... And yet, there is a mystery to our Lady G—. One that forces even the staunchest of aristocrats to raise her lorgnette and consider the girl across the room. Is it possible that we have heaped her with false disdain all these years? Only the Season will tell...

... Young ladies of London, heed our call! By all accounts, Lord L— is on the hunt for a wife. His list of desired attributes no doubt includes beauty, good humor, and proficiency with a string instrument. Alas, those who are not exceedingly wealthy need not apply...

Pearls & Pelisses Ladies Magazine, April 1833

He didn't care that she was lying.

Didn't care that she had been protected for years by the most powerful, secretive man in London. Didn't care that a man with that kind of money would not take kindly to anyone touching that which was his.

He didn't care that she was nothing she seemed – that she was somehow neither whore, nor ruined aristocrat, nor innocent.

All he cared was that she was pressed against him in this empty space, all long limbs and soft skin, and, for a fleeting moment, she was his.

The kiss was sin and innocence, like the lady herself – at once all experience and none at all. Her hand came to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into his hair with remarkable purpose while she gasped against his lips as though she'd never been kissed.

Christ.

It was no wonder she was London's most coveted companion. She was red silk and white lace. Two tempting, unbearable sides of one coin. And for this moment, she belonged to him.

But first...

He pulled away barely, giving her a scant inch to breathe as he whispered, "I would have stepped in. Either way."

He hadn't liked her implication that he'd only pummeled Pottle because she was from an aristocratic family. It had grated to think that she would imagine that he'd have left any woman to be mistreated so roundly. But more importantly, it sickened him to think that she believed he'd have left her if circumstances had been different.

He didn't know why it was important to him that she believe him. That she believe he was the kind of man who would fight for a woman. Any woman. Her. But it was important. "I would have stepped in," he repeated.

Her fingers danced at the nape of his neck, playing with the curls there and making him want her with their innocent, teasing promise. "I know," she whispered.

He captured the words with his mouth, stealing her open lips and taking the kiss deeper. Longer. More.

Information or no, arrangement or no, double identity or no, this woman was irresistible. He would never betray her secrets. Not now that he knew she was so much more than she seemed.

He wanted her without quarter.

He caught her by the waist, pulling her closer, pressing one leg into hers, tangling in her skirts, in her scent, in her seduction. And she seduced him just as he did her. He'd never felt so well matched in his life.

She leaned into the kiss, taking as he took, reveling as he reveled. And the sounds she made – the little sighs and gasps and pants – she was glorious.

He lifted her in his arms and turned her, walking her to the opposite wall of the alcove as his lips trailed across her cheek and captured the lobe of one ear. "You've wanted this for years," he whispered, teeth worrying the soft flesh as her fingers spread across his shoulders.

"No," she said. And in the lie, he heard such truth.

He grinned against the skin of her neck, running his teeth down the glorious column. "You think I haven't seen you? Haven't felt you watching?"

She pulled back from his caress. "If you've noticed, why haven't you come for me?"

He watched her for a long moment, staring into those eyes the color of liquid gold. "I'm coming for you now," he said as he leaned in and bit her lower lip, pulling her toward him, reveling in the low, lush laugh that erupted from her.

He chased the sound down the column of her neck to the place where it vibrated in her throat, worrying the spot with his teeth. She sighed at the sensation and he wanted to roar his satisfaction. His pleasure. Her lips curved, and he ached for them. Reached for them.

She pulled back. "You didn't want me until now. Until you discovered I'm her, too."

He stilled at the words. "Her."

"Georgiana."

The way she spoke of herself in the third person called to him. He turned her to the light, to see her. "Georgiana is other?" She closed her eyes briefly, considering her answer, and he changed the question. "You must think on the answer?"

"Mustn't we all?" she asked, the words soft and thoughtful. "Aren't we all two people? Three? A dozen? Different with family and friends and lovers and strangers and children? Different with men? With women?"

"It's not the same," he insisted. "I don't play at being two people."

"It is not play," she replied. "I do not revel in the game of it."

"Of course you do," he said, and she was again struck by how well he saw what few others did. "You adore it. I've seen you here, holding court over the floor of the club, as though you own it. Beautiful. Perfectly turned out..." He let his fingers trail over the edge of her gown, loving the way her breasts swelled as she inhaled at the touch. "... and that laugh, rich and welcome.

"I've seen you entertain and entice, hang on the arm of the Angel's wealthiest patrons while somehow giving those down on their luck the idea that they might one day bask in the glow of your attention."

She lifted her chin, acting out his words. "You have my attention now, sir."

"Don't. Not with me. Why do it, if not for the pleasure of the masque?"

Something flashed in her gaze at the question, there, then gone. "Survival."

Duncan had lied enough in his life to recognize the truth in another. It was what made him such a tremendous newspaperman. "What are you afraid of?"

She laughed at that, but the sound lacked humor. "Spoken like a man with no fear of ruin."

If she only knew the fear he had in the dead of night. The way he woke every morning, afraid that today would be the day of his ruin. He pushed the thoughts aside. "Then why do it?" he asked, "Why assume the role of Anna? Why not simply live life as Georgiana? Isn't Anna the role that threatens to destroy you thoroughly?"

She shook her head. "You don't understand."

"I don't. You worry that you cannot marry a high enough title to render your daughter's reputation clean, and still you don your wicked silks and paint your face and run the lightskirt brigade at London's most renowned casino."

"You think it idiocy."

"I think it reckless."

"You think I am selfish."

"No." He was not a fool.

"What then?"

He did not hesitate. "I think there is no profession in the wide world that a woman would be less likely to choose than yours."

She smiled at that, and he was surprised at the honesty in the expression, as though she knew something that he did not know. And perhaps she did. "There, Mr. West," she said, all feminine wile, "you are wrong."

"So what is it?" he asked, now desperate for the answer. "Why do it? Is it his power? You like being the exclusive property of the elusive Chase, who strikes fear into the hearts of men Britain-wide?"

"Chase is part of it, certainly."

He hated the truth in the words. Couldn't stop himself from saying, "He is that good of a lover, is he?"

She was quiet for a moment, and he cursed himself for the question. Even more so when she said, "What if I told you that my relationship with Chase had nothing to do with sex?"

Sex. The word curved over her tongue and lips, wrapping around them in the dark alcove, all temptation and promise. God, he wanted to believe her – he hated the image of foreign hands on her, of lips stroking over her most private, precious of places. And for some reason he hated the thought even more without a clear image of the man who claimed her.

"I wouldn't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because any man who has exclusive access to you would not be able to go a day without touching you."

He shocked her. He saw the expression pass, there, then gone so quickly that another, lesser man would not have noticed. Because another man would have been so enthralled with the expression that replaced it – her beautiful mouth curving in utter satisfaction – that he wouldn't have cared to notice the first.

But it was the combination of the two – evidence of somehow innocence and vice – that threaded straight to West's core, spreading desire through him.

He worked to steady his breath when she took a step closer. "Are you saying you would like exclusive access to me?" It was Anna who spoke, the skilled prostitute, all wickedness and vice.

And so he returned it in kind. "I'm a man, am I not?"

Her hands came to his shoulders, running smoothly down the lapels of his coat and inside, over his linen shirt. "Does Chase strike fear into your heart?" she asked quietly, her hand settling over the organ in question. "Is that quaking I feel?"

His heart pounded for this maddening, mysterious creature. He'd never wanted anyone like he wanted her. Even as he knew she was a terrible wager, worse than all the ones he had made on the floor of the casino beyond. Out there, he risked only money.

Here, he risked something much more serious.

"Don't tempt me," he whispered in the darkness, pulling her hands from him.

"Or what?" The question was a lick of fire.

"Or you shall get that for which you ask."

He felt the curve of her smile at his cheek. "'Tis a lovely promise."

He turned his head and caught her lips once more, lifting her against him, adoring the way her arms came around his neck and she pressed herself to him, giving in to him. Allowing him the lead.

He pressed her to the wall, fitting himself between her thighs, cursing her diaphanous silk skirts. He wanted her closer. Open. Hot. Wet.

His.

She signaled her pleasure with a little, lovely sound, and he deepened the kiss, stroking long and soft until she followed his movements with her own. His hand came along her side in a long caress, his thumb finding the swell of her breast at the edge of her gown. Unable to resist the temptation, he slipped his fingers beneath the silk and lifted her breast from its padded confines, running the edge of his thumb over the straining tip.

He lifted his mouth from hers. "I would give anything for more light."

She arched against the caress. "Why?"

"I want to see the color of this gorgeous thing. I want to watch it strain for me." She bit her lip at the words. "Does it ache?"

There was a long moment of silence before she replied, the truth coming on a whisper. "Yes."

He heard something there, in the single, stunning word. Something like embarrassment. There was no room for that here. "Don't be ashamed of what you like." He punctuated the words with a gentle pinch.

"I like that," she said, the words forced from her.

"As do I," he said, his lips coming to the high swell of her breast. "As do I," he repeated just before he let his tongue slide around the straining tip.

She tasted as good as she smelled.

"Anna?"

They both froze, remembering where they were.

He lifted his head. Met her wide eyes.

"Shit." She whispered, and he did not have time to be surprised by the curse. After all, she'd taken the words right from his lips. "It's Temple."

Regret flared. And irritation. He let her down, setting her feet on the ground.

"Don't come in!" Georgiana cried, Anna disappeared.

"A moment, Temple," he said at the same time, unable to tear his gaze from the pretty pale globe of her breast.

"Too late," Temple said, closer than before.

Duncan turned to protect her from view, facing the Duke of Lamont with a calm he did not feel. Later, he would wonder at the squeak that escaped Georgiana's lips, as though she'd never been found in such a situation before. Perhaps it was Temple who caused her embarrassment, but whatever it was, she was furious. "Get out!"

"There was some concern that you'd been manhandled," Temple said calmly. "I see it was not without merit."

"I'm fine," she said. "As you can see."

Temple met his gaze. "West," he said, "You certainly have made yourself comfortable."

Duncan lifted one shoulder. Let it drop. "It's my club."

"Not your woman, though." Duncan had no doubt that Chase would hear of this before the night was through.

"Not yours, either," Georgiana retorted.

Temple looked to her, and Duncan moved to block the other man's view. "Give the lady some privacy."

The Duke of Lamont's eyes widened for a moment. "Shall I turn around?"

"That would suit me well, as I wouldn't like to have to call you out."

"Afraid you'd lose?" The duke was London's winningest bare-knuckle boxer.

"Afraid I'd win," Duncan said. "I'd like to continue to call you a friend when this unfortunate event is through."

Temple nodded once and turned his back on them. "Put away your – bits – Anna."

She exhaled in pure exasperation. "You know, you could take your leave if you are embarrassed, Temple."

"No chance," the duke said, "I'm offering my protection."

"She doesn't need it." And damn it, if she did need it, Duncan could give it to her.

Not that he wanted to.

Liar.

Temple turned just enough to meet Duncan's gaze. "No?"

"No," he said.

"No," she said at the same time, yanking up her bodice, sending a thread of disappointment through Duncan. "You may turn around."

"I'm not offering it to you," the duke said, turning and lifting his chin in Duncan's direction. "I'm offering it to him."

West didn't care for the words. "I am well able to protect myself in this situation."

"You haven't the faintest idea what this situation is," the duke said. Duncan did not like the ominous tone in the words.

"Get out!" Georgiana fairly yelled.

Surprisingly, Temple did as he was bid.

They stood in silence for a long moment, Duncan trying to convince himself that he was grateful for Temple's interruption. Grateful for the fact that the evening had not gone any further.

The woman was too tempting and altogether too dangerous, and it would be best if he stayed away from her. He turned to bid her farewell. "My lady."

"Don't call me that here," she said.

"I shall call you that wherever I like. It is your due, is it not?"

"That's not why you use it."

It wasn't. But he did not admit it. Instead, he said, "Do we have an agreement?"

It took her a moment to follow, and he resisted the pleasure that came at the knowledge that he unsettled her as much as she did him.

"I shall take it to Chase." Her beautiful amber eyes met his. "This can never happen again."

He raised a brow. "There's one way to ensure it doesn't." Her gaze turned questioning. "Get me my information. And I'll get you married."

He turned and left the room. And the club.

Vowing to resist the woman.