Free A Rogue of My Own by Johanna Lindsey

dancing. Rebecca waited a few minutes to see if the musical piece the orchestra was playing would soon end, but it didn’t, and she really had no reason to stay, she realized. She wouldn’t be asked to dance because of her costume.
    Feeling a bit forlorn, she made her way slowly to the door. She could stay to listen to the music, at least. The orchestra was the best she’d ever heard. They would have to be exceptionally good, she guessed, to play in the palace.
    “Leaving so soon?”
    For once, Rebecca wasn’t struck speechless by Rupert’s sudden presence as he fell into step beside her. He was just a man, albeit an extremely handsome one. Tall, strapping, oh, God, he was beautiful, a pinnacle of perfection in every way—but just a man nonetheless. His tarnished halo proved that.
    “Yes, as it happens, I am definitely leaving,” she replied tartly. “I feel out of place in this manly costume, which your friend arranged for me to wear.”
    “Nigel?” he asked in surprise.
    “No, I told you, I don’t know who that is.”
    “Then which friend are you displeased with?”
    “Elizabeth Marly.”
    “Ah, yes, little Beth. A delightfully artificial chit. She has no knack for duplicity. Quite easy to figure out. You on the other hand…”
    He didn’t finish. He took her hand and led her to the middle of the ballroom. He was going to dance with her? Indeed, he kept her hand in his, put his other hand on her waist, and began to twirl them along to the exuberant melody of the current waltz.
    How daring of him! Or did he forget she was wearing breeches? No, she had just mentioned her costume to him, so apparently he didn’t care.
    “Much better,” he said as he glanced at the other couples who were watching them. “It is my bane to be gossiped about. But a dance is irrelevant and can occur for any number of reasons that have nothing to do with choice.”
    It took her only a moment to grasp his meaning. “So walking with me is a matter of your choice, since I certainly wasn’t dragging you along with a chain to keep you at my side. But dancing can be no more than satisfying the demands of proper etiquette.”
    “Precisely! I knew you were smart as a whip, m’dear.”
    She wasn’t sure if she should be wary of that compliment. It could imply he hadn’t believed a word of her earlier excuse, and come to think of it, the warning he’d given her before she’d flown out the door of Nigel’s room said as much. Yet he’d let her go. Why?
    She wasn’t going to ask, though. She could be attributingmore intelligence to him than he possessed. In fact, much of what he’d said to her could be attributed to his being a skirt-chaser. Good God, he wasn’t subtly trying to seduce her, was he?
    “So,” he began.
    He looked down and his eyes met hers now. It was quite disconcerting when he turned his full attention to her like this. And was the hand he had on her waist caressing her there!? He’d placed it under her jacket rather than on top of it, so no one could tell that it wasn’t perfectly still as was proper—except her. Was it her imagination? Or was skirt-chasing so ingrained in him that he found it quite natural to caress a woman—any woman—in his arms?
    Heat spread through her body. She could feel it on her face, though she didn’t think she was blushing. This tarnished Angel was indeed dangerous to her senses!
    He continued, “Am I going to have your mentor breathing down my back? For keeping you from finding that scarf?” he added in a tone that said they both knew she hadn’t been sent to fetch any silly scarf.
    So much for thinking he was on the path of seduction. This was going to be an interrogation! Very well, she was up to the task.
    “No, I lied to her. I said you were short, fat, and dressed in a monk’s robe.”
    She realized immediately that she shouldn’t have said that. It was a confession that Sarah had wanted information about him. It was also a confession that she’d lied to