Suddenly she understood precisely how a fly felt when it stumbled into the web of a spider.

“Dear heavens,” she whispered softly.

At last realizing that he had lost her attention, Lord Braceton turned to follow her gaze.

“What?”

“Who is that gentleman?” she demanded as she struggled to regain command of her shattered composure.

The older man heaved a heavy sigh. “Mr. Gideon Ravel. He just arrived in London with his two cousins from the Continent. Seems he’s related to some aristocratic family or other. They made quite a stir when they appeared at the Croswell’s ball last week.”

A shiver raced through her. She could imagine that this man would make a stir wherever he might be. Even now her guests were glancing in the stranger’s direction and whispering in low voices. Mr. Ravel remained splendidly unconcerned at the obvious interest in his arrival as he continued to regard her with that unwavering gaze.

Simone unconsciously squared her shoulders as she realized that she was staring at the man like a half-wit.

This was her home.

And no one entered it without her invitation.

No one.

“How the devil did he manage to get past Bartson?” she gritted in annoyance.

At her side Lord Braceton gave a shrug. “Perhaps he came with one of your other guests.”

“Impossible. Only those with invitations are allowed to enter. Excuse me.”

Without awaiting her companion’s response, Simone swept through the mingling crowd toward the gentleman watching her with that faintly mocking smile. At the same moment an elderly gentleman stepped to join the stranger, attempting to claim his attention, although that black gaze remained firmly trained upon her flushed countenance.

A rather cowardly urge to wait until he was once again alone swept through Simone before she was swiftly thrusting it aside.

What the blazes was wrong with her? She was no longer a cowering maiden who cringed at the mere hint of a threat. After the death of her sister she had refused to be frightened of anyone ever again.