“Good evening, my lady.”

Carolyn turned, and realized that even if she hadn’t known Lord Surbrooke’s voice, she would have known his eyes. They gazed at her through a black mask that covered the entire upper half of his face with the same heated intensity that stole the air from her lungs every time he looked at her. She’d have known his mouth as well. Not only because it was perfectly formed, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the upper, but because of how one corner tilted upward, skewing all that perfection with a hint of lopsidedness that shouldn’t have been attractive but was. Annoyingly so.

Her gaze skimmed over his all black highwayman costume. He looked tall and dark and dangerous--as if he were prepared to abscond with whatever might take his fancy and the consequences be damned. A thrill she couldn’t name raced through her.

“Rather than good evening, shouldn’t you say ‘stand and deliver’?” she retorted, proud that she sounded so calm when she suddenly felt anything but.

He made her a formal bow. “Of course. Although by ‘stand and deliver’ I actually mean ‘may I have this dance’?”