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quit the game to
dance with."
    "I
saw her!" Serena declared, as outraged as if the girl had stolen
Tremayne from under their very noses. "She wasn't even pretty!"
    Jane
had seen her as well. The new Mrs. Tremayne was not a classic beauty,
it was true, but Jane had thought her quite arresting and especially
graceful. However, Jane had slightly more pressing questions on her
mind at the moment. "You said the other interesting gentleman
was ineligible?"
    "Oh,
Papa must be talking about Mr. Damont," Serena said
knowledgeably. "You remember, the place card?"
    "Serena,
that's enough," Aunt Lottie admonished sharply. "We do not
discuss our guests in that manner."
    Uncle
Harold grunted. "Don't know why not. It's only the truth. He
won't be a guest of ours again. Bloody piker took the pot!"
    "Harold!"
Aunt Lottie gasped.
    Jane
didn't know why Aunt Lottie still bothered to object to her husband's
vulgarisms. One would think after twenty-odd years of marriage that
nothing would surprise her aunt.
    Unfortunately,
Uncle Harold ran the house, and if he said that Mr. Damont was never
coming back, then it was so.
    Unless…
    "Quite
right," Jane said stoutly. "You certainly don't need a
fellow like that coming around to beat you so soundly at cards. It
would be much wiser to stay away from anyone so much more
proficient."
    Uncle
Harold slid a cold glance in Jane's direction. She blinked in dismay.
Suddenly, she had a deep desire not to be seated at his right any
longer. It would not do to underestimate this man.
    "I
never said he was 'so much more proficient,' Jane girl," he
said, his voice low. "And I'll thank you not to tell me whom to
invite to my own house and whom to exclude."
    Jane
nodded quickly and looked away. "Of course, Uncle. Forgive me."
    Uncle
Harold grunted and turned back to his eggs. "And he didn't beat
me soundly either. I almost had him. I'll bring him back to play
again tonight and this time I'll thrash him, see if I don't."
    "Of
course, Uncle," Jane agreed carefully. At least it seemed she'd
had the ban against Mr. Damont lifted—
    Abruptly,
Jane caught herself. Why had she done that? Wouldn't it be best if
Mr. Damont never darkened her doorway again? He'd seen—well,
nearly
everything
.
    She'd
been particularly counseled by Mother not to call that sort of
attention to herself. "
You
must seem as decorative and demure as possible. Outspoken women are
too often the object of curiosity
."
    What
if he spread the tale about? What if even now he was entertaining his
friends with the story of how he'd plucked Lady Jane Pennington—if
he had indeed recognized her—from a tree like a piece of
indecently clad fruit? Mortification heated Jane's cheeks at the
thought of his hands on her, lifting her down, and the way her body
had slid against his, and the way he'd leaned close enough to—
    Mortification,
definitely. Nothing else. Pure, unadulterated embarrassment.
    He
wouldn't tell,
he
couldn't
—yet
Serena had said he was not a gentleman. He was just an ordinary man,
who could not be expected to live up to the finer code of ethics
demanded by a gentleman's status. He might very well tell the story,
having no idea that he should not. How would he know better, after
all, a man of his background?
    And
yet, he'd not pressed his advantage, not exactly. He'd been a bit
fresh, of course, but then again, she'd been very rude not to thank
him more sincerely. He seemed—
    There
was no help for it. She truly had no idea what sort of man he was.
She needed to meet him again, speak to him, gain some assurance that
he would never, ever, speak of what had happened.
    Of
course, the fact that she burned to look into Mr. Damont's eyes and
see if Serena had been correct about that lonely, soulful gaze had
absolutely nothing to do with it.
    Nothing
at all.

Chapter
Four
    « ^ »

    Ethan
was bloody tired of being followed.
    Although
he himself had never officially joined the private gaming hell called
the Liar's Club, he knew he'd find Collis