The music summoned us back to the Paul Jones. The men and women circled each other again until I found myself opposite Earl. He was about to put his arm around my waist when Darcy stepped in rapidly. “My dance, I think,” he said, and snatched me from under Earl’s astonished nose.

“That’s not quite cricket,” I said. His tight hold on me was quite unnerving.

“Cricket is a very boring game, don’t you think?” he whispered, his lips inches away from mine. “I much prefer other, more energetic sports.” He swept me across the floor in a slow fox trot. “So you’re talking to me again now, are you?”

“I forgot.” I turned my head away.

He was holding me very close. I could feel the beat of his heart against mine and the warmth of him against my cheek.

“Are you going to stay angry at me forever?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Did you tell Conchita that I was your girlfriend?”

“Well, I had to say something. She was all over me.”

“So I was just an excuse again. I seem to be part of your life when it’s convenient.” I tried to lean away from him but his hand on the middle of my back was unrelenting. And he was laughing. “So you’ve decided that your hairy cousin is a better catch?”

“He may be.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re too damned sensitive, you know.”

“Sensitive? I like that. You come and go as you please. You tell me—” I broke off. Had he ever actually told me he loved me? I wasn’t sure.

“I can’t be around all the time, Georgie. You should realize that,” he said softly into my ear. His lips were brushing my cheek as he spoke and all the time he was steering me toward the edge of the dance floor. Then he fox-trotted me down the nearest hallway, in which, due to Fig’s economy measures, no lamp was burning.

“There, that’s more like it, isn’t it?” he said. He pulled me to him and his lips searched for mine. I wanted to kiss him but I kept reminding myself why I was angry with him in the first place.

“First I want you to admit that it was you who telephoned that frightful priggish man at Scotland Yard about my embarrassing evening,” I managed to say, turning my face to avoid his lips.

“Oh, God, not now, Georgie. Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“Not until . . .” I said, weakening as his lips were now nuzzling at my ear and continuing down my throat.

“Not now?” he whispered as his lips moved across my chin and brushed my own lips with a feather-light kiss.

“This isn’t fair,” I said.