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He left the dressing room and crossed to the door.

“You’re leaving?” Vivienne asked, surprise in her voice. What did she expect?

He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I did everything I needed to.”

There was no answer, and Gideon didn’t wait for one. He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

He’d done what he came to this ball to do.

Now he just needed to linger a little longer, chat with a few more guests, and ensure he’d been seen. He made his way back to the ballroom.

Soon, he could return home. Relax.

Sit in his chair… in the dark.

Alone.

He weaved through the crowd, pausing here and there to exchange pleasantries with one couple after another, ensuring he was seen by as many people as possible.

That should be enough exposure, surely. People would remember he’d been in the ballroom, and anyone who had noted his earlier absence would soon hear about his tryst with Lady Hardgrove.

Gideon positioned himself near the refreshments table, accepting a glass of wine he had no intention of drinking. His gaze drifted across the ballroom, mentally counting down the seconds.

His eyes landed on Norfolk, his wife on his arm, flanked by his two unmarried daughters. Lately, he had not been seen in public without them. Many whispered about his sudden, unusually family-oriented behavior, but Gideon knew better. He was using them as a shield.

Hiding in plain sight.

Hiding from Gideon, even if he didn’t realize it.

Gideon looked away. He didn’t want to be caught glaring daggers at the man.

Lord Payne stood unusually close to his wife—unusual for anyone else, but not for them, he recently realized. They were known for having a rather intimate marriage.

Gideon couldn’t help but feel a pang of… jealousy? Some bitter emotion that reminded him of what had been and what could never be again.

Just then, Vivienne appeared in the ballroom, dressed in a deep violet gown with matching flowers tucked into her towering white wig. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on a circle of her female friends—no doubt eager to regale them with her scandalous tale, embellishing every detail.

She began her slow, deliberate approach, stopping to exchange pleasantries with various guests along the way.

Gideon resumed his idle perusal of the ballroom. A few more minutes, and he could take his leave.

His gaze skimmed lazily over the sea of powdered faces. The Duke of Kensington was dancing with his wife; Miss Charlotte Jones, an aspiring opera singer, was speaking animatedly with Lady Payne; and Mr. Townsend was in the act of slipping away from the ballroom with Miss Nicolette Burke, no doubt for a midnight tryst. How had he managed to snag a popular actress whose former protector was one of the most powerful dukes? Gideon didn’t know. Perhaps this was a short liaison rather than a long-term arrangement. Miss Burke had high aspirations and hadn’t had a steady affair since losing Kensington to his wife.

Then his gaze landed on a face he didn’t recognize.

A woman.

A stranger. Someone he was certain he’d never seen before.

She glided across the room on Lord Hexley’s arm, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed her sooner, for she stood out like an emerald among pearls.

Her attire was unlike anything the other women wore—a long-sleeved, coat-like garment in a striking shade of green, embroidered with gold, draped over a beige ball gown. Stranger still was her headwear: not the towering wigs favored by English ladies, but a simple cloth trimmed with delicate gold coins that shimmered with her every step.

But it wasn’t the clothing that held Gideon’s attention.

It was something else.

Her beauty?