“But you didn’t deign to respond,” Maia replied, attempting, rather admirably she thought, to keep her voice level. Although, due to the fact that they were in the midst of a rather large crush at the Lundhames’ annual summer ball, she did have to raise its volume to be heard over the conversation and music buffeting against them.

She and Angelica hadn’t chosen to attend this event merely because they expected Corvindale to be here; in fact, she rather assumed he wouldn’t bother to show at the Lundhames’ any more than he had lowered himself to respond to her letter. Everyone knew the earl was a recluse who cared only for ancient manuscripts and scraps of parchment.

But here he was. Lifting that dark brow and looking down at her from his excessive height as if he couldn’t spare the time to converse with her. Well, she fumed, the feeling was quite mutual.

“I consider the fact that we are conversing a fair response,” Corvindale replied. “Particularly since, as I recall, we’ve never been properly introduced.” His dark eyes gleamed.

Maia’s face, blast her fair skin, went warm, and likely pinker than the roses on the shoulders of her cornflower-blue gown. No, indeed, they hadn’t ever been formally introduced. But she certainly knew who he was—the tall, imposing man whose very presence at any social event was cause for the gossips to strain in their corsets to get a glimpse of him…let alone happen to speak with the rude, prideful earl.

And he certainly knew who she was…and not just because he and Chas had been business associates for years, and occasionally they’d attended the same events. She’d hoped that Corvindale hadn’t realized it was she during that horrid night at Haymarket she’d come to think of as the Incident.

Maia held her breath so that the flush would dissipate and tried not to meet his eyes. Surely he wouldn’t be rude enough to mention the Incident if he did realize it had been she. But he couldn’t have recognized her. After all, she’d been dressed like a boy.