Scarlett let Leo walk away because she needed a moment to compose herself.

But only a moment. And then she was on his heels, following him down the lowly lit Aston Manor hallway.

"Are those the lines you use to catch all of the women, Leo?"

Leo's stride faltered, and he whirled around to face her. His appearance was completely different than the last time Scarlett had seen him but equally disastrous to her pulse. He was wearing the finest dress coat of a midnight blue, the hues of it echoing his eyes. It fit him perfectly, and though everything was covered with the expensive fabric, it emphasized his trim form.

And now he was running a hand through his blonde hair, smiling down on Scarlett. "It is rather cute how you believe that I've ever had to try this hard with any other woman," he said.

His words struck Scarlett a little bit. She didn't know whether to feel exasperated by the man's lack of humility or complemented by his effort toward her.

Though, Scarlett hated to admit that it was more of the latter. She knew she shouldn't be so captivated by Leo Pearce, but reason and logic were beginning to escape her when it came to him.

"Come," Leo said, holding out his arm. Music called to them from down the hallway, and Scarlett recognized it as a fast-paced reel. "Come dance with me."

Scarlett had been about to take his arm but quickly dropped her hand.

"I'm sorry, but I would prefer to stay at the edge of the dance floor this evening." Scarlett didn't need a repeat of the asthma episode that had occurred when she'd danced with Lord Symons. She had taken a dose of laudanum early today, but she still did not wish to risk it.

Leo tilted his head, studying her. He refused to drop his arm for her to take. "Then let me escort you to the edge of the dance floor, Scarlett."

Nodding, Scarlett grasped his arm and wished she didn't appreciate the feel of it so much.

"Will you tell me why you continue to avoid dancing with me?" Leo questioned softly.

"Rest assured, it is not only you who I am avoiding when it comes to dancing."

"You must know that only piques my interest more."

"You needn't concern yourself, Leo. It isn't anything all too interesting. I simply do not care for dancing anymore. I had quite enough of that when I was a debutante."

The two of them entered the ballroom, and it instantly felt as though they were the center of attention. Since it was rather late in the evening, there was no one there to greet them, but eyes seemed to pivot in their direction regardless.

Scarlett couldn't help but wonder at the price of the event. So many candles glittered around the room as the crush of aristocrats drank glass after glass of punch, and the orchestra was one that actually played in tune. Even though Scarlett knew that Lord and Lady Aston were exceedingly wealthy, she felt a pang of guilt that the expense of the evening should be hers. They were doing this because of what she'd written.

"Speaking of debutantes," Leo said, breaking through her thoughts, "my parents are insisting that I dance with one or two this evening. I fear I will be forced to leave you here in search of dance cards since you will not allow me to escort you onto the floor."

Scarlett couldn't help but laugh at the near horrified expression on his face at the idea.

"It is quite alright, Leo. I do wish you the best," she said, giving his hand a little pat as she did.

"Thank you," he muttered. "I reckon I shall need it."

She watched as he walked away, toward a young woman with a frilly pastel gown. She couldn't have been past twenty years old, and Scarlett observed as the lady's eyes grew wide at the approaching gentleman. Every eligible lady in this room was likely hoping to catch the attention of Leo tonight, the mentions of him in Mischief in Mayfair not even causing a dent in his reputation.

Leo leaned over and scribbled his name on her dance card, but the couple only had to wait a few moments before the next song began. The two of them entered the dance floor together. Though the young lady was clearly nervous, Leo somehow managed to put her at ease. Soon, she was giggling at some remark or other that Leo whispered, and Scarlett could have sworn that he winked down at her.

At first, she didn't recognize it, but soon it became evident that it was an envious feeling that was slithering through her. It wasn't only that Leo was now doting upon this pretty little slip of a lady, but it was also that Scarlett longed to be her. How would it feel to be a debutante again and dance with handsome lords who were looking for marriage?

Handsome men chased Scarlett, but it wasn't for marriage.

"Hello, Lettie."

Scarlett looked to her left to see Damien. She immediately noticed that his nose looked considerably better. There was some faint bruising across the bridge, but most people likely wouldn't notice.

"Damien," Scarlett greeted him quietly. "I'm glad you're here. I've been wanting to speak with you."

He gestured to the dance floor. "Why don't we discuss it over a dance?"

She shook her head. "The last time I danced at a ball, I had a breathing attack."

Damien dropped his arm, considering that. "Was it a fast number?"

Scarlett nodded.

"What of a slow waltz with me, then?"

"I'd just prefer not to dance, Damien."

He pursed his lips. "If we do not spend time together publically, then it will make it even harder for the gentlemen to believe that I've won the wager again."

"We are spending time together publically at this very moment, are we not?"

"Yes," he edged carefully, "but it is not quite the same. Everyone knows that you do not do the honor of dancing with anyone. Yet if you were to dance with me..."

Scarlett tried very hard to maintain her composure so he wouldn't see her irritation. Or rather, so that onlookers would not see a crack in her facade.

"Fine," she replied finally. "But if I begin to tire, then we will need to exit the floor."

"Of course," Damien said hastily. "Nothing is worth jeopardizing your health."

Scarlett was hoping that she would be able to put the dance off for several more minutes, but then, of course, the music changed, giving way to a lilting tune that indicated it was designed for waltzing.

Damien led her slowly out into the sea of dress coats and pastel gowns, and Scarlett felt somewhat out of place in her burgundy dress. But she kept her back straight, and her head high as Damien placed her within his arms.

"Now, what did you want to speak about?" he murmured as they began.

"Lord Farrington reports that he only hit you because you were saying...crude things about me at the club."

"Ah, yes," Damien admitted hesitantly, surprising Scarlett.

"It is true, then?"

An apologetic look washed over her friend's face. "I was playing a role, Lettie. I was playing a lord who is betting to win you over. Any man that partakes in a bet such as that isn't expected to speak respectfully about the woman involved."

Scarlett continued to try to keep a straight face. "But why did you not tell me that?"

Damien gave a little shake of his head. "I did not want to upset you."

"But you did upset me, Damien," she said through clenched teeth. "I was upset with Leo when I didn't need to be!" She felt her feet fumble over a few steps, her heartbeat increasing from anger and the exertion of even the slowest of dances.

Damien must have noticed because he lowered his voice. "Let us go somewhere else. Perhaps you were right that it was not wise for you to dance."

Scarlett allowed him to lead her from the ballroom floor. But when they reached the edges of the massive chamber, he continued, guiding Scarlett down the hallway and into a darkened room to their left. Blinking, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting, her surroundings only being illuminated by the moon shining through a large window at the far end of the room.

"What are we doing here, Damien?" 

"Finishing our conversation," he said tightly, stepping backward and leaning against a bookshelf in the corner. "This is likely better than dancing anyway, in terms of drawing attention. Everyone will assume our motives for leaving to be different than they are."

Scarlett brushed the comment away, thinking instead about their previous discussion. Her breathing had slowed, and she schooled herself to take one more deep breath. "I do not understand why you did not tell me the truth about what happened."

Damien's expression became apologetic. And yet, there still seemed to be something there that indicated to Scarlett that he wasn't entirely sorry. "I did not want you to get the wrong impression about Farrington."

"But don't you see, that is exactly what happened!" she cried, hating that she was becoming emotional.

"No, Lettie. Farrington is a rogue. A player. I knew if I told you the truth, you'd think him otherwise. I know you've been spending time with him lately, but you need to protect yourself."

"I refuse to believe that Leo would hurt me."

Damien shook his head and took a few steps toward Scarlett, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "Not physically, Lettie. Not like that."

"Than what?"

"Your heart. I don't want him to hurt your heart."

"What?" she sputtered. "I—I—"

She paused, getting a hold of her thoughts. "There's no cause for concern there."

"Hear me out," Damien said, taking another step toward her and putting his other hand on her arm.

"No, Damien. Just...no!" she protested, not wanting to talk about Leo with him anymore. She wasn't ready to have a conversation about her feelings for him.

"Is there a problem here?"

A sharp voice cut in, and Scarlett whirled toward the door to see the very topic of their conversation himself.

Leo stood just inside the room, throwing daggers with his gaze.