Well-mannered ladies did not stand still while they were accosted by a soldier. She could only imagine what her mother would say. But she had never been touched by a man like this, and the sensation was a secret thrill.

The lieutenant’s fingers slipped beneath the chain of her necklace, teasing her neck before winding into the strands of her coiffeur. “You’re right.”

His fingers were melting her resistance, making her feel alive. She was beginning to understand how a woman might cast off propriety, surrendering to a stranger’s seduction.

“My apologies. You were too much temptation to resist.”

Her fingers clenched at her sides. “Sir, keep your hands to yourself. Or you’ll answer to my brother.”

“I’ll try.”

Then she felt the lightest brush of his mouth upon her nape, a kiss he shouldn’t have stolen. Wicked heat poured through her, and she gasped at the sensation.

Hannah whirled around, prepared to chastise him. But he’d already gone. She stared out at the gardens, but there was not a trace that he’d been there. Only the gooseflesh on her arms and the storm of churning fire upon her skin.

“Why are you out here alone, Hannah?” The Marquess of Rothburne approached, having finished his conversation with her brothers. Her father frowned at her, as though she’d transgressed by avoiding a chaperone.

She prayed he didn’t see her flushed cheeks or suspect the improper thoughts racing through her head. “I would like permission to retire,” she said calmly. “It’s been a long evening. My head hurts, and I need to lie down.”

“Do you want me to send your maid with laudanum?” he asked, becoming concerned.

Hannah shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s going to be one of those headaches. But if you please, Papa, I’m very tired.”

Her father offered his arm. “Walk with me for a few minutes, if you will.”

Hannah was hesitant, but she suspected her father had something else to discuss with her. He led her outside the terrace and down the gravel walkway toward her mother’s rose garden. The canes held hints of new growth, though it would be early summer before the first blooms came. She raised her eyes to look out at the glittering stars, wishing she had brought a shawl.

Her skin was still sensitive from the lieutenant’s touch, her mind in turmoil. He’d awakened a restless side to her, and she didn’t like it. Even while she walked, the shifting of her legs sent an uneasy ache within her body.

What had he done to her? And did that make her a wanton for enjoying his fleeting touch?