I hadn’t expected to see him at the Chestertons’ ball. At least, that’s what I had told myself.

If I wore my best gown, a pale blue with double-lined panniers and a lace-bordered décolletage, it was mere coincidence. My hair was powdered and strands of pearls were inserted amidst the twisted ringlets. But I didn’t tell the maid to go to any great lengths. I couldn’t help it if she felt like being creative.

Louisa said I looked very fine and Isabella muttered no doubt Lord Windham would agree. I resisted the urge to kick my darling cousin and thanked them both.

Isabella lent me her prized fan, one made entirely of lace which de Grave had specially made for her in Brussels. I promised her I would treat it with care and not resort to any violence against it. In any event, I would try my very best.

When the three of us made our entrance, my eyes seemed to develop a life of their own. They scanned the ballroom until they found a pair of dark eyes. Despite myself, a sigh escaped my lips.