“No,” he said bluntly. “Now run along and change your gown.”

It seemed as if everyone in London was at the theater tonight—and every pair of eyes seemed to shift to them as they entered Jason’s box. Heads turned, fans fluttered, and whispers began. At first, Victoria assumed they were surprised to see Jason looking perfectly well, rather than wounded, but she began to change her mind later. As soon as she left the box with Jason between the acts of the play, she realized that something was different. Young ladies and older ones alike, people who had been friendly in the past, were now eyeing her with stiff faces and censorious eyes. And Victoria finally realized why: Jason had reportedly fought a duel for her. Her reputation had just suffered a telling blow.

Not far away, an old woman wearing a white satin turban with an enormous amethyst at the front observed Jason and Victoria with narrowed eyes. “So,” the Duchess of Claremont hissed under her breath to her elderly companion, “Wakefield has fought a duel for her.”

“So I’ve heard, your grace,” Lady Faulklyn agreed.

The Duchess of Claremont leaned upon her ebony cane, watching her great-granddaughter. “She is the image of Katherine.”

“Yes, your grace.”

The duchess’s faded blue eyes moved over Victoria from head to toe, then shifted to Jason Fielding. “Handsome devil, isn’t he?”

Lady Faulklyn paled as if afraid to risk answering in the affirmative.

Ignoring her silence, the duchess tapped her fingertips upon the jeweled handle of her cane and continued to study the Marquess of Wakefield through narrowed eyes. “He looks like Atherton,” she said.

“There is a slight resemblance,” Lady Faulklyn ventured hesitantly.

“Nitwit!” the duchess snapped. “Wakefield looks exactly as Atherton did when he was young.”

“Exactly!” declared Lady Faulklyn.

A smile of malicious glee spread across the duchess’s thin face. “Atherton thinks he’s going to pull off a marriage between our two families against my wishes. He’s waited twenty-two years to spite me, and he actually believes he’s going to succeed.” A low cackle grated in her chest as she watched the beautiful couple standing a few yards away. “Atherton’s wrong,” she said.

Victoria nervously averted her gaze from the stern-faced old woman wearing the peculiar turban. Everyone seemed to be watching Jason and her, even elderly women she’d never laid eyes upon before, like that one. She glanced apprehensively at Jason. “My coming here with you was a dreadful mistake,” she told him as he handed her a glass of ratafia.

“Why? You’ve enjoyed watching the play.” He grinned into her worried blue eyes. “And I’ve enjoyed watching you.”

“Well, you mustn’t watch me, and you particularly mustn’t look as if you enjoy doing so,” Victoria said, trying to ignore the surge of pleasure she felt at his casual compliment.

“Why not?”

“Because everyone is watching us.”

“They’ve seen us together before,” Jason said with an indifferent shrug, and ushered her back to his private box.

Things were worse, much worse, when they arrived at the Mortrams’ ball. The moment they walked in together, everyone in the crowded ballroom seemed to turn and stare in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.

“Jason, this is horrid! It’s worse than the theater. There, at least some of the people were watching the stage. Here, everyone is staring at us, and will you please,” she implored, switching topics, “stop smiling at me in that charming way— everyone is watching us!”

“Am I being charming?” he teased, but his gaze made a swift, sweeping appraisal of the faces in the ballroom. “What I see,” he drawled mildly, nodding his head to her right, “is a half dozen of your besotted admirers standing over there, looking as if they would all like to devise a way to slit my throat and dispose of my body.”

Victoria could have stamped her foot in frustration. “You’re deliberately ignoring what’s happened. Caroline Collingwood is privy to all the on dits, and she told me no one believed we had any real interest in each other. Gossip had it that we were merely keeping up the charade of a betrothal for Uncle Charles’s sake. But now you’ve fought a duel because of something someone said about me, which changes everything. They’re thinking about how much time you spend at the house when I’m there—”

“It happens to be my house,” Jason drawled, his brows snapping together over ominous green eyes.

“I know, but it’s the principle of the thing that counts. Now everyone—particularly the ladies—is wondering all sorts of vile things about us. If you were anyone but you, it wouldn’t matter so much,” she said, meaning only that their confused betrothal status only added more fuel for the gossip. “It’s the principle of the—”

Jason’s voice dropped to a low, icy whisper. “You’re mistaken if you think I give a damn what people think— including you. Don’t bother lecturing me on principles, because I don’t have any, and don’t mistake me for a ‘gentleman,’ because I’m not. I’ve lived in places you’ve never heard of and I’ve done things in all of them that would offend all your puritanical sensibilities. You’re an innocent, foolish child. I was never innocent. I was never even a child. However, since you’re so concerned about what people think, the problem is relatively easy to remedy. You can spend the rest of the evening with your simpering beaux, and I’ll find someone to amuse me.”

Victoria was so confused and hurt by Jason’s unprovoked attack that she could scarcely think after he walked away. Nevertheless, she did exactly as he had so rudely suggested, and despite the lessening of the nasty looks cast in her direction, she had a perfectly dreadful time. Her hurt pride compelled her to act as if she enjoyed dancing with her partners and listening to their flattering conversation, but her ears seemed to be tuned to the sound of Jason’s deep voice, and her heart seemed to sense when he was near her.

With growing misery, Victoria realized Jason had coolly surrounded himself with three beautiful blondes who were vying with each other for his attention and turning themselves inside out to win one of his lazy smiles. Not once since last night had she permitted herself to dwell on the pleasure his lips had given her. Now she couldn’t seem to think of anything else, and she longed to have him back at her side, instead of flirting with those other women, and the devil fly with public opinion!