Rachel shrugged. "Few dare."

"Yes, that is true enough," her companion murmured.

Rachel narrowed her gaze as her initial concern became threaded with a growing sense of unease. Why the devil was Violet suddenly so interested in a life of scandal? Surely this sweet, biddable child was not considering anything drastic? The mere thought was enough to freeze her heart.

"Is something wrong?" she asked softly.

Violet's gaze abruptly dropped to her fan, which was rapidly becoming frayed beyond repair.

"I was merely thinking that scandal has not interfered in your life. Indeed, you have been very happy with the freedom to do as you choose."

Her words only deepened Rachel's unease to downright fear. Gads, had she possibly said anything to urge Violet into an act she might very well regret the rest of her life?

"Violet, are you considering doing something scandalous?" she asked in cautious tones.

"Me?" Violet gave a forced laugh. "I am not nearly so daring as you."

Far from convinced, Rachel reached out to grasp her friend's hand, her expression uncommonly somber. Although the scandal in her own life had never been particularly bothersome, she had seen how it had wounded her sensitive sister, Emma, and to a lesser extent even Sarah. She would not wish to allow Violet to be carried away with some romantic notion that scandal did not require its own peculiar price.

"My dearest, I will admit that I do not wish to see you married to Mr. Wingrove, but there is no need to do anything hasty. If you wish to come with me to London so you can consider your future, you have only to tell me."

The youthful features became shuttered, as if Violet abruptly regretted speaking at all.

"Yes, thank you."

"Violet."

"Forgive me, I must join Father."

Before Rachel could protest, Violet had pulled free of her grasp and began pushing her way back through the thick crowd.

Rachel resisted the urge to charge after her. The middle of a ballroom was hardly the place to coerce a confession from her friend. Even supposing Violet would be willing to confess what she was plotting.

Besides, she reminded herself sternly, she had quite enough to worry about this evening as it was.

Unconsciously tapping her foot, Rachel anxiously scanned the passing guests in search of the familiar handsome countenance.

Several long moments passed until she at last caught a glimpse of Anthony's lean form weaving its way in her direction. A deep surge of relief rushed through her at the same moment her heart flopped at the sight of him attired in pure black silk with only his crisp white cravat and silk shirt to provide relief.

She had been correct when she had first caught sight of him at the opera house, she mused with a delicious furl of excitement. He did possess a fine pair of shoulders. And broad chest. And firm legs. And . . . she shivered, determinedly returning her thoughts to the matters at hand. It would never do to have Rachel Cresswell ogling a gentleman like a lovelorn schoolgirl. She did have a reputation to uphold.

Waiting until he had battled his way to her side, she offered him a smile.

"Anthony, at last," she breathed in low tones. "I feared that you must have been caught."

He shrugged, the dark gaze running an appreciative gaze over her slender form.

"We were forced into hiding on a few occasions."

"And how is she? Comfortably settled?"

"She is thoroughly delighted."

"Did you make sure that she could see well and that she could reach the platters of food that I left for her?"

"All is in order, my little g-general," he said wryly. "I would not have left her if I was not certain."

"I only wish the night to be very special for her."

"I doubt she will soon forget it. Her eyes were shining as brightly as any diamond."

"And you warned her not to lean too close to the curtains?"

He smiled deep into her wide eyes. "You know, you sound remarkably like an overbearing mother hen protecting her chick."

A sharp, unexpected pang abruptly wiped the smile from her lips.

"Nonsense."

Watching the light dim in her eyes, Anthony's brows drew together in puzzlement.

"Why should it be n-nonsense? You will someday be a wonderful mother."

"No," she said softly.

"What?"

"I will never have children."

With an impatient glance at the numerous guests that hovered near, Anthony grasped her elbow and tugged her behind a fluted column.

"Of course you shall have children," he said with more force than was necessarily warranted. Almost as if her claim annoyed him. Which was ridiculous, of course. Why should he possibly concern himself with the question of whether or not she would choose to have children? "Eventually you will put aside your absurd fears of marriage and be eager to have a family with the proper gentleman."

Rachel felt a flare of irritation at his persistence. This was not a subject she wished to dwell upon. Especially not on an evening she had worked so hard to make special.

"You do not know me as well as you think you do."

He appeared to be battling his own annoyance. "You prefer this shallow image of independence to the genuine love of a husband and children? I do not accept that, Rachel. Deep inside you wish to possess what your sisters have discovered."

Her heart clenched as his shaft slid easily home. "I am not like my sisters."

"Why?"

"They have taken after my mother," she said in pointed tones. "They are loyal and steadfast and always virtuous."

He gave a shake of his head. "What the devil are you implying?"

Rachel briefly wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse.

"I would think it was obvious that I inherited my father's unpredictable temperament."

Anthony paused as a uniformed servant halted with a tray of champagne. At his dark scowl the poor man hurriedly backed away, treading on the toe of a large matron who promptly screeched in protest.

Ignoring the chaos he had created, Anthony continued to regard Rachel with a narrowed gaze.

"You are somewhat impulsive, I will grant. But that is hardly an insurmountable fault."

"You do not understand."

"Then m-make me understand."

She heaved a sigh, silently cursing him for being so persistent. She had never discussed her inner fears with anyone. Not even Sarah or Emma.

"I love my father. And I have never doubted his love for me," she began in grudging tones.

He stepped closer to better catch her low words, his male power surrounding her.

"You are very fortunate," he murmured.

"Yes, I am, but that does not make me blind to the fact that my father's own desires and impulsive whims have ruled his life. My father will always do what is best for the Devilish Dandy. At times such behavior is very painful to those in his life."

He appeared thunderstruck at her perfectly logical explanation. Which was nonsense. Surely he had already determined himself that she was too impulsive and strong-willed to ever make a gentleman a comfortable wife?

"You are not your father," he breathed in disgruntled tones.

"But I am very much like him. I can be selfish and determined to go my own way."

His lips thinned as if annoyed by her perfectly logical explanation.

"You can also be generous, kind, and thoughtful. I know of no other maiden who would have taken such a concern in an unknown young girl."

She shrugged in a restless manner. "Anyone would feel sympathy for her plight."

"Sympathy perhaps, but few would have gone to the efforts to please her as you have."

"I have done very little," she protested.

"Good God, enough of this, Rachel," he said in stern tones, reaching out to grasp her hand in a tight grip. "I will not have you doubting your essential goodness. Whatever your father's faults, they are not yours."

A momentary doubt made Rachel hesitate. How many occasions had her sisters rued her wild nature and compared her to the Devilish Dandy? Even those in society labeled her the Devil's Daughter. She had in time accepted the comparison as undeniable. She was reckless and wild and self-indulgent. But was it possible she possessed a small measure of her mother's sweet nature as well?

"How can you be so certain?" she asked before she could halt the words.

His grip on her fingers tightened. "Because I know you. I have seen into your heart."

Just for a moment she became lost in the dark tenderness in his eyes. There was such faith in those eyes. A belief in her that she had never before experienced. Then the realization of how vulnerable her heart was becoming made her abruptly pull away from his seductive promise.

No, she told herself with a flare of fear. She was not yet prepared to ponder such dangerous thoughts.

"This is absurd."

He opened his lips to continue his argument, but noting the wary determination of her set features he heaved a rueful sigh.

"I will convince you yet, my stubborn dove. But for now I will be content to enjoy a waltz. Shall we?"

Relieved that he was willing to drop the disturbing subject, Rachel gave a faint nod of her head.

At the moment the daring waltz seemed far safer than continuing the futile conversation.

The satin darkness settled about Rachel with a near-tangible force. Beneath the warmth of her velvet cloak she shivered, as much from unease as the brisk air.

It had been more impulse than rational thought that had led her from the comfort of her bedchamber to the dark woods that surrounded the dowager house.

She simply had to assure herself that Anthony had returned Julia to her bed without mishap, she had acknowledged. She had not fully approved of his decision to carry her back to the dowager house rather than using his carriage. Although she realized a carriage would attract undue attention, she could not help but fear that an errant guest or servant might stumble across them.

She would not possibly sleep a wink if she was forced to worry the entire night whether or not Anthony had managed to return safely.

She did not question her overriding concern for both Anthony and Julia. It was simply there and she knew she could not idly wait to find out that all was well.

Grimacing at the dampness seeping through her slippers, Rachel gathered the cloak even tighter about her, abruptly freezing at the faint rustle directly before her.

"Anthony?" she called softly. "Is that you?" A heavy silence greeted her words, then without warning a large shadow loomed before her. "Oh."

"Rachel." A familiar, highly exasperated voice sent a flare of relief through her. "What the devil are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to be certain that you returned Julia safely."

"She is being happily settled in her bed by your maid," he retorted in clipped tones.

"And she enjoyed her evening?"

"I should be very surprised if she even closes her eyes tonight for thinking of her grand adventure."

"Did you remember to tell her that she must hide her ball gown so that it will not be found by Mrs. Greene?"

"Everything is taken c-care of." He stepped close enough so that Rachel could begin to detect the tight cast of his aquiline features. "Now, my dear, we will discuss your foolishness in coming out here alone."

Unaccustomed to having her actions questioned by anyone, Rachel arched her brows.

"You are out here alone."

"It is not at all the same, as you well know."

Rachel's brows drew together at the stern warning in his voice.

"Anthony, are you attempting to lecture me?"