” He tugged her a little closer. Closer than was proper, for now she was up against his muscled body, intimately so.

Stilling her pounding heart, Daphne tipped up her chin as if to say he wasn’t going to change her mind. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“You don’t know the Seldons very well or you wouldn’t say that,” he teased.

She laughed—for here was someone who shared her opinions. “You cannot hide who you are,” she told him. “Besides, I have the distinct feeling we’ve met.”

“I don’t see how.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would remember meeting you.” His brow furrowed. “Still, I am at a loss as to how we haven’t met.”

Daphne brightened. Here was an opening to start her queries. “I’ve been in London most of the Season,” she told him, in complete agreement and a bit puzzled as to how this could be. All this time in Town, and how had she not noticed this man? “And you?”

“Yes, of course,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, as if the answer was obvious. “I live here in London.”

Check number one in the “he-is-Dishforth” column.

“You live here?” she repeated, just to be certain.

“Yes, quite close, in fact.” He smiled as if he’d made a joke. Though one that ran right over Daphne’s head, for she was too busy putting a check in the “lives-in-Mayfair” column.

Quite honestly, if Daphne hadn’t fallen in love with the man in the first moment she’d spied him, he was certainly doing his best to secure her affections.

A house in Mayfair . . . If ever there was a way to a practical girl’s heart.

Daphne couldn’t help herself. She sighed.

“And you?” he prompted.

“Pardon?” she managed. Apparently this sharing of information was going to be quid pro quo. Unfortunately, Daphne had been too busy giving in to the speculation that if he had a house in Mayfair, a country estate was most certainly assured. . . .

Daphne bit her lips together to keep from grinning. Truly, she shouldn’t be too obvious.

“Do you live in London?” he repeated.

She shook her head. “No.” When he appeared rather crestfallen over this, she added quickly, “As I said before, I came for the Season. I’ve been here since May.”

This brightened his countenance. “And now that the Season is over?”