She felt his attention turn as she directed.

“Yes.”

“The dark-clad gentleman is the one who held such interest in me earlier.”

The earl looked at her in all seriousness. “You made light of the matter, but now I am concerned. Was this man an annoyance to you?”

“No.” Her gaze narrowed as the two men parted and set off in opposite directions-the phantom away from her, the other man toward her.

“Yet something about him disturbs you.” Ware rearranged her grasping hand to rest upon his forearm. “And his assignation over there is curious.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Despite the years that have passed since you were freed from your father’s care, I feel caution would be wise. When one has an infamous criminal for a relation, every unknown is suspect. We cannot have odd characters following you about.” Ware led her quickly up the steps. “Perhaps you should stay close to me for the remainder of the evening.”

“I have no cause to fear him,” she argued without heat. “I think it is more my reaction to him that surprises me, as opposed to his interest in me.”

“You had a reaction to him?” Ware paused just inside the door and drew her to the side, out of the way of those who entered and exited. “What sort of reaction?”

Amelia lifted her mask to her face. How could she explain that she had admired the man’s powerful frame and presence without lending more weight to the sentiment than it deserved? “I was intrigued. I wished he would approach me and reveal himself.”

“Should I be concerned that another man so quickly captured your imagination?” The earl’s drawling voice was laced with amusement.

“No.” She smiled. The comfort of their friendship was priceless to her. “Just as I do not worry when you take interest in other females.”

“Lord Ware.”

They both turned to face the gentleman who approached, a person whose distinctively short and portly frame made him recognizable despite his mask-Sir Harold Bingham, a Bow Street magistrate.