On her calf, his fingers flexed as though she’d struck him a blow. “I don’t talk of my sire. Ever.”

So it was true. Noble blood ran through his veins, which worked well with her plans. “And I will not discuss my place in or out of Society,” she said tartly. “So it seems regarding that aspect of our lives, we are of a like mind.”

As he once more leaned back, his fingers returned to their trailing, going a tad higher with each stroke, growing dangerously close to her knee. So inappropriate and yet she sensed perhaps he was testing her, daring her to object. Or maybe he simply liked the feel of a woman’s leg.

“If I were to extinguish the candles on either side of you, enshrouded you in darkness, you could remove your mask.”

“Darkness is never absolute. Within this room, the mask remains. Besides, you’d be amazed by how observant some ladies are.”

He studied her for the longest and then began working on the buttons of her shoes.

“I said they were to remain on.” She would have kicked free if he hadn’t closed one hand around her leg, just above her ankle, the moment she began to speak.

“You’ll be more comfortable with them off. My floors are clean.”

He glanced at her through half-lowered lids, just as he’d looked at the gathered nobility in the church, and she had an unreasonable desire for him not to find her lacking, not to think her a coward.

“When was the last time you went barefoot?”

Strange that she should recall it. “I was nine, and there was a field of clover that I simply couldn’t resist.” It had felt like running over velvet. She shook her head. “My governess had a time of it, keeping shoes on my feet.”

But that day her mother had given her a blistering scolding, convincing her that she was too old for such nonsense. She’d kept her shoes on ever since. Disappointing her parents, disappointing anyone actually, had always made her feel rotten.

She sipped the last of the wine, finishing off the glass, and there was the footman offering her another. She took it, peered over at the man who seemed comfortable in spite of his awkward position, his feet remaining on the floor, and she wondered how he might react if she ordered him to place them on the ottoman, so she could remove his boots. Obviously the wine was having an effect on her, bolstering her courage. Although not completely. She gave a slight nod, and his fingers immediately returned to their endeavor.

When he’d removed her shoes, he handed them off to another footman who suddenly appeared. She assumed he’d somehow alerted the servant that he was needed although she’d seen no signal. “Give them to Angie, to be placed under my name.”

“Yes, sir.”