“I am flattered, Morgan,” she said, after a moment. “And not displeased. If you feel we have made a promising start, and would like to see me again, then arrangements can be made. Through my parents, of course.”

He started to give Maris the answer she was expecting, then stopped. Of a sudden he felt crowded. Manipulated. From the corner of his eye he could see Venette, watching them, an almost smugly satisfied look on her face.

“Maris—”

“The decision’s not entirely yours, you know,” she said sharply. “It’s not enough that you find me acceptable. I must be sure about you as well. But if you’re already convinced that we could never suit, then this was an amusing diversion and nothing more.”

Her self-possession was attractive. Women who clung and simpered annoyed him. “I would not make any important decision based upon one dance and a little banter. If I said the prospect of another encounter was not unpleasant, would that please you?”

Maris’s eyes warmed. “How could it not?”

He couldn’t deny it felt good to be desired. A long time had passed since he’d held a woman so close, breathed in her scent, seen attraction in her eyes.

All the more reason to tread with care.

He shifted backwards, just slightly. “It is only fair to caution you, though, Maris. My father, Lord Danfey, is not well. In doing my duty to him I have been forced to set aside important Council matters, which must now be addressed.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “And I would not presume to make demands. Shall we agree that we might fall once more into company some time within the next week or two?”

He kissed her hand again. “That sounds most agreeable. I look forward to getting to know you better, Maris, as soon as my duties permit. Now, alas, I must depart.”

She curtsied. He bowed. Then he watched her retreat to the ballroom’s elegant sideboard of refreshments.

“Well?” said Venette, as he joined her. “Did I not say you’d be well entertained?” She smoothed his sleeve. “Shall you be seeing Maris again?”

Remembering that smug look, he decided to punish her a little. “Perhaps.”

She pouted, knowing full well what he was doing. “I give you fair warning, Morgan. The Garricks and I are friends. So don’t dally with the girl. If you find your heart’s engaged, or even if you think it might be, well and good. But if you think to wed her falsely, then I shall be most unamused.”

As if he would, knowing how poorly Luzena would count him for trifling with an innocent, no matter how saucy she might play herself.

“And I consider myself warned,” he said, with a pretended lightness. “Thank you for tonight, Venette. Though it pains me to admit it, you weren’t wrong. I did need a light-hearted evening.”