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What unsettled him so?

He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

He drew out his pocket watch and stared at it, the numbers briefly blurring before they made sense.

It was past time for him to leave.

He took a step to do just that when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

“Wolverstone!” boomed Lord Hexley’s voice from behind.

Gideon tamped down his instinct to remove the man’s hand from him, to counter-attack… except this wasn’t an attack. So he clenched his jaw and turned to face the intruder.

“Just the man I was hoping to see,” Hexley said, beaming, the mysterious woman still on his arm.

Gideon forced a polite nod. “Hexley.”

“I’ve someone fascinating for you to meet: Lady Leila of Smyrna. Her husband is a Pasha, a diplomat from the Ottoman Empire, currently in London on political business, though unwell, poor fellow. I’ve taken it upon myself to introduce her to the right people.”

Gideon inclined his head. “Lady Leila of Smyrna.”

She raised her head to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“And this is the Duke of Wolverstone,” Hexley introduced.

“Your Grace,” she said, her voice low and melodic, touched with an accent that caressed each word. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Gideon replied smoothly.

“Hexley!” came Lord Norfolk’s loud, unpleasant voice. “I meant to speak with you all this time. Come…”

Hexley offered an apologetic shrug before the two men drifted away, leaving Gideon alone with Lady Leila.

Gideon’s gaze followed Norfolk as he led Hexley a few feet away. Did the two men have business dealings? Was Hexley one of the members of Norfolk’s loathsome society?

He couldn’t afford to get caught up in following them tonight.

Tonight, he had done his duty, and all he needed was to spend a few more minutes in the ballroom, visible to the guests, before leaving silently.

“What a beautiful ballroom, wouldn’t you say?” Lady Leila pulled him back from his thoughts. “The hostess clearly has wonderful taste. No doubt her other rooms are just as elegant.”

He found himself thinking that the bedroom was more cozy than elegant—not a place where he’d want to spend his nights.

“How are you finding London?” Gideon swiftly changed the subject.

“It is… fascinating,” she answered, her smile turning genuine and warm. “Very different from my home. Colder, yes, but there’s something romantic about the mist and shadows. But it’s also… less wild?” She chuckled lightly. “I don’t know the right word for this; apologies…”

“Tamed?” he offered.

“Yes!” Excitement sparkled in her dark eyes, making them shine like stars in the night. “Exactly. There is nature here, but it is tamed into these little squares. Smyrna is different. Chaotic. Wild.”

Gideon found himself leaning closer, drawn in by the husky richness of her voice. It was smooth as velvet—something he could wrap himself in, lean into, and lose himself within. “And which do you prefer? The wild or the tamed?”

She laughed airily. “Oh, I think there’s beauty in both. Sometimes we need wildness to feel truly alive, but…” Her dark eyes met his. “I believe restrained civility should not be ignored. There is passion behind it, I am certain. And given time, I like to strip it bare.”

Were they still talking about the cities? Gideon cleared his suddenly dry throat. “You must miss the sun here.”

“That I do,” she sighed, her expression momentarily wistful. “The sun there touches everything. And the sea… Although beautiful, the tame rivers and lakes cannot compare to the wilderness of the sea. The waves, the creatures within, the vibrant blue color—I miss it the most.” She paused, her glittering gaze regaining focus, a smile returning to her face. “And my şalvar.”