Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante. Bronwyn Scott

her a reason to cross the pathway to join him. ‘Give me a moment with Mr Agyros, please. There are a few things I need to explain to him.’ His eyes were hard, looking past her to Christoph. Lilya complied, sensing argument would only serve to make her look foolish and to encourage Christoph. If she protested, Christoph would think she’d welcomed the kiss. With what she hoped looked like dignity, Lilya walked a discreet distance up the path and left Beldon to his ‘business’.

      Beldon’s explanations did not take long and he soon materialised by her side. ‘What, precisely, did you explain to Mr Agyros?’ Lilya enquired, trying to sound affronted. The idea of Beldon meddling in her affairs left her feeling foolish in his presence. No doubt he considered her lacking in all sense to be caught almost-kissing an almost-stranger, especially when he knew she’d been wary of Mr Agyros in the park. He would wonder what kind of woman kissed a man she didn’t trust or necessarily know.

      ‘I explained to him that in our part of the world, a gentleman does not steal kisses on such short acquaintance and that a woman’s reputation is taken most seriously.’

      She heard the message hidden there for her. Real gentlemen protected a woman’s reputation for her, but a woman had to guard her reputation as well. Lilya flushed at the subtle scolding.

      Beldon’s demeanour relaxed slightly. ‘It’s only that Val left me in charge. I would see you treated with the respect you deserve.’ He paused, leaning his head close to her ear, his breath against her ear lobe sending a skittering sensation to her stomach. ‘And I could see that you did not wish for things to progress further.’

      She heard forgiveness in his words. He had not missed any of the nuances. He’d understood perfectly what had happened in the garden.

      ‘No one kisses a woman against her will under my protection.’

      There was a surprising ferocity in the hard set of his features that mirrored the power of his words. He was studying her with a male intensity that went beyond the scrutiny of a chaperon. For a moment, she envisioned she saw desire in his eyes, a desire for her that went beyond protection. Then it was gone. Of course, she must have been mistaken. He meant to pursue another. She’d seen him dancing with Lady Eleanor, all manners, nothing at all like the feral male who strode beside her now, his vaunted self-control threatening to slip its leash. All for her.

      ‘Exactly what dance are we dancing?’ Lilya attempted levity, hoping to restore her senses. She and Beldon were not themselves tonight. Beldon was a caged tiger, bristling with barely leashed fury. And she was no better, shivering at the sound of his voice near her ear, imagining hot desire in his eyes and, worse yet, welcoming it, wondering over it like the gaggles of women in the ballrooms who followed him everywhere with their eyes.

      ‘A polka, I believe.’ Beldon placed a hand at the small of her back to usher her through the door, his urbane manners reappearing the moment he set foot on the dance floor with her, the leash firmly back on his emotions. She envied him the ease with which he segued into politeness. No one would guess minutes ago he’d been out in the garden defending her jeopardised honour.

      Lilya was glad the dance was a whirling polka, demanding all her energy. There wasn’t time to talk, only to dance, and yet even then she was conscious of Beldon’s every move: the flex of his shoulders, the muscles of his legs as they progressed through the steps. Perhaps it was a consequence of the Season and everyone being excessively marriage-minded that one couldn’t help but consider every male as a possible mate, even ones that were off limits. For her, that meant all of them, but especially Beldon. This was the worst possible time to be distracted; Greece was poised on the brink of independence and a Phanariot stranger had sought out her attentions. It was definitely time to strap on a dagger.

       Chapter Four

      Christoph Agyros let himself out by way of the back gate. He would not be missed and he had much to think about. The Filiki Adamao, the Brotherhood of the Diamond, would be pleased to know he’d completed the first part of his mission: to locate the daughter of Dimitri Stefanov. The Stefanovs were one of the names that came up repeatedly throughout history where the diamond was concerned. He’d been dispatched to hunt her down once she’d disappeared. There were other names, too. It was not a guarantee the Stefanovs were the keepers of the diamond. Others had been sent to explore those avenues. Now it was up to luck.

      The next step was to determine if she had the diamond. Christoph hoped so. He did not like to think he’d journeyed this far only to meet a red herring. If it was his quarry that possessed the diamond, the possibilities were endless. He whistled in the darkness, trying to keep his thoughts from getting too far ahead.

      The Filiki Adamao wanted the diamond for political reasons. They wanted the financial leverage to influence the next ruler, to set themselves up as the power behind the throne. They were a sentimental lot of older men. Sentiment and patriotism had its place, of course. But Christoph Agyros had a better cause: himself.

      The idea had come to him during one of the many cold nights he’d spent on the road in inferior inns. He could claim the diamond for himself. After all, what had those old men done to retrieve the diamond? They’d plotted and planned, but in the end he’d endured the hardships. He’d been the one to attach himself to the Macedonian attaché once he’d arrived in London, a stroke of genius in hindsight. It had allowed him entrée into Lilya Stefanov’s world—her very wealthy, privileged world.

      The pretty Phanariot had done well for herself. Once the usual hiding places had been exhausted, the Filiki Adamao had suspected she’d run to England and her father’s old friend. It was a long way to run, especially for a young woman alone. There had been some hope she’d be waylaid on the road, but she’d managed to reach England intact.

      It didn’t matter how far she ran. He’d find her. Now that he’d seen her, a new plan was forming; if she had the diamond, he’d marry her. She might not even know he was after the diamond. She might believe he loved her. Women liked to believe in that twaddle and he was good at convincing them he did, too. It would, unfortunately, be a short marriage. The phrase ‘until death to us part’ was quite ambiguous about the length of the marital partnership. But at least it would be consummated. He would pay special attention to that detail.

      The next step would be to court her with every ounce of his charm. He would make it a whirlwind romance, one that could justify a hasty marriage and quick departure back to the homeland in August, while attempting to ascertain her possession of the diamond. All this would be easier without her fierce protector. Lord Pendennys had made his position quite clear tonight. Christoph kicked at a loose pebble. It wasn’t the first time Pendennys had shown an interest in Miss Stefanov. Christoph had been aware of Pendennys watching them that first day in the park.

      Christoph shrugged in the darkness. If she didn’t have the diamond, Pendennys could have her. But if she did, nothing would stand in his way, not even the good baron.

      Beldon gave his cravat a final tug for good measure and shrugged into the carefully pressed morning coat of chocolate-brown superfine. It was time to step up his London campaign, as he was starting to refer to his plans for the Season. To do so, he needed to go shopping.

      Beldon turned to his valet and took the driving gloves he offered. ‘Thank you, Fredericks. I can handle everything from here.’ He took the stairs with a rapid step, something shopping had never engendered in him before. But today was different. He was going to pick out a sincerity piece for Eleanor Braithmore and by doing so, firmly put errant thoughts of Lilya out of his mind. Goodness knew there were a million of them.

      When he wasn’t thinking of dancing with her, he was thinking of finding her in Christoph Agyros’s arms, willowy and elegant, every man’s most kissable fantasy with her head tilted up just so, her lips slightly parted. That particular sight had filled him with unmitigated fury. She had not looked fully committed to the idea of that kiss when he’d come upon them. Even if she had, he would have felt compelled to stop it. He was the chaperon, after all. He had his duties.

      At least that’s what he told himself.

      In his more