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her. She smiled radiantly and was rewarded to see the fellow actually stumble. Yes, she still had power over the gentlemen. It was her newfound honor that kept her from using it to the full as she once had. Surely Lord Nathaniel saw her as a lady.
    She took a deep breath and turned to see what might be keeping him. Moving inexorably toward her was her phantom. Her stomach jumped into her throat, but she stood her ground, willing him to vanish along with her other fears. He strode to her side but did not bother to bow again.
    “Good evening, Miss Watkin,” he said. She could only stare stupidly as he took her hand in his very solid grip and brought it to his lips. The warmth of his breath touched her through the silk of her long gloves. The pressure of his lips sent her stomach crashing back down again.
    He was real.
    He was back in London.
    He knew everything about her and had once shown himself black enough that he just might share it.
    Faced with such dire circumstances, she did the only thing a lady could do. She let her eyes roll back in her head and collapsed toward the floor in a faint.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Jareth caught her neatly, but not before cries of alarm rose on all sides. He quickly found himself the center of attention. He had hardly expected a welcome from Eloise, but he somehow hadn’t thought she’d be the one to faint from the encounter. He could think of nothing he had done to warrant such a reaction. Still, it was difficult to look like an innocent standing in the middle of Almack’s with a beautiful woman in his arms. By the expressions of the ladies around him, he was swiftly being painted the villain. He offered them his most winning smile as he shifted his grip on Eloise.
    “Heat fatigue,” he assured them all. He loosened one hand to pat her cheek. “Miss Watkin, are you all right?”
    He hadn’t expected a response and was surprised when her lips moved.
    “Go away.”
    He blinked and peered closer. Thick curling black lashes fanned out over alabaster cheeks. The only other spot of color was her soft, rose-toned lips. She always had been the most kissable female. That hadn’t changed. But now was hardly the time to find out if she still tasted as good as she looked.
    “Miss Watkin?” he tried again.
    She sighed and opened her eyes. Green as deep as a forest in summer nearly took his breath away. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.
    Jareth did so, and she wobbled to her feet. The ladies around them began talking all at once. The sound was no doubt supposed to be soothing, but Eloise turned so pale that he put a hand on her elbow to support her. She stiffened at his touch.
    “What happened?” someone cried, and Jareth looked up in time to see a pint-sized Amazon push her way through the crowd, a tall, dark-haired man at her heels. She had reddish-brown hair set in short curls around a pert face, and her well-molded bosom heaved with maidenly virtue. She didn’t fool him for a second. The last time he’d seen her, she’d had a pitchfork in her hand, and she hadn’t been afraid to use it. She seemed to have the same idea now.
    “You!” she declared, evidently recognizing him as well. It was all he could do to hold his ground. “Release her this instant,” she demanded.
    He would have been delighted to do so, but Eloise disengaged from him first. “Mr. Darby has no hold on me, Lady Hastings,” she said calmly.
    “Nor should he,” the Amazon maintained hotly.
    The tall gentleman, whom he took to be the Amazon’s husband, God have mercy on his soul, stepped forward and put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private, dearest.”
    She looked ready to protest, but evidently thought better of it. Perhaps it was the pointed look Eloise gave her. He could have kissed her for that. None of them needed another story circulating. Of course, he seemed to use kissing and Eloise in the same sentence far too easily.
    They started to move away,