“When I think about sex with you there is no worry involved. Eagerness, yes. Anxiety, no.” He closed the small gap between them and bent over her. His voice came as an intimate whisper. “Do not hesitate for that reason. We are young. We can wed and wait, or we can wait and then wed. Even with my ring on your finger, I will not ask you to do anything you do not wish to. Not yet.” His mouth twitched. “In a few years, however, I may not be so accommodating. I must reproduce eventually, and I do find you supremely alluring.”
Amelia tilted her head, considering. Then she nodded.
“Good,” Ware said with obvious satisfaction. “Progress, however incremental, is always good.”
“Perhaps it is time to post the banns.”
“By God, that is more than an incremental move forward!” he cried with exaggerated verve. “We are actually getting somewhere.”
She laughed and he winked mischievously.
“We will be happy together,” he promised.
“I know.”
Ware took a moment to once again secure his mask, and her gaze wandered as she waited. Following the line of the marble railing, she found a profusion of ivy climbing the brick exterior. That visual trail led to another terrace farther down, this one unlit in an obvious gambit to deter guests from lingering away from the ballroom. It appeared, however, that the lack of welcome was too subtle for two attendees, or perhaps they simply did not care to heed it. Regardless, the reason why they were there was not what caught Amelia’s attention. She was more interested in who was there.
Despite the deep shadows that blanketed the second patio, she recognized her phantom follower by the pure white of his mask and the way his garments and hair blended into the night around him.
“My lord,” she murmured, reaching out blindly to clutch Ware’s arm. “Do you see those gentlemen over there?”
She felt his attention turn as she directed.
“Yes.”
“The dark-clad gentleman is the one who held such interest in me earlier.”
The earl looked at her in all seriousness. “You made light of the matter, but now I am concerned. Was this man an annoyance to you?”
“No.” Her gaze narrowed as the two men parted and set off in opposite directions—the phantom away from her, the other man toward her.
“Yet something about him disturbs you.” Ware rearranged her grasping hand to rest upon his forearm. “And his assignation over there is curious.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Despite the years that have passed since you were freed from your father’s care, I feel caution would be wise. When one has an infamous criminal for a relation, every unknown is suspect. We cannot have odd characters following you about.” Ware led her quickly up the steps. “Perhaps you should stay close to me for the remainder of the evening.”
“I have no cause to fear him,” she argued without heat. “I think it is more my reaction to him that surprises me, as opposed to his interest in me.”
“You had a reaction to him?” Ware paused just inside the door and drew her to the side, out of the way of those who entered and exited. “What sort of reaction?”
Amelia lifted her mask to her face. How could she explain that she had admired the man’s powerful frame and presence without lending more weight to the sentiment than it deserved? “I was intrigued. I wished he would approach me and reveal himself.”
“Should I be concerned that another man so quickly captured your imagination?” The earl’s drawling voice was laced with amusement.
“No.” She smiled. The comfort of their friendship was priceless to her. “Just as I do not worry when you take interest in other females.”
“Lord Ware.”
They both turned to face the gentleman who approached, a person whose distinctively short and portly frame made him recognizable despite his mask—Sir Harold Bingham, a Bow Street magistrate.
“Sir Harold,” Ware greeted in return.
“Good evening, Miss Benbridge,” the magistrate said, smiling in his kindly way. He was known for his tough rulings, but was widely considered to be fair and wise.
Amelia quite liked him, and the warmth of her returning pleasantries reflected this.
Ware leaned toward her, lowering his voice for her ears only. “Will you excuse me a moment? I should like to discuss your admirer with him. Perhaps we can learn an identity.”