A Wicked Liaison. Christine Merrill

with them before the meal ended and she had to gather her wits and return to the dance floor.

      When she reached the ballroom, she took care to get lost in the crowd and separated from her host. The next dance was a waltz, far more intimate than she liked, if she should have to dance with Barton. If she could find another partner quickly, it would be several minutes before she need speak with him again. She searched the room. Quickly, someone. Anyone.

      ‘Your Grace, may I have this dance?’

      She’d said yes to the man before even turning to face him. And when she looked up, it was into the smiling eyes of Mr Smythe.

      He saw her discomposure and said nothing, taking her hand and leading her out on to the floor.

      As the music began, any doubt that he was the man from her bedroom disappeared. He held her as he had held her that night, in a grasp that managed to be both relaxed and intimate. It felt good to be in his arms again, and to be able to admire him in the candlelight.