Free Dancing with a Rogue by Patricia; Potter

hands shook as he tied Stanhope’s cravat into the fashionable orientale style that was damnably uncomfortable. Then Ames helped him pull on his highly polished Hessian boots.
    â€œDo the cravat again,” he demanded. “It is not quite perfect.”
    â€œYes, milord,” Ames said in a quivering voice. Ames had been with Stanhope only six months. Most of his servants did not last that long, but since the war ended servants were readily available.
    He tolerated Ames’s clumsy attempts for another thirty minutes, then proclaimed it barely acceptable. He pulled on a pair of spotless gloves—God help every servant in the house if there was the merest discoloration—and told Ames to see that his horse was saddled.
    A few moments later he lifted himself into the saddle and guided the horse toward Haymarket and the theaters.
    Monique saw two men in the back of the theater. She recognized Daven instantly.
    She knew immediately that the second man was Stanhope.
    She didn’t miss a cue as she tore her gaze away from them and toward Richard, forcing a gaiety in her voice. When she turned again, she saw the two men in conversation with Paul Lynch.
    She concentrated on Richard. It was a trick she had learned long ago, to wipe away everything except the character she was playing. She even felt the attraction she was supposed to be feeling. For two hours she would be the wronged wife who responded with revenge and humor and a wounded soul.
    For the rest of the rehearsal she was able to keep her mind on only the lines. Her stomach felt a haven for butterflies, her legs were rubbery. But she was the mistress of her fate in the play, and she was bloody determined to be the same outside the theater.
    The rehearsal concluded. Mr. Lynch appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
    â€œMonique?”
    â€œ Oui , monsieur?”
    â€œThe rehearsal is going well. You are everything I hoped you would be.”
    â€œ Merci .”
    â€œThere is someone you wanted to meet. An earl, Monique.” He looked embarrassed. “He offered to invest in the company.”
    â€œI did not know you needed investment,” she said.
    He looked uncomfortable. “Investors always help. They tend to bring their friends.”
    â€œWho is this potential investor?”
    â€œThe Ea—rl of Stanhope,” he stuttered.
    â€œThe man you warned me about?”
    He shifted on his feet. “You did say you wanted to meet him and this seems … fortuitous, would you not say?”
    Greed had obviously overtaken his sense of protection. She expected no more.
    â€œI will see him,” she said, “and I will be most pleasant. For your sake, of course. But then I am always pleasant unless someone makes me otherwise.”
    She watched as he digested the warning.
    â€œNo one has ever proved anything against the Earl of Stanhope.”
    â€œDo you vouch for him now, Mr. Lynch?”
    The man’s face turned even redder.
    â€œI will expect my carriage to be waiting.”
    He nodded.
    She left him without another word and went to her dressing room, where Dani waited.
    â€œHe has taken the bait, Dani. He wants to invest in Lynch’s company.”
    Dani was already taking pins from her hair. “You are making him wait?”
    â€œ Oui . Our lord needs a little humility, I think.”
    â€œDo not twist the tail of the tiger, mademoiselle.”
    â€œOh I plan to do a great deal of twisting.”
    A knock came at the door, and Monique exchanged a look with Dani. “Answer it,” she said.
    Dani opened the door a slit, peering out.
    A voice obviously accustomed to obedience boomed into the room. “I wish to give my compliments to Miss Fremont.”
    â€œShe is changing clothes,” Dani said cooly. “It must wait.”
    â€œI am the Earl of Stanhope. Lynch said …”
    â€œI do not care if you are Father Christmas. You must wait.” She closed the door and turned