“No one’s ever done what you’re about to do,” he said, finally.
“What’s that?”
He returned to his relaxed position against the marble balustrade. “Returned from the dead. If you succeed, you shall sell a great deal of newspapers.”
“How very mercenary of you.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t wish you to succeed.” After a long moment, he added, sounding surprised, “In fact, I believe I want just that.”
“You do?” she asked, even as she told herself not to.
“I do.”
He could help her win.
He studied her for a long while, and she resisted the urge to fidget beneath his gaze. Finally, he said, “Have we met before?”
Damn.
She looked nothing like Anna tonight. Anna was primped and painted, stuffed and padded, all tight corset and spilling bosom, pale powder, red lips, and blond hair so bold it gleamed nearly platinum. Georgiana was the opposite, tall, yes, and blond, but without the extravagance. She had breasts of a normal size. Her hair was a natural hue. Skin, too. And lips.
He was a man, and men saw only that for which they were looking. And still he seemed to see into her.
“I do not think so,” she replied, resisting the thought. She turned to head into the ballroom. “Will you dance?”
He shook his head. “I’ve business to attend to.”
“Here?” The question was out, filled with curiosity, before she realized that simple Georgiana Pearson would not care enough to ask.
His gaze narrowed slightly on her, no doubt as he considered the question. “Here. And then elsewhere.” With the barest pause, he added, “You are certain we have not met?”
She shook her head. “I have not been in these circles for many years.”
“I am not always in these circles myself.” He paused, then added, as much to himself as to her, “I would remember you.”
There was an honesty in his words that had her catching her breath. Her gaze widened. “Are you flirting with me?”
He shook his head. “No need for flirting. It’s the truth.”
She allowed one side of her mouth to lift in a smile. “Now I know you are flirting. And with aplomb.”
He dipped his head. “My lady does me great compliment.”
She laughed. “Cease, sir. I’ve a plan, and it does not include handsome newspapermen.”
White teeth flashed. “I’m handsome now, am I?”
It was her turn to raise a brow. “I am certain you own a mirror.”
He laughed. “You are not what I would have expected.”
If he only knew.
“I may not be very good at selling your newspapers, after all.”
“You let me worry about selling newspapers.” He paused. “You worry about your plan – every debutante’s plan since the beginning of time.”
She gave a little huff of laughter. “I am no debutante.”
He watched her for a moment. “I think you are more of one than you would like to admit. Don’t you wish a breathless waltz under the stars with a suitor or two?”
“Breathless waltzes have only ever led girls into trouble.”
“You want a title.”
There, he was right. She let her silence be her agreement.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Let’s dispense with the artifice. You’re not looking for just any unmarried gentleman. You have a mark. Or at least a list of requirements”
She cut him a look. “A list would be mercenary.”
“It would be intelligent.”
“Admitting it would be crass.”
“Admitting it would be honest.”
Why did he have to be so clever? So quick? So… well matched. No. She resisted the descriptor. He was a means to an end. Nothing more.
He broke the silence. “Obviously someone who needs money.”
“It’s the point of a dowry, correct?”
“And one who has a title.”
“And one who has a title,” she conceded.
“What else does Lady Georgiana Pearson wish?”
Someone decent.
He seemed to read her mind. “Someone who would be good to Caroline.”
“I thought we agreed that you would not speak her name?”
“She’s the bit that makes it difficult.”
Georgiana had pored over the files in her office at the Angel. She’d eliminated a dozen unmarried men. Whittled her options down to a single viable candidate – a man about whom she knew enough to know he would make a fine husband.
A man she could blackmail into marrying her if need be.
“There isn’t a list,” he said finally, watching her carefully. “You have him selected.”
He was very good at his job.
“I do,” she admitted.
She should end this conversation now. She’d been away from the ballroom long enough to be noticed, and there was no one else on the balcony but this man. If they were discovered…
Her heart pounded. If they were discovered, it would add to her reputation. The risk tempted, as was always the case with risk. She knew that well. But it was the first time in a very long time that the risk came with a handsome face.
The first time in ten years.
“Who?”
She did not answer.
“I’ll discover it soon enough.”
“Probably,” she said. “It is your profession, is it not?”