Stolen by the Crown

til she could step outside the open door onto the large balcony that surrounded the upper floor. The night was pleasant, cloudless, and

he exclaimed. A man's voice came from behind her. "An illuminating display, Miss George." She whirled to face the witness, who was well hidden by the darkest shadows at the edge of the house. She couldn't see him, but she recognized who he was. She'd recognize that voice, the way he pronounced her name, anywhere. "Mister Xavier. I didn't realize you were present." If she had, she would have walked to a location where she could express her wrath in privacy. "That had occurred to me." His voice sounded amused. "Miss George, if you're going to be a governess, you're going to have to learn to control that temper." How did he know she wanted to be a governess? Someone had been talking about her. Or he had asked. Regardless, she was irritated. "I assure you, Mr. George, I keep my temper under very firm control." Usually. When I know I am being watched. "Really?" His footsteps were quiet, but his voice was closer. "I would have sworn I just observed a violent flare-up." He was a swine. But, what did she expect? She was aware of what he was. The Viscount Falmouth 's obnoxious son, a horseman, gambler, and philanderer from whom no lady was safe. "What are you doing out here?" Was there a woman with him in the shadows? Was he seducing someone, and she interrupted? "What was I doing out here?" His voice became rough and gloomy. "Much the same as you, Miss George, much the same as you." Was he out here to cool his temper? What may make him angry? When she met him that afternoon, he was irritated by both her and his sisters. "Your display made me long for a fan to break," the man stated. "That looked satisfying." He was correct. It felt fulfilling, though she regretted destroying the gorgeous, frivolous object that had cost her so much of her meager allowance, the only piece of her costume that was genuinely hers. He moved to stand beside her at the rail, and she could see him now: a dark shadow in black with a touch of white at his cravat, a face barely visible in the darkness, and eyes that watched her with unsettling intent. She was tall. He was taller. She took a deep breath. He had a pleasant, clean odor, similar to freshly cut grass and air. He behaved like a gentleman out here, alone and in the dark.But would a gentleman force her to clutch her fists in the silk of her skirt, mindful of the rasp of thin, chilly thread against the delicate skin of her fingertips? Would a gentleman make the sounds of music and conversation disappear from her mind? Would a gentleman make Lord Decius's memory insignificant? She thought not. "I should go back in." "To be further accosted by some doddering old fool?" So much for her assumption that he had not heard her outburst. She gathered her skirts and replied, "I shall take care to avoid doddering old fools." "And run away now to avoid me." "Don't flatter yourself," she napped. Hm. Perhaps her control was not so firm as she had intended. "I'm not avoiding you, sir; I'm doing what any young lady would do if confronted by a gentleman in a lonely place. I'm retreating to avoid rumors. Then