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Amelia’s eyes brightened. “Because you dislike surprises?”

He shook his head. “Because I generally prefer to know what I am agreeing to.”

“How sensible of you.” She tilted her head.

He heard the challenge and smiled. “And you?”

She looked down at the fan in her lap. Her fingers moved once over the painted silk, a small, hesitant motion, before she answered. “I have never done that either.”

“Arranged an evening?” He pushed for clarification.

“Arranged one solely to please myself, with a gentleman willing to let me.”

He had no clever answer. The words lodged in his chest, and he held them there carefully, as one holds something fragile. He could imagine why she had not. He could also imagine how easily a man might claim to offer such freedom while expecting her to spend the evening pleasing him. His own remark in the card room returned to him, far less amusing than it had been then. Shame stirred, quiet and uncomfortable, and beneath it a fierce, unexpected wish to be the exception.

“I would be willing,” he said.

Her gaze lifted quickly. “You do not know what I might ask.”

“You could tell me,” he said.

She raised both brows. “That rather spoils the surprise.”

“Then we shall have to establish what I am agreeing to without spoiling it.”

Amelia watched him for several moments. He held her gaze and let her look, though his heart beat hard against his ribs. He had the strange impression that she was considering something she had wanted before he ever entered her evening, something she had carried alone for a long while.

Then her expression warmed, and the last of her wariness melted into something bright and daring. “Three evenings,” she said.

Dominic’s pulse quickened. “You have been giving this thought.”

“I am giving it thought now. Do not interrupt.”

He settled back, smiling, though his fingers had curled around the chair arms. “I shall endeavor to restrain myself.”

“The first shall be mine to arrange. The second yours. For the third, we each contribute something.” She paused, apparently considering the idea, a faint line forming between her brows. “An experience the other has never had. Something we believe will please them.”

“And the purpose?” he asked.

“To discover whether your talents extend beyond looking handsome and saying agreeable things.”

She winked. She bloody winked, and he knew then he would agree to anything she offered. “I should object to that assessment.”

“Would you prefer that I thought you ugly?” she asked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. He appreciated her honesty and cheekiness.

He laughed. “No.”

“Then accept your advantages gracefully,” she told him.

She was flirting with him now. Deliberately, unmistakably, and with a pleasure that made him want to draw his chair closer. He wanted his knee to brush her skirts and her fragrance to wrap around him. He kept it where it was, though the effort cost him. “You propose a wager,” he said.

“No,” she shook her head. “I propose an experiment.”

“A wager would make it more interesting.” He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn’t want it to end.

Amelia tipped her head, a pale curl sliding along her neck. “You are very certain of yourself.”

“Considerably less so than when the evening began.”