Satisfied that Margaret, like Emma and Maribella, needed no help from her, Lady Hillsborough moved her gaze on, scanning the room for Sophia's dark head. When her first survey drew no result, she sat up straighter, a slight frown in her eyes. Daniel Hammington was here, somewhere, drat him. He had attended every party they had been to this week, a fact which of itself had already drawn comment. His attentions to Sophia were becoming increasingly marked. Amelia knee all the Hammingtons. She had known Daniel's father and doubted not the truth of the 'like father, like son' adage. But surely Sophia was too sensible to... she wasted no time in completing that thought but started a careful, methodical and entirely well-disguised visual search. From her present position, on a slightly raised dais to one side, she commanded a view of the whole room. Her gaze passed over the alcove set in the wall almost directly opposite her but then returned, caught by a flicker of movement within the shadowed recess.

There they were, Sophia and, without doubt, Daniel Hammington. Amelia could just make out the blur of colour that was Sophia's green dress. How typical of Daniel. They were still in the room, still within sight, but, in the dim light of the alcove, almost private. As her eyes adjusted to the poor light, Amelia saw to her relief that, despite her fears and Daniel's reputation, they were merely talking, seated beside one another on a small steer. Still, to her experienced eye, there was a degree of familiarity in their pose, which, given that it must be unconscious, was all too revealing. With a sigh, she determined to have a word, if not several words, with Sophia, regarding the fascinations of men like Daniel Hammington. She would never have to do it, for Daniel's proclivities were too well-known to doubt.

She watched as Daniel leaned closer to Sophia.

"My dear," drawled Daniel Hammington, "do you have any idea of the temptation you pose? Or the effect beauty such as yours had on mere men?"

His tone was lazy and warm, with a quality of velvety smoothness which fell like a warm cloak over Sophia's already hypersensitized nerves. He had flung one arm over the back of the settee and long fingers were even now twining in the soft curls at her nape. She knew she should move but could not. The sensations rippling down her spine were both novel and exhilarating. She was conscious of a ludicrous desire to snuggle into that warmth, to invite more soft words. But the desire which burned in his lordship's grey eyes was already frighteningly intense. She determinedly ignored the small reckless voice which urged her to encourage him and instead replied, "Why, no. Of course not."

Daniel just managed to repress a skort if disgust. Damn the woman! Her voice had held not the thread of a quaver. Calm and steady as a rock when his own pulses were well and truly racing. He simply did not believe it. He glanced down into her wire brown eyes, guileless as ever, knowing that his exasperation was showing. For a fleeting instant, he saw a glimmer of amusement and, yes, triumph in the brown depths. But when he looked again, the pale face was once again devoid of emotion. His grey eyes narrowed.

Sophia saw his intent look and immediately dropped her eyes.

Her action confirmed Daniel's suspicions. By God, the chit was playing with him! The fact that Sophia could only be dimly aware of the reality of the danger she was flirting with was buried somewhere in the recessed of his mind. But, like all the Hammingtons, for him, desire could easily sweep aside all reason. In that instant, he determined he would have her, no matter what the cost. Not here, not now—neither place nor time was right. But some time, somewhere, Sophia Fleming would be his.

Amelia's attention was drawn by the sight of a mother gathering her two daughters and preparing to depart. As if all had been waiting for this signal, it suddenly seemed as if half the room was on their way. With relief, she turned to see Daniel lead Sophia from the alcove and head in her direction. As Margaret approached, closely followed by Emma and Maribella, Amelia Hillsborough wriggled her aching toes back into her slippers and rose. It was over. And in four days' time the Season would begin. As she smiled benignly upon the small army of gentlemen who had escorted her charges to her side, she reminded herself that, with the exception of Daniel Hammington, there was none present tonight who would make a chaperon uneasy. Once in wider society, she would have no time to be bored. The Fleming sisters would certainly see to that.