Why did she continually think of the man? Every gent she’d met seemed paltry beside him. Not only physically but also by the manner in which they projected themselves. He would have been impossible to ignore descending the stairs. If he were on the dance floor at that very moment, he’d be drawing her gaze. She seemed unable to rid herself of thoughts of him. She was here to meet a lord, to become part of the aristocracy. “Are there any for whom you have a high opinion? Anyone in particular you think might make a good husband?” Who might come to love me? Who would give me no reason to regret giving him my hand in marriage? Who would go to penny gaffs with me or enjoy a night of street entertainments?

“You should pose that question to Aiden. He knows the ones who are in debt. You would no doubt be wise to avoid those fellows.”

It was the same tone he’d used when he’d caught her sharing the rock candy that he’d brought her from Brighton with a lad five years older than she. “You don’t want to settle for a lad around here.” She was all of six at the time and the thought of “settling” with anyone had yet to enter her mind—until he put it there.

“But what if I like one of those fellows? Do I ignore my heart’s longings?”

“The heart is not always wise. Follow it with caution.”

“You’re such an expert on love.” The words were sharp and to the point.

A corner of his mouth curled up. “Have you met my wife?”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed lightly. “I think you just got lucky there.”

“I was indeed fortunate. I want you to be even more so.”

The music drifted into silence. Easing out of his hold, she patted his arm. “I am going to make a remarkably good match and know so much happiness that you’ll grow sick of me boasting about it.”

Aiden Trewlove adored vice and sin. He had a gaming hell known as the Cerberus Club as well as the Elysium Club that catered to fulfilling women’s fantasies. For many ladies, one of those fantasies was not being a wallflower. He’d never attended a formal ball before tonight but watching as no gentleman asked his sister for the honor of a dance, he finally understood why women flocked to the ballroom at his establishment. Within those walls, they were guaranteed a dance.

Oh, Fancy had danced. But every gentleman who had taken her upon the floor was related to her in some way. Mick and Finn were her brothers through their mum. Thorne was related to her through Gillie. Lord Kipwick through Aslyn. Lord Collinsworth through Lavinia. Lord Camberley through Selena. But none of the other gents had gone near her, bugger ’em all.

“You’re scowling quite fiercely.”