She set down her tea, handed Reese his jacket, and looked at him earnestly. “One of the reasons I must be especially careful is that I plan to become engaged in a few weeks.”

“Engaged,” he repeated dully.

“Yes,” she continued, matter-of-fact. “To Lord Singleton. We’ve decided to wait till the end of the season to announce it.”

“Singleton,” he mused. “The tall, respectable-looking bloke you danced with at Lady Rufflebum’s ball?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” He stared at the crystal bowl of buttons sitting on the floor between them, and the vigor she’d seen in his face only moments before vanished. “Sophie, if you want to extricate yourself from this deal—from me—I understand. I won’t pretend to be happy about it, but I do understand.”

“No,” she assured him. “I agreed to help you, and I want to, if I can.”

“You already have, just by being here.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll promise to stay with you every Friday night until my engagement is announced, if you’ll agree to one more rule. One that may seem rather … odd.”

He gave her an encouraging nod. “Anything you want.”

“Rule number three,” she said softly. “We mustn’t touch each other.”

He shook his head as though confused. “I’d never touch you,” he said gruffly. “Unless … unless you wanted me to.”

“I know,” she said evenly. “But the rule is absolute. No touching. Even if you want to. Even if I want to. And especially if we both want to.”

He scrubbed his palms over his face. “I’ve got it,” he said soberly. “No touching.”

“Not even contact that could be considered innocent or incidental.” She needed a clear, firm line. The Debutante’s Revenge had explained how easy it was to succumb to desire. And it would be far easier to resist if she abstained altogether.

Reese gazed at her, his eyes unexpectedly hot. “You have my word.”

“Excellent,” she managed, as she stood and stretched the stiffness from her limbs. “We have a deal.”

“I would offer to shake on it,” he said, arching a brow, “but…”

“Your word is good enough for me, Reese. I’m trusting you.” That much was true.

The person she didn’t trust was herself. She was counting on rule number three to keep her feet on level ground and prevent her from tumbling headfirst over a perilous cliff.

And she hoped it would be enough.

Chapter 8

The members of the Debutante Underground approved wholeheartedly of the tailor’s shop as a meeting place, nodding and exclaiming over the large, open room as they filed in and took their seats the following Friday. Compared to the cozy but cramped back room of Madam Laurent’s dress shop, the tailor’s felt like a palace. The women took advantage of the empty space at one end of the room, using it to stretch their legs and mingle.