Chapter Thirty-One

Ellie glanced sideways at Harry. She'd told him to meet her at Harriet Winthrop's party, and the sight of him, looking so effortlessly elegant in formal eveningwear, made her stomach flip. "So you agree?"

His lips curved as he glanced down at her. "To ‘acquiring' the gem? Of course. It's a small price to pay for reclaiming my identity."

Ellie couldn't argue with that. She'd never really considered what it must be like to not have the security of a name, but she imagined it might be quite disconcerting.

"And besides," he continued silkily, "I couldn't possibly refuse such a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The tone of his words suggested he wasn't merely talking about work, and Ellie tried not to blush. Working with him would be a lot easier if he wasn't so attractive. And if she didn't know exactly what lay beneath those beautiful clothes of his.

Her face heated at the memory of his skin sliding against hers, the look on his face when he'd joined his body with hers. Even now, more unsure of his identity than she'd ever been, she wanted him.

His insistence that he was the Lost Earl seemed so genuine that it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe him a charlatan, but rule number seven could still be applied to Harry himself.

If it looks too good to be true, it probably is. She would be foolish to get her hopes up.

But it was hard to be formal when they'd been so intimate. A new, reckless part of her wanted to drag him into the nearest storage room or broom closet and kiss him senseless, exactly as they'd done at Willingham's. She wanted to beg him to make good on his promise to make love to her up against the wall, but that would only complicate matters. They had a job to do.

"You look very lovely tonight."

She accepted the compliment with a smile. She was wearing a dress she'd borrowed from Tess, a lovely lavender-blue. It was another of Madame Lef è vre's creations, and although it was nowhere near as revealing as the emerald-green silk she'd worn to Willingham's, it was still different enough from the dresses she usually wore to have made her the subject of numerous admiring male glances.

Gentlemen who'd never paid her any attention before were suddenly looking her way, and instead of ducking into a corner to hide, she found herself lifting her chin and smiling back at them.

Was her increased confidence because she was no longer a virgin? Had the experience imbued her with some kind of magical feminine power?

Certainly, she looked at every man now with new eyes, trying to imagine what they'd look like beneath their clothes, or wondering what making love to them would be like.

Unfortunately, most of those musings led to a repulsed shudder. None of them could compete with the memory of Harry.

Curse him.

"I see your cousin is here," Harry said softly, breaking into her thoughts. He sent a charming smile toward a pair of elderly matrons, who'd passed by on at least two previous occasions. Ellie recognized them as Prudence and Constance Davies, great-aunts of her old schoolfriend Carys Davies, now Carys Montgomery. The two were inveterate gossips. Heaven only knew what rumors they would be cooking up, seeing her talking so intensely with Harry.

"Edward? Yes."

"He seems like a nice chap."

"He is a nice chap. In fact, he's everything I admire in a gentleman. He's selfless, kind, honorable—"

"—law abiding, morally upstanding." Harry rolled his eyes and pretended to yawn. "I'm surprised you haven't married him."

"My parents would certainly approve of the match. He's exactly the kind of man they'd like me to wed."

"He couldn't take his eyes off you, when the two of you were talking earlier."

"You were spying on me?"

"Of course not. I was acquiring wisdom by observing. And was therefore an unwilling witness to his clumsy attempts at flirtation."

Ellie made a face. "Edward wasn't flirting with me. He doesn't think of me in that way. We're friends, that's all."

Harry's brows rose toward his hairline. "Take it from someone who knows, he definitely finds you attractive. I think he's finally realized just how rare you are. You're not just beautiful, you're as intelligent as he is, and you were right under his nose this whole time. He's thinking he's been a fool to take you for granted for all these years."

Ellie gaped at him. "That's a lot to deduce just from watching us talk."

He shrugged. "You would have made just as good a barrister as he is, if you'd been born a man. Don't you envy his career? Don't you resent the fact that you've been prohibited from doing something you would love?"

She bit her lip. He'd done it again. Pierced her straight through the heart with a disarmingly accurate comment. How did he do it? Could he read minds as well as predict playing cards?

"I have been frustrated, sometimes," she said slowly. Truthfully. "Edward started his career as an apprentice to one of my great heroes, William Garrow, the legendary defense counsel. He's attorney general for England and Wales now—and a good friend of my father's. I admire him immensely. He was the first to insist that a person was innocent until proven guilty, and that accusers and their evidence should be thoroughly tested in court."

Harry's eyes were sympathetic. "Bravo."

"I resigned myself to the fact that being a woman bars me from becoming a lawyer many years ago. But I'm glad to have forged a career that achieves very similar goals—namely, helping those in need, and the pursuit of justice for all."

Harry nodded, and she had the impression that he understood her, knew her, in a way no one except perhaps Tess and Daisy had ever managed. For all her closeness with Edward, he'd never once asked her a probing question like that. He'd probably never even considered things from her perspective. Harry, on the other hand, seemed able to see things from every angle.

He plucked two glasses of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to her. Ellie took a fortifying sip.

"So, when do we go to The Golden Ball and relieve this Mr. Blake of his jewel?" he asked lazily.

"We?"

"Yes. I need Carlotta again."

"Why?"

"A man who goes to a gaming club on his own immediately singles himself out as being serious about winning. It puts the other players on guard. A man with a beautiful woman on his arm, however, is there for some fun. He's easily distracted, only giving half his attention to the game. He's hardly a threat at all."

"That makes sense," Ellie said. She slid him a sly, sideways glance. "Aren't you afraid Carlotta will distract you ?"

His eyes darkened, and his gaze fixed on her mouth as if he were thinking of kissing her. Her heart seemed to stutter.

"It's definitely a risk," he growled. "You'd have to promise to be on your best behavior."

The thought that she might actually have the power to distract him was heady, and a mischievous smile curled the corners of her mouth.

"I'll do my best," she murmured.

Harry watched Ellie saunter away and clenched his hand into a fist against the urge to grab the back of her dress and pull her back against him for a kiss.

Cheeky little minx. She never would have teased him like that a week ago, but it was as if their lovemaking had brought out some previously hidden strand of wickedness in her. It was glorious to see, even though it increased her ability to be dangerously distracting.

If he had any sense at all he'd take Daisy or Tess to The Golden Ball with him instead. Someone beautiful, who'd do the job without providing any temptation. But where Ellie was concerned, he seemed to have lost his wits entirely.

He only wanted her.

Making love with her should have reduced his desire. He'd removed the mystery and anticipation. But now that he knew the sweetness he could find in her arms, and the pleasure he received from pleasuring her, he craved her even more.

He took a deep breath.

That dress she was wearing made her look delicious, and the fact that he wasn't the only man in the room who'd noticed made his blood heat even more. He tamped down a hot sweep of possessiveness, even as he glared at a foppish marquis who raised his quizzing glass to his eye and ogled her as she passed him in the doorway.

She was not his. Not yet. He couldn't make any claim on her until he'd proved who he was, and to do that he had to win that jewel.

He would not fail.