Lady Mabel Quint was stealing a pear when she first met the Duke of Caldermir. She did not know he was a duke. She did not care.
The pear was the only fruit on the table that had not been sliced, drowned in syrup, or crowned with a tiny sugar hat. Mabel considered this a moral outrage. She reached for it; her sleeve caught on a chair. The chair dragged the tablecloth. The tablecloth pulled a bowl of punch toward the edge. Mabel caught the bowl against her stomach and saved the pear at the same time.A porcelain swan tilted forward and fell into the punch.Three ladies gasped. One dowager closed her eyes. A footman stared as if Mabel had just declared war on England.Mabel removed the swan and placed it on a napkin. "Good," Mabel murmured. "Now it can bathe."Someone behind her laughed.Mabel turned. The man was tall, dark-haired, and far too expensive for the room. His coat fit him like a warning. His face was handsome in a severe way—the sort of face that made people lower their voices without knowing why.The man glanced at the pear in her hand. "You are hiding fruit."Mabel hid the pear behind her back. "I am protecting it."The man raised one eyebrow. "From whom?"Mabel lifted her chin. "From the swan."The man looked at the fallen swan. "It appears to have lost."Mabel smiled slightly. "It had help."The man folded his arms. "Did it?"Mabel nodded once. "It fell with dignity."The man almost smiled. Mabel saw it happen: the corner of his mouth moved, then stopped, as if smiling were a crime he had learned to avoid in public.Mabel tilted her head. "You have a very sudden face."The man blinked. "I beg your pardon?"Mabel studied him. "You look severe until you smile. Then you look like a man who has stolen something and hopes nobody noticed."The man straightened his coat. "I have stolen nothing."Mabel walked past him. "Not yet."The man stood there for a moment. He had been admired by duchesses, pursued by heiresses, and once cornered by a viscountess beside a fountain. None of them had ever accused him of planning a theft.He followed her. He told himself it was because she had walked through a door marked private. That was not the reason.Mabel continued down a narrow passage. She moved with the calm confidence of a woman who had already accepted that she was lost. She intended to make the building feel embarrassed about it.The man stepped beside her. "You're going the wrong way."Mabel stopped. "That is encouraging. I was afraid I'd found the servants' pantry."The man glanced at the shelves. "You have found the linen cupboard."Mabel looked at the shelves. "Then the linens are very well buttered."The man looked at the plate in her hand. "You brought the pear."Mabel held it up. "It survived bravely."