"Oh, hello, my lord." She smiled up at him. "I was hoping you would arrive soon. It is all so exciting, is it not? I am having the most wonderful time. I was just speaking to…" She paused, glanced from side to side with her quizzing glass, and realized Ashbrook had not followed her back into the ballroom. "Never mind. Goodness, you look spectacular, Simon."

Blade, dressed in his elegantly severe evening clothes, gazed thoughtfully over her head into the garden for a few seconds. Then he looked down at Emily.

"I am glad to hear you are enjoying yourself, my dear. Will you honor me with this waltz?"

"Another waltz is to be played? I was under the impression Lady Northcote had only authorized one waltz tonight."

"I prevailed upon her to sanction another so that I could dance it with you." Simon led her out onto the floor.

"Simon, how wonderful of you," Emily breathed, thoroughly enchanted by the gesture.

"I was rather pleased with the notion myself." He swept her into the gracious pattern of the dance. "And Lady Northcote was, shall we say, cooperative."

All thoughts of The Mysterious Lady and her plans to join Ashbrook's literary circle flew out of Emily's head. She was dancing the waltz with her beloved dragon. Nothing could be more perfect.

Simon glided coolly around the room, aware that the eyes of the ton were upon him and his new bride. By tomorrow morning Emily would be the talk of the town. He and Emily made a compelling contrast on the dance floor and Simon knew it. The fact suited him.

What did not suit him was the flash of searing jealousy he had experienced when he had witnessed Emily returning from the garden with Ashbrook directly behind her.

Chapter 12

"I adore your house, Simon," Emily declared as she waltzed alone around the red, gold, green, and black library. As she whirled past each of the jeweled dragons, she reached out to affectionately pat the savage heads. The dark green skirts of her gown floated around her slippered feet.

The ball had ended an hour ago and it had taken almost that long to collect their carriage and get home through the crowded streets but Emily could not seem to stop dancing. She felt giddy and effervescent and transcendently alive. She hummed the strains of the waltz she had danced earlier with Simon. "And I especially adore this room," she continued with a definite little nod. "It is quite perfect, exactly how I had imagined it would be. Exotic and luscious and full of strange and mysterious objects." She patted a black and gold dragon as she waltzed past the fireplace.

"I am not surprised. I had a feeling you would like it." Simon poured two glasses of brandy and held one out to her.

"That only shows how well attuned we are." She took the glass from his hand as she danced past. "You see, Simon? I keep telling you that we communicate—"

"On a higher plane," he finished for her. "Yes, my dear. I have heard you comment on that fact often enough." He raised his glass in a small salute. "To you, madam wife. You were a great success tonight."

"Thanks to Lady Merryweather." Emily giggled and waltzed away toward the far end of the room. "And Lady Northcote. She was so kind. She and Celeste introduced me to absolutely everyone and I danced nearly every dance, Simon. Two of them waltzes."

"Araminta told me the first one was with Ashbrook."

Emily shot him a quick, sidelong glance as she flitted past one of the huge satin pillows. She wondered if Simon knew that it was Ashbrook she had run away with five years ago. And if he did know, would he be jealous? she asked herself. Not bloody likely. Simon was much too self-controlled and sure of himself to be jealous. Besides, he knew he had her heart.

"Yes. Ashbrook invited me out on the floor for the first waltz. Simon, I think I should tell you something about him."

"What would that be?" Simon watched her intently over the rim of his glass.

Emily came to a halt in front of a delicate Chinese painting featuring plump horses and strangely clad warriors. She studied it closely through her spectacles. "Richard was the man I thought I loved five years ago—the one I ran off with."

"But you did not run off with anyone five years ago," Simon stated quietly. "I thought I explained to you that for all intents and purposes, there is no Unfortunate Incident in your past."

Emily swung around in surprise. "But, Simon… Oh, I see," she said, suddenly understanding and appreciating what he was doing. "This is part of your scheme to introduce me successfully to Society, is it not? We shall deal boldly with the problem of the scandal. We shall simply deny it ever happened."

"Precisely."

"A brilliant approach." She scowled thoughtfully. "But what if Richard says something about it?"

"I do not think he will do that."

Emily nodded, considering the matter. "You are probably right. I imagine it would be embarrassing for him."

Simon's mouth kicked up wryly at the corner and his golden eyes gleamed. "Somewhat more than a little embarrassing, I think. Rather dangerous, in fact."

"Yes, he has his own reputation to consider."

"Among other things."

Emily nodded again and resumed waltzing. She slid Simon another speculative glance. "I do not suppose you are jealous of Lord Ashbrook, by any chance, are you?"

"Because of the nonexistent Unfortunate Incident or because he waltzed with you tonight?"

"Either one," Emily said eagerly. Her heart leapt at the possibility.

"Should I be jealous?" Simon's voice was utterly emotionless.

"No, not for a single second," Emily assured him grandly. "I made a very foolish mistake five years ago. The truth is, I realized almost immediately after we left Little Dippington that I did not really want to marry Richard. It was all very exciting dashing off to the border like that and Richard kept quoting the most beautiful poetry. But I was soon obliged to face the fact that I did not love him. I could not possibly have married him."

"And the waltz tonight? Did you discover any new feelings toward him when he took you in his arms?"

"No." Emily tilted her head, thinking about her reactions. "No, not at all. It was rather like meeting an old acquaintance whom one has not seen for some time."

She decided then and there that she did not want to tell Simon about Ashbrook's generous offer to take a look at her manuscript. Not yet, at any rate. After all, nothing was certain. Ashbrook might declare The Mysterious Lady completely unpublishable. It would be humiliating enough just having Ashbrook know it was unsuitable. "I see. Like meeting an old acquaintance."

"Yes. Precisely." Emily hummed a few more measures of the waltz. "Do you know, Simon, it is very strange, but I do not seem to be able to calm myself tonight. I am still very excited."

"You should be exhausted." Simon leaned back against his black lacquered desk. He had already taken off his jacket and unknotted his cravat. The length of white silk hung loose around his throat.

"I know, but I am not the least bit tired." Emily took a sip of brandy. Her gaze fell on the nearest of the large, tasseled pillows. "Simon, tell me, did you get these pillows from some Turkish harem?"

"No. I had them made up here in London, as it happens." He sipped his brandy. "Do you fancy them?"

"They are marvelous." Emily put down her glass and threw herself full length onto the nearest gold satin pillow. She lounged back in what she thought was the sort of languid, sensuous position that a harem lady might adopt. "How do I look? Could I pass for a sultry Eastern courtesan?"

Simon's eyes moved slowly from the tip of her dragon-embroidered emerald satin slipper to the cascade of red curls at the top of her head. "Perhaps," he finally allowed.