Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,15

together as he noticed the wig on the other woman as well. It was probably Miss Wilson’s sister, the Duchess of Wentworth.

At that precise instant, the single heiress glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes locked and held, and recognition occurred. She stared at him for a few seconds, then faced front again.

Seger shook his head. What the devil were they doing here? It was a well-known fact that American heiresses were bombarding London in a mad dash for husbands with titles. Why would she come here to look for one and risk her reputation? Did she not realize that skirting a scandal last time had been a complete miracle? The duchess should have known better.

Or perhaps that’s why the single heiress was here in the first place. To stir up a scandal and force someone’s hand.

Well, it wouldn’t be his hand. He had spent the past eight years learning how to guard himself against that sort of thing.

Unfortunately for her, however, it probably wouldn’t force anyone else’s hand either. Most of the gentlemen here were not in possession of a great deal of honor when it came to young ladies and scandals. They would simply watch from the shadows as she danced in her noose. Besides that, most of them were already married.

Just then, in his peripheral vision, Seger noticed an older man making his way toward Miss Wilson. It was not surprising. Even in that ridiculous wig, she was stunning. It was only a matter of time before every other man in the room would want to experience her delights, for she was a rare contradiction. She had the look of a professional beauty, yet with such innocence. And those lips were enough to bring any man to his knees.

The man bowed before Miss Wilson and held out his ungloved hand.

Seger tensed as he watched.

Miss Wilson politely refused the gentleman’s advance. He nodded courteously and backed away. Seger exhaled a breath of relief. She was lucky that time, but how long would her luck hold?

Seger downed the rest of his champagne in a single gulp and set the glass on a table. He hadn’t come there to play hero, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. He would dance with her once and do what he could to talk some sense into her. Then he could at least say he tried.

He approached the ladies and bowed slightly. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” they both replied simultaneously.

He offered his hand to the heiress. “Shall we?”

Clara gazed up at her dream lover in a shock-induced stupor. She hadn’t expected him to approach her after he’d been the one to march her back to Mrs. Gunther the first time they’d met. She was surprised he hadn’t turned and run in the opposite direction when he’d recognized her a moment ago.

But who was she to refuse such a gift? All that mattered was that he was there, and she was going to dance with him.

She placed her gloved hand in his. He led her onto the floor and stepped into a slow waltz. They danced for a moment or two before he finally spoke.

“Miss Wilson, isn’t it?”

Smothering her surprise at his candor, she looked him in the eye. “Yes. It appears you’ve been reading the papers.”

“I have indeed,” he replied. “You’re quite the sensation.”

She raised her chin. “That was not my intention. The London press is very aggressive.”

He inclined his head. “Yes. Which makes me wonder why you took such a risk coming back here tonight. I thought I made myself clear last time. I warned you about the dangers of a place like this for a woman like you. Did you not understand my meaning?”

“I did.”

“Then why have you returned?”

Clara rummaged around her brain for an answer when she didn’t want to be giving answers. She wanted to be the one asking the questions.

“It seems, sir, that you know all about me, yet I know nothing about you. That’s hardly fair, is it?”

She barely recognized the bravado in her voice, the deep, seductive timbre. Perhaps it was something in the air. The whole room reeked of pure, unhampered sexuality.

“There are rules here,” he replied. “Identities are to be kept secret.”

“But you broke the rule when you revealed that you knew my name.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a sly grin. “You’re not going to report me, are you?”

“Good gracious, no. Not unless you want me to.”

He chuckled. “I think not. Only because it would put you in the spotlight more than me,