Her silent challenge caused a sudden, visible tension to grip his body. He stared back, his eyes glittering from the shadows of the mask. Long moments passed, time she barely registered because she was so focused on his response to her. Guests walked past him, momentarily obstructing her view and then revealing him again. His fists clenched along with his jaw. She saw his chest expand with a deep breath-

– just as she was bumped roughly from behind.

“Excuse me, Miss Benbridge.”

Startled, her gaze turned to identify the offending individual and found a wigged man wearing puce satin. She muttered a quick dismissal of his concern, managed a brief smile, and swiftly returned her attention to the masked man.

Who was gone.

She blinked rapidly. Gone. Lifting to her tiptoes, Amelia frantically searched the sea of people. He was tall and blessed with an impressive breadth of shoulder. His lack of a wig provided an additional means of identification, but she could not find him.

Where did he go?

“Amelia.”

The low, cultured drawl at her shoulder was dearly familiar, and she shot a quick, distracted glance at the handsome man who drew abreast of her. “Yes, my lord?”

“What are you looking for?” The Earl of Ware mimicked her pose, craning his neck in much the same fashion. Any other man would have looked ridiculous, but not Ware. It was impossible for him to appear anything less than perfect from the top of his wigged head down to his diamond-studded heels six feet below. “Would it be too much to hope that you were looking for me?”

Smiling sheepishly, Amelia abandoned her visual hunt and linked her arm with his. “I was seeking a phantom.”

“A phantom?” Through the eyeholes of his painted mask, his blue eyes laughed at her. Ware had two expressions-one of dangerous boredom and one of warm amusement. She was the only person in his life capable of inspiring the latter. “Was this a frightening specter? Or something more interesting?”