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The twinkle in her turquoise eyes belied her comment. She’d trusted Jason would come, just as he’d known she’d save the supper dance for him.

He bowed to her and Lady Keyworth, cognizant of the rapt female gazes trained on him. American women might be more outspoken and unhesitatingly voice their opinions, but British women undressed men with their eyes. Since arriving in London, Jason could’ve had a different woman warm his bed every night.

Certainly, he was no monk, but he wasn’t a libertine either. Casual sex with a stranger held no appeal.

“My grandmother insisted it was impolite to arrive on time,” he murmured, pointedly keeping his focus on the two women before him and not the frenzied whispering a few feet away. “An opinion I do not share.”

“I quite agree with you, Captain Steele,” Lady Keyworth said. “I cannot abide tardiness, even if it is de rigor.”

Jason extended his hand. “My dance, I believe, Miss Audsley.”

Lenora didn’t even glance toward her sister-in-law for affirmation that she might accept his offer. “I did promise you,” she said in her guileless, unpretentious way.

“You’d best hurry,” her ladyship murmured with a discreet shifting of her gaze behind them by way of a warning. “My husband approaches.”

A judicious woman.

At once, Jason clasped Lenora’s hand to help her rise. Without sparing a glance behind him, Jason led her in the opposite direction at a pace that might have been brisker than was entirely polite.

“Are we running away from my brother?” Lenora laughed huskily. “He’s truly not an ogre, Jason.”

“I refuse to let him steal what I’ve been anticipating for days.” Jason skillfully maneuvered them through the crowd toward the dance floor.

“Oh? And what is that?” the little minx asked far too innocently.

“Lenora, keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be whisking you into a private alcove to steal a kiss.”