And that incredible kiss. She had still been cold, standing there in the entryway. He had warmed her completely. She had still been slightly trembling from it. She had trembled even more from his kiss.

She had never experienced anything even remotely like it. She had left Portsmouth without ever having had any real interest in any young man; thus she’d never let one kiss her. And she had spent her first year in London pouting, which didn’t include any socializing, nor was much done in the last two years, other than with her father’s business associates.

She had never realized how lacking she was in social congress with young men she might like, let alone be seriously attracted to, as she was to the baron. She had been promised a Season that would most likely find her a husband, and had been perfectly content to wait for it.

She was in no hurry, after all, to leave her family, who were still in need of her. But her father had expected her to marry soon, now that she was of age to do so. Her brother did, too. She had been resigned to it herself, even slightly looking forward to it finally, when the trouble started with her father’s business. And now—she was resigned to not having a Season after all.

He cared about her.

She was still having trouble grasping the implications of that, other than that the thought thrilled her. She wasn’t quite naive, though, about what he’d meant by not being able to keep his hands off of her, nor about what would likely happen if she did unlock her door tonight.

Her father had found her alone with a young man the year before they’d moved to London. It wasn’t what he’d imagined; the fellow was the brother of one of her good friends, and she’d been talking to him about his current romantic interest, who happened to be another of her friends.

But her father had felt compelled to explain to her about men’s unruly desires, a most embarrassing conversation for them both, but most enlightening, too, about things she could only have guessed at before.

The baron cared about her and he desired her. His remarks had cleared that up for her, where before she never would have believed either of him—which was one reason for her prior confusion. She simply hadn’t believed he was interested in her that way—nothing he had said supported it—so the heat she’d seen in his eyes couldn’t have been from passion. But it was. She didn’t doubt it now. And it had been there almost from the beginning.