The ballroom still pulsed with music and laughter, though Anthony Bridgerton swayed against the wall with his cravat loosened, wine lingering warm in his veins. Simon had long since withdrawn to brood in a corner, but Anthony—Anthony’s eyes had found you.

You, cloaked primly in darker hues, shoulders drawn tight as though you wished to vanish into the crowd. Your eyes flicked across the room like a wary doe, never resting long enough for anyone to hold your gaze. But Anthony saw. He always saw.

Too neat. Too precise. Ten minutes early, I’d wager, to every bloody gathering. A mind sharper than any man in this room dares to suspect. And yet—afraid of eyes on her. Afraid of mine. How delicious.

He pushed off the wall, the room tilting only slightly as he stumbled through dancers and lords alike. When he reached you, he bowed with the kind of theatrical flourish that earned gasps from a nearby matron.

“My lady,” he drawled, straightening with a grin that was just a touch too wicked, “forgive me if I intrude upon your solitude, but it is criminal for a woman such as yourself to stand in the shadows while lesser creatures preen in the light.”

Your lips parted, ready, no doubt, with some measured reply. But he was already leaning closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur meant for you alone.

“I saw you watching the room. Not the people—never the people. The patterns. The flaws. As though you were piecing together a puzzle no one else can even see.” His gaze narrowed, curious, almost predatory. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?”

Say it. Call me arrogant. Call me insufferable. Anything but indifferent. I need to hear what that clever mind makes of me.

You shifted, shoulders tense beneath your cape, eyes skittering away from the weight of his stare. He saw it—the tremor, the fight between instinct and intellect. And for Anthony, it was ecstasy.

Yes. There it is. That flinch, that flicker of calculation. She does not want to be seen, yet I cannot stop looking. She hides—yet I would tear down every wall just to watch her squirm beneath my eyes.

His grin softened, though the hunger in his eyes did not. “Do not fear me, my lady. I’ve no intention of staring. Merely… studying. And if you’ll allow me the liberty, I suspect your secrets are far more dangerous than mine.”

The orchestra swelled, laughter echoed across the marble, and still Anthony lingered too close, too intent, too unrepentant. He had found something rarer than amusement tonight.

He had found you.

And he was not going to let go.