Author's Note- Hello everyone! I am still alive and have survived another school year! Woo! One step closer to being done. It also means that I will be (hopefully) updating more frequently. At least, that's my goal. I make no promises, but I will really try. The disclaimer is the same, I don't own the Tarzan story, just my OCs. Thank you to everyone has stuck with me so far. Enjoy this new chapter!

The man in front of her raised an eyebrow, "Guilty as charged."

The beginning chords of a waltz lilted through the ballroom. Greyson brought Amelia in gently and effortlessly pulled them both into the first steps.

"What do you think you are doing?" Amelia asked, calmly.

"Waltzing with you."

"It is unseemly for an unmarried woman to waltz with a man with whom she has no acquaintance," explained Amelia. Not that she expected him to listen. Rogues never listened.

"Well, I just assumed that since you knew my name we must have become acquainted at one point or another," he reasoned.

Amelia rolled her eyes, "The only thing about you that I am acquainted with are your infamous exploits."

It was meant to be a haughty set-down, but it was lessened by the fact that her feet decided that was when they were going to trip over themselves. Amelia stumbled and would have fallen if Greyson hadn't felt the mistake and tightened his grip on her bringing her even closer to him.

He raised one jet black eyebrow, but said nothing. Well, at least he had some sense of decorum. Amelia thanked whatever god was listening for that. The last thing she wanted to discuss was her lack of grace on the ballroom floor.

"So, might I inquire as to who I just saved from humiliation in front of hundreds on the dance floor?"

Apparently, her thanks had come to quick. It took a moment for Amelia to register what he had said past the insult.

"You don't know who I am?" She looked up from their feet to look at him, aghast.

"When I interrupted your introspection, I saw only a beautiful woman who had managed to circle her way to the center of the dance floor completely unnoticed. It didn't matter to me who that girl was, I only knew that I had to dance with you. I didn't know at the time that you didn't dance," he ended with a cheeky little grin that should have infuriated her. It didn't.

"So," he continued, "Will you tell me the name of the twirling chameleon?"

Amelia looked up at him. There was something about the way he had spoken to her, the way he had noticed her when no one else had, the way he cut to the quick of things without the normal flowery language of any rogue she had ever spoken with that made her think this man was just as much a chameleon as she was. She looked into his amber eyes and tried to see past the façade to the man behind it.

The music stopped and the spell was broken. Amelia realized that she was still in Greyson's arms. She quickly stepped away from him and curtsied. He bowed. As she was coming back up, their eyes met.

"Well?" he questioned.

Amelia held his gaze, saw the mischief in his eyes. She smiled and decided to meet his mischief with her own.

"What are names to rogues like you? For now, you may call me Chameleon."

She grinned up at him and spun around to make her exit, quickly disappearing into the crowd of dancers.

From across the ballroom, Archibald Delaney watched this unfold with a twinkle in his eyes. It seemed his young friend had finally met his match in his granddaughter. They would be good for each other. As long as both could overcome their pride. Delaney grinned. Things were about to get interesting.

Greyson watched the little chameleon flounce across the ballroom, weaving her way between couples. Her red curls bounced against her neck in an utterly beguiling way. He found himself entranced for a moment by those damn curls. He shook his head to expel these thoughts. He had the uneasy feeling that his life was about to get even more difficult.

Amelia made her way through the sea of couples. What had she been thinking? She flirted with a rogue. A rogue who could destroy months of planning with one dance. She had made a promise to herself and no mere man was going to keep her from staying true to that promise. Oh, but was he just a mere man? With those eyes and that hair, his Indian heritage was on full display. It had been a great scandal when his father had met, married, and had a child with a woman he had met while stationed in an Indian province.

She had almost made it to the double doors that would take her away from the man who could ruin everything and into the cleansing cold of the nighttime air when she was intercepted by the one woman she had been trying to avoid all evening. Lady Evelyn Burke, the mother of Pamela Burke, a friend of Amelia's. As much as Amelia claimed friendship to Pamela, the opposite was true for Lady Burke. They both hated each other in the only way woman of the ton could hate, silently.

"Little Melly, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. I had started to think that you had abandoned your own party in disgrace. We all remember what happened last month at Lady Jersey's ball," the malicious woman barbed.

Amelia cringed, she was never going to live that down. She had been asked to dance by Lord Blake's eldest son, Richard. Everything had been going fine until Amelia had stepped on her train and taken both herself and Richard down. That would have been embarrassing enough, unfortunately they had been dancing near the refreshment table and the punch bowl had broken their fall. The shattering of the glass had ensured that everyone witnessed her humiliation. She had disappeared into the gardens as soon as she could after that.

Coming back to the present, Amelia replied, "No, Lady Burke, merely trying to escape the aroma of snubbed feelings and empty promises that permeates any room in which the marriage mart is active in."

"Oh come now, little Melly, surely you do us a disservice. We are merely trying to ensure our daughters' futures. Your grandfather does you no good in allowing you to run as free as he has. No good may come of that."

"Maybe not, Lady Burke, but the gift my grandfather gives me in my freedom is worth a hundred well-made loveless matches. Goodnight, Lady Burke."

With that, Amelia spun away and quietly let herself outside.

The fresh, clean, cold air hit her face and everything was clear again. Tonight would be the night. Emmaline would be upstairs packing even as she walked towards her rose garden. The roses had been her mother's prized possession and had become hers in recent years. They allowed her to be outside in the fresh air, but still maintain that ever present air of propriety.

As she walked through them, she let her finger tips brush the petals.

For years her life had been dictated to her, by her grandmamma, her grandpapa, all of the mommas who thought they knew what was best for her, but no more. Tonight she would take control of her life. She would see the world.

Amelia slipped a hand into the hidden pocket in her dress to touch the letter it concealed.

If she was lucky, she would find the answers she seeked.