Preston took another sip of his punch as he watched Amelia swirling around on the dancefloor. She looked beautiful as she laughed at something her dance partner said, the twinkle in her eyes visible even from a distance. As the daughter of a duke, she was immensely popular, and it was beyond his comprehension how she would feel the need to pursue one particular gentleman. Most bachelors of the ton would be happy to cut off their right hand to marry her. And yet she had chosen the one who had proclaimed time and time again he had no interest in finding himself a wife.

She never did shy away from a challenge. He smiled wryly to himself. Finishing off his drink, he put the empty glass to the side. He should probably stop drinking. That wasn't his first—nor second—of the evening, and whoever had mixed the punch had not skimped on the liquor. By now, he was feeling quite merry indeed.

The hour was growing late—or early, depending on how you viewed it—and he had danced twice with Amelia as requested. Her aunt had spent the evening half-asleep or talking to her friends, paying little heed to her charge, leaving him feeling somewhat responsible for his friend's little sister and unable to keep his gaze from returning to her to ensure she was safe. At least that's what he liked to think was the reason, but even he knew better.

"Leighton!"

He looked away from the dancefloor to see James Grafton, Viscount Gowthorpe and the Marquess of Pensington coming towards him. As they came up to him, the viscount smiled. "Leighton, will you be at White's tomorrow? We need a fourth for cards."

"Yes, I will be there in the evening."

"Good. Good." The blond viscount shifted from one foot to the other as he glanced out at the dancefloor, giving Preston the sense that he was itching to ask something else.

"Was there anything else?" he asked casually.

Gowthorpe's blue eyes turned back to him. "I saw you danced twice with Lady Amelia Warble," he said. "Are you courting her?"

Preston raised an eyebrow. "Two dances is perfectly acceptable."

"True," the dark-haired marquess joined in with a slight smile. "But you have never danced twice with any lady before."

"She's Lord Adrian's sister." Preston shrugged, then remembered his promise to Amelia. He was meant to make Pensington believe she might be off the market soon. "But yes, there might be some interest from my side."

Saying it out loud felt odd. It was meant to be a lie, but it was anything but. If anything, it was an understatement.

Gowthorpe grinned. "I thought as much."

"I doubt she'll have me," Preston heard himself say, and instantly wanted to kick himself. "She's the daughter of a duke and I a mere viscount."

"You never know," Pensington said. "They say love is blind."

"What do you know about love?" Gowthorpe scoffed.

"Enough to know I want nothing to do with it." Pensington turned to the room to watch as the dance had ended and another started. "I cannot believe it is not long until I have to attend all the events with my sister. As it is, I try to get away with attending one every fortnight, but that will not stand once Jessica has her coming-out ball."

Preston couldn't imagine the stress of having to escort a sister around the London Season. Ensuring that she made an advantageous match and did not find herself in a situation that ruined her reputation and possibly that of her family. He had found it stressful enough half-watching Amelia for one evening. And the marquess had three sisters.

"You might find love escorting Jessica to all those balls." Gowthorpe chuckled. "I am certain that is what your aunt is hoping for."

"Most likely," the marquess admitted with a wry smile. "I must disappoint Aunt Jane as I have no such plans."

"I doubt you get to choose," Gowthorpe said. "Some marriage-minded mama will set her sights on you and ensure you marry her daughter."

Pensington turned his head to look at them, his nose crinkled in dismay. "You are both bachelors as well. Surely you will wish to steer clear of the fray too?"

Gowthorpe shrugged. "There are a few who send their daughters my way, hoping to catch my attention, as I'm certain Leighton here has too. But you are a marquess, and as such, you are much juicier prey."

"Please do not describe me as 'juicy prey'," the marquess muttered.

"Calling it as I see it." Gowthorpe grinned.

For what felt like the millionth time that evening, Preston's eyes searched the room for Amelia. Only this time, he did not see her. He frowned. Where could she have gone? The doors to the garden were open to provide some fresh air, and some couples had gone out for a stroll. She shouldn't have gone by herself, as that was not safe. But what if she had?

"Please excuse me," he said with a quick bow to the other men.

A moment later, he walked through the door to the garden. The cool night air felt great after the stifling ballroom, and he stopped to take a deep breath. There were people walking along the garden paths, but no sign of Amelia.

"Leighton!"

He turned his head as Amelia came out from some shadows by the edge of the terrace. A rush of relief coursed through him, even if he wasn't sure why. What did he think had happened, really?

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You disappeared."

"I wanted a spot of fresh air." She shrugged. "Now that you're here, would you like to go for a stroll? It seems like the sort of thing someone might do if courting."

"Yes," he agreed wryly. "If you are planning to sneak away for a kiss."

A light blush stained her cheeks. "Oh. Is that what they are all doing?" She came up to stand next to him by the terrace railing and they watched the blurry shapes moving in the darkened garden.

"Maybe not all," he allowed. "But certainly quite a few."

A small grin played on her lips. "How scandalous."

"Only if you're caught."

Her gaze flew to his, her eyes wider than usual. The noise of the ball behind them was the only sound for a moment before she pursed her lips. "Do you often take ladies out in the garden for scandalous deeds?" she asked.

He frowned. "Why?"

"You are a rake. Isn't that what you do?" The question sounded innocent enough, but he couldn't escape the feeling she was silently laughing at him.

Deciding to play her game, he nodded. "Occasionally. But a garden during a ball does not offer much privacy so you may share a kiss at best." He leaned a little closer, and the flowery scent of her perfume tickled his nose. "I prefer to have my company alone so that I may offer my full attention."

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "So you're saying a kiss from you is not enough to convince them of your skills?"

A surprised bark of laughter escaped him as he straightened. "You are incorrigible, Lady Amelia."

Turning around so her back pressed against the terrace railing, she smiled up at him. "So I'm told. But you did not answer my question."

"Oh, trust me," he drawled. "Most women I kiss are more than happy to meet me somewhere private later."

Her cheeks darkened as she looked away, feigning interest in the ballroom behind him. He was rather pleased to have flustered her. It did not happen easily. That he had struggled to be with any woman since he realised he loved her was a piece of information he would never share. For a rake, he was quite the disgrace these days.

"The Marquess of Pensington is watching us," Amelia mumbled. "Let us go for a stroll so he may think you will kiss me."

Preston groaned inwardly. There might be others walking the gardens, but he did not relish the idea of taking Amelia for a walk in the dark. The few lanterns hanging from the apple trees still left plenty of dark corners where one could slip in and share a secret kiss. Something he desperately wanted to do but never could. He never should have agreed to this foolishness. Pensington seemed rather intent on not marrying any time soon, so it was all in vain.

"Leighton?" Amelia's soft voice cut through his thoughts, and he smiled wryly.

"If we are meant to be courting," he said slowly. "Perhaps it is time for you to address me by my given name."

"Really, we should not do so until engaged," she pointed out, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "However, I am more than happy to call you by your first name in private. And you may use mine, of course."

"Thank you, Amelia." He winked at her, and the hint of a smile blossomed into a full-blown grin.

"So, will you go for a stroll with me, Preston?"

He had not expected to feel so affected by hearing her utter his name, but he loved the way it sounded on her lips. Silently, he offered her his arm and as she took it, the light touch of her hand on him was enough to make him want to drag her into one of those dark parts of the garden and show her exactly how good his kissing was.

This had been a terrible idea.

~~~~~~