On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

Anne and Fiona accepted the rebuke, meekly, but it was clear their poor opinion of Fiona's aunt choosing to take her to visit relatives in Somerset during the critical week had not altered.

"I heard there's to be a balloon ascension in the park the day after tomorrow."

Emily's information distracted the girls; Minerva sat back, watching with fond affection as they discussed the event.

Luc paid their ramblings little heed; his gaze on Amelia's golden head, he wondered… she was watching the younger girls, smiling at their excitement. "Would you like to view the spectacle?"

She looked up, met his eyes — read them, and colored delicately. She glanced at the girls. "Perhaps we could make a party?"

Luc inwardly grimaced, but gracefully nodded when his sisters looked eagerly his way. "Why not?" It would serve as a reasonable first outing to which he could publicly squire Amelia.

Fiona whooped; Anne smiled. Emily laughed. They fell to discussing the details.

Under cover of their excited chatter, Amelia glanced up and met his gaze, a certain consciousness in her eyes…

"Actually, we've just been discussing…" His mother captured his attention before he could fathom the reason behind that particular look. Minerva smiled and held his gaze. "As Amanda has gone north and won't return this Season, and as I've got to escort these giddy girls about, then it makes eminent sense for Amelia to join us, especially when Louise has clashing engagements."

He managed to keep his expression impassive, then he looked again at Amelia. She met his gaze over the rim of her cup, then lowered it and smiled brightly. "It seemed the most obvious idea."

"Indeed. So Amelia will be joining us here tonight, then we'll all go on to Lady Carstairs's rout." His mother raised a brow at him. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

He straightened, "No."

"I'll order the carriage for eight, then — we should all be able to fit."

Amelia set down her cup and spoke to Minerva. "Thank you. I'll be here before eight." She smiled, then extended the gesture to the girls. "But now I really must go."

Luc waited, suppressing his impatience while she farewelled his mother and sisters. When she turned to him, he waved to the door. "I'll see you out."

With brief nods to his mother and the girls, he stalked after her to the door, reached around her and opened it, then followed her into the hall. A quick glance showed no footmen about; shutting the door, he caught her gaze. "You agreed to follow my lead."

She opened her eyes wide. "Weren't you intending for me to join your mother and sisters at some point?" Turning toward the front door, she started pulling on her gloves. "It seemed an opportunity waiting to be grasped."

"Quite." He prowled by her side as she headed for the door. "But at some point."

She halted, looked at him. "Which point?"

He frowned. "Possibly after the balloon ascension."

She raised her brows, then shrugged. "Tonight was sooner. Anyway" — glancing down, she struggled with one of the tiny buttons closing her gloves—"it's done now."

Impossible to argue that. Luc told himself it didn't really matter. They reached the front door; he opened it. She was still struggling with her glove.

"Here — let me." He grasped her wrist, sensed more than heard the quick intake of her breath. Felt the frisson that sheered through her as his sliding fingertips found the gap in the cuff of her recalcitrant glove, found her bare skin.

He met her gaze, then, gripping, slowly raised her hand and looked at the difficult button.

She remained absolutely immobile — he didn't think she even breathed — while he dealt with the tiny closure. The button slipped into place. He looked up, caught her gaze — deliberately rubbed the fine leather, smoothing the button into place, his thumb riding slowly back and forth over the sensitive inner face of her wrist.

Her eyes sparked; she twisted her wrist — he released her. She looked down, gathering her skirts.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he lounged against the doorframe. "I'll see you tonight then. Before eight."

"Indeed." She inclined her head, but didn't meet his gaze. "Until then."

Head rising, she stepped out and descended the steps. Reaching the pavement, she turned for her home and waved one hand; her footman came quickly up the area steps, nodded to Luc, then fell in behind her.

Luc dispelled the frown that had been about to form; straightening, he shut the front door — only then did he let his lips quirk. She might have taken it upon herself to initiate the next step, but he still held the whip.