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That Sterling had been able to walk straight to the coach, without stumbling, after having the breath knocked out of him at the sight of Frannie descending the stairs was a miracle. Yet even with his acknowledgement she feared she truly had no clue. She preferred knowing exactly what she was getting herself into. She knew only that she wasn’t offended by his candor. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was acknowledging. Of its own accord, her head gave a little bob. His eyes darkened as his gaze traveled from her upswept hair to the toes of her recently polished shoes. “You and I both know, Your Grace, that marriage is not what you have in mind.” “I’m well aware that I do not belong with the aristocracy.” So how is it that you didn’t marry Claybourne?” She was supposed to teach me how to be an aristocratic lady.” To distract them both from where this journey might lead, she said, “Did you know that Luke asked me to marry him? It was how he and Catherine came to know each other.

This awareness of the male allure had never visited her as it did now whenever she was in Greystone’s presence. She’d never experienced this inexplicable change in her body around any of Feagan’s lads, even when they were all younger and slept on the same pallet. Whenever he watched her, she grew uncomfortably warm.

Once they were in the coach, sitting opposite each other as they traveled through the London streets, his gaze never wavered from hers, and to her disappointment, she was the first to look away. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that it would not be used. Although she had mixed feelings about the condom Prudence had given her, the one she’d tucked in her reticule…just in case. This time his grin seemed to be calling her a liar, but she didn’t challenge him. Tonight it is merely the opera and dinner.” She took the last step and would have walked on but his hold on her hand stayed her.

His grin flashed white in the dim light of the alley, as though he understood she was so nervous she might expire on the spot.

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