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of him finding out who she really was—she wore a mask! she reasoned above the drumbeat of her clamorous pulse. Edward need never learn about this, nor anyone else in all of gossiping London. What else were masked balls made for but these kinds of naughty little adventures? It harmed no one. She could enjoy this secret, indulge the rampant curiosity this man had aroused in her on sight, and keep this memory locked away to get her through the cold, long years ahead.
    Just this once…
    With a gentle pressure on her waist, Major Knight began turning her around. She yielded willingly to his guiding touch, her pulse a staccato. When she faced him, she looked up and, oh, yes, to be sure, it was he—Derek Knight, conjured from a dream, looking truly like the embodiment of every woman’s fantasies.
    Now that they were so close, she could appreciate how impossibly handsome the man really was. Her gaze traveled over his chiseled face with its marvelous, strong bone structure. His eyebrows were thick and black, gracefully feathered, his sculpted lips fashioned for temptation. Most magical of all, however, were those magnetic eyes, piercing, pale blue-silver in the night and full of mystery. She looked into their glittering depths and saw the moment that Derek Knight realized his mistake.
    He furrowed his brow, moving back slightly, then one eyebrow shot up as he stared at her in amazed recognition. “You!” he breathed.
    Lily smiled mischievously at him, and his fine lips parted in surprise, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. He let out a soft laugh. “What a fortunate mistake!”
    “Not who you were expecting, Major?” she taunted, lifting her chin.
    “Better. Much better.” His potent glance skimmed downward over her, but he seemed hesitant about coming close again. Somehow she found his sudden caution endearing.
    “I saw you on the stairs,” he informed her.
    “I know. You were staring.”
    He frowned at her in mock reproach. “You ran from me.”
    Lily held his gaze. “Well, I’m not running now.”
             
    “Who are you?” Derek whispered, entirely bewitched. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
    She shrugged her delicate shoulders and leaned back a bit against the railing behind her, swinging the folded fan that dangled from a strap around her wrist. “Nobody in particular.”
    “Oh, I don’t believe that,” he murmured in frank admiration, mesmerized by her languid motion and suddenly longing to kiss that elegant wrist. “Have you got a name?”
    She favored him with a coy smile. “Of course I do.”
    “I see. But you’re not going to tell me what it is.”
    She shook her head, her eyes dancing behind her pale-colored half-mask. “It wouldn’t really matter, would it?”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Your fame precedes you.”
    “Hm,” he said sardonically, realizing that could mean any number of things. Still, Derek found himself charmed by her refusal to tell him her name. Any sort of denial from a female was indeed a novelty. Back in the ballroom, her beauty had first arrested his attention, but now that they were face-to-face, he quite liked her sly confidence and her air of cool grace.
    He folded his arms across his chest and studied her in roguish fascination. “You seem to have the advantage of me.”
    “Yes. Major Derek Knight, newly arrived from India.”
    “I’ll be going back there soon,” he replied with a nod, offering the information as a pretty bald hint that if she wanted to know him, she’d better act fast and cough up her name.
    “Why?” she inquired.
    “Fortune and glory, love. Same as any man, Miss—?”
    She shook her head slowly.
    “Stubborn,” he murmured, smiling. “Very well, then. Keep your lovely self a secret if you must.” If he had to kiss it out of her, he’d learn her name eventually, but for the moment, he could enjoy playing along with her flirtatious game. Indeed, this whole situation appealed to the naughtier side of his nature,