After the first rousing round, she thanked Rishi for the dance and guzzled a tumbler full of something fizzy and sweet. Sweat poured off her body, but she’d never felt more energized in her life. Breathing great lungfuls of briny ocean air, she dragged Cora to the side and pulled her into an alcove. “Help me get these off,” she said, reaching underneath for the tapes on her petticoats.

Cora’s eyes rounded. “My lady!”

“It’s much too hot and no one here will care.”

“What if one of the guests notices, like the lady over there?” she asked.

“Then she does. Besides, Lady Finley has her hands full at the moment and doesn’t seem to give a whit about propriety. Neither do the others for that matter. Quickly, Cora, I want to dance without sweating to death.” Her maid grinned and released the ties. As Bronwyn shimmied out of the constricting layers, she whipped off her stockings and air kissed her bare calves. Heaven. She could have done with removing the tight corset as well, but no need to tempt fate. “Loosen the laces if you can.”

Lastly, she pulled the butterfly-and-lily-tipped hairpins from her hair. Laughing with relief, she rejoined the line of dancers, mimicking Rawley’s quick footwork in the country dance and letting the joyous music flow through her body. There were no rules, no expectations, no marriage noose hanging over her neck.

She let that bliss take her far away from reality.

***

Lady Bronwyn Chase was the most glorious thing he had ever seen.

Though she hardly resembled the lady from the ballroom downstairs at the moment. Hair brazenly down, the glossy brown waves skimming rosy shoulders and her flushed bosom with each jubilant bounce, hips swaying like a seasoned dancer, and her face—God, her face—wore an expression of such pleasure and delight it was breathtaking. This wasn’t anything like the silly chit from before who simpered and preened. This was a mythical creature in her domain.

Valentine had never seen anything like it.

Like her.

Mesmerized, he barely took notice of the others on the crowded deck, though he had marked most of the people, both passengers and crew, in his memory over the past days. Upon boarding, he had toured the entire ship, cataloging the faces. It was part of his process—always good to know who was in his space at all times. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the dancing goddess in a blue dress to the man who whirled her in a giddy circle and blinked in utter disbelief.

What the hell?