Too Dangerous to Desire
rather interesting young lady.”
    “Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
    They crossed through the square’s central garden and approached Gunter’s. The day had turned quite warm, and a crowd was gathering around the shop’s entrance, drawn by the cool promise of its rich treats.
    “Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Georgiana, waving to her sister and aunt. “They have managed to get one of the outdoor tables.”
    Heaving an inward sigh, Cameron reluctantly made his way through the swirl of pastel skirts. He had come here intending simply to observe Sophie from afar. But as he well knew, even the best-laid plan could go awry.
    “I met an old friend on the way here, and he offered to help me with my boxes,” said Georgiana to her aunt. “Surely you remember Sophie’s friend, Cameron. He’s the one who used to hurl rotten apples at your carriage, trying to knock the coachman’s hat off his head.”
    “I no longer employ fruit as a weapon,” he said, bowing over Hermione’s hand.
    “Ah. I am relieved to hear you are no longer dangerous, Mr.…”
    “Daggett,” supplied Cameron smoothly.
    Sophie coughed, and then looked up, her cheeks coloring slightly as she murmured a greeting.
    “Please join us, Mr. Daggett,” went on Hermione politely. “Would you care for some ice cream?”
    “Thank you, but I just dined.”
    “Then you may have a cup of coffee while we eat our confections.” Georgiana smiled sweetly. “I insist.”
    “Georgie, you are being impertinent. Mr. Daggett may have other, more pressing engagements,” said Sophie. She still hadn’t met his gaze.
    “Do you, Mr. Daggett?”
    “I…” Cameron caught sight of two gentlemen rounding the wrought iron fence. Hell and damnation . “As a matter of fact, I must run. I am already late—”
    Too late.
    “Well, fancy meeting you here, Daggett.” Gryff tipped his hat to the ladies before adding, “I wouldn’t have guessed that you have a secret craving for sweets.”
    “Actually, I was just leaving,” answered Cameron gruffly.
    Connor’s flash of teeth had a predatory gleam. “Oh, come. We can’t allow you to rush off with introducing us to your charming companions.”
    He had no choice but to comply.
    Hermione looked a little flustered at being introduced to an earl and a marquess. “W-would you gentlemen care to join us? Or am I transgressing some rule of protocol?”
    “Have no fear, Killingworth and I do not stand on ceremony,” said Gryff. “But alas, we have a previous engagement in the neighborhood.”
    Cameron had forgotten that Gryff’s publisher was just several streets away. A mental error—I will have to say sharper .
    “Perhaps some other time,” went on his friend. “Do you live in London, Mrs. Hillhouse?”
    “Yes, milord,” answered Hermione. “But my nieces live in Norfolk.”
    “The village of Terrington, near the sea,” volunteered Georgiana. “Sophie and Mr. Daggett were childhood friends.”
    Cameron had to quell the urge to pluck the faux cherries from her hat and stuff them down her throat.
    “Indeed?” Connor’s smile turned even more wolfish.
    Gryff let out an evil chuckle. “I confess, I have often wondered if, like the one of the goddesses in Greek mythology, he simply emerged fully formed from Zeus’s forehead.”
    “Or hatched from some devil-cursed dragon egg,” added Connor.
    “My goodness, Your Lordships certainly have very vivid imaginations, ha, ha, ha,” said Hermione.
    Cameron fixed them with a razored stare. “Yes, don’t they?”
    “Ha, ha, ha,” echoed Georgiana. Spotting the package of typeset proofs under Gryff’s arm, she craned her neck for a better look. “You don’t perchance write novels, do you, Lord Haddan?”
    “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”
    “I adore the ones with clanging chains, gruesome dungeons, and dastardly villains. Though I do find it a little silly that the heroines always keep falling in a dead faint when confronted with danger.” A pause.

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