“Not too soon. It’s yours. And my supper set, too, if you want it.”

  “I want all your dances, Kate, but tonight, I shall try to be satisfied with just the two.”

  My stomach swooped at his words, and I clutched the railing to steady myself.

  Oliver offered me his arm, and I relished his nearness as he helped me descend the remaining stairs and walk to where Hannah and Lord Jennings waited in the entrance hall.

  “I told you that you would want your surprise,” Hannah whispered in my ear, and then to the group, “Here are your masks.” Mine was made of heavily starched black lace and was decorated with glass beads. Oliver’s mask was also black but was made of satin and had no embellishments. “Hurry and put them on. The guests will be here any moment,” Hannah said.

  Oliver held up his mask to me. “Help me?”

  I nodded, and he turned to allow me to tie it. I took my time, enjoying the feel of my hands in his soft hair. When I was finished, he turned to face me, and I held up my mask. “Will you tie mine?”

  “Do you want me to?” He glanced at my hair. “I understand if you would rather have Hannah—”

  “You,” I said and turned so that he might tie it.

  I felt his warmth first as he stepped close and then a tickle of touch as he took the strings. His fingers were careful, too careful to be tying a proper bow. I understood why, considering how I’d reacted when he’d playfully pulled my plait that evening over cards. But so much had changed since then. I longed to feel his fingers in my hair.

  I reached behind me and guided his hands into my hair.

  Oliver inhaled sharply, his hands stilled for a second, then they resumed tying. When he was finished, he lightly trailed his fingers down the side of my face, touching a tendril near my temple. The sensation sent a wave of warmth down my neck that spread throughout my body.

  “You look so lovely tonight, Kate,” Oliver whispered in my ear. And then he straightened and stepped back.

  Beside us, Hannah smiled up at her husband. I would not have noticed her nervousness had she not said anything, but I saw it now.

  Lord Jennings wrapped his arm around her waist in reassurance.

  A knock came at the door, and my heart jumped.

  “That should be Lady Margaret or the Athertons. Our dearest friends,” Hannah said. “I asked them to arrive early, thinking you might be more comfortable surrounded by a group of friendly faces.”

  I smiled, grateful. “I’m sure I will be.”

  “I’ve briefly told them your story so that they, too, might make you feel more comfortable,” Hannah said.

  “I am grateful. Thank you.”

  Lord Jennings nodded to the butler to open the door.

  The Athertons were the first to arrive. As soon as they walked in the door and saw Oliver, they went straight to him, eager to welcome him home. After, Lord Jennings introduced me to Miss Atherton, who insisted I call her Amelia, and her brother, Lord Atherton, or Frederick, as he demanded everyone call him. With their fiery red hair and personalities to match, I liked them both immediately.

  Lady Margaret arrived shortly after. She looked every bit the daughter of a duke and had the manners to match her station, but she was kind and warm and gracious, and I could not have liked her more.

  Lord Jennings and Hannah led our small company into the impressive ballroom, and I held tight to Oliver’s arm. Candlelight flickered in the full-length mirrors that covered the windows and bathed the room in light. We claimed a quiet corner.

  As hosts, Lord Jennings and Hannah stood at the ballroom door to greet their guests as they arrived.

  The room quickly filled with people, noise, and heat.

  Someone appeared at Oliver’s side, a gentleman, to pull him away. Oliver hesitated, glancing at me, and I motioned that he should go. He moved only a few paces away but stood within sight. I stayed with Amelia, Lady Margaret, and Frederick. They chatted as only old friends could, but somehow, they still made me feel seen, heard, and important.

  I watched Oliver talk to the gentleman and a few other people. Friends, I realized, from their shared smiles. Oliver moved effortlessly, fluidly, from one person to the next, all eager to hear of his Grand Tour. He talked and teased, then turned to the next person waiting for his attention and did it all again.

  It was mesmerizing.

  He seemed so confident, so carefree.

  I could not look away.

  Lady Margaret, who stood beside me, followed my gaze. “Mr. Jennings is handsome, is he not?”

  My cheeks warmed, and I was glad I wore a mask to hide it. “He does look quite dashing,” I agreed, then added, “I daresay he knows it.”

  “I daresay he does.” Lady Margaret grinned. “But perhaps his confidence is part of his charm.”

  Perhaps it was. The self-possessed way in which he carried himself was undeniably attractive. I just did not like that I was not the only one to appreciate his fine qualities.

  Finally, the first set was announced, and Oliver came to claim his dance.

  I could hardly believe we were standing in this crowded ballroom together, taking our places across from one another. The first dance was a reel, and we had but a moment alone to talk, with all the turning. We managed a few well-timed touches, but that was all.

  The second dance was a country dance. We stood in two lines, women on one side and men on the other. When the music began, Oliver bowed, and I curtsied. We danced only a few forms together, but he was an excellent dancer. He executed everything perfectly and even seemed to enjoy it. I suspected that might be because he’d had many opportunities to dance and with whatever woman he desired.

  Women were always watching him. Did he feel their stolen stares? Did he enjoy their attention?

  Then it was time to move down the line and dance with the next man. Frederick. He was also a graceful dancer, though he did not seem to enjoy it. Poor fellow.

  And down the line I went, moving farther and farther from Oliver.

  Finally, I reached the end of the line. I curtsied to my last partner, and the stranger stiffly bowed. I felt his eyes upon me, hot as a brand. He did not say or do anything untoward, but I was so unaccustomed to the attention of men that I felt uncomfortable.

  After we executed our last forms together, I was glad to resume my original position across from Oliver. Standing with him, I felt safe and serene again.

  When the dance was over, Oliver offered me his arm and led me back to our group.

  Amelia’s brother, Frederick, asked for my next set. He was a proficient partner and an excellent conversationalist, but my gaze kept drifting to Oliver, who was dancing with Amelia. They seemed to converse continuously. They had an easy rapport, so I thought they must know each other quite well.

  After their set, Oliver returned her to our circle and stood beside me. Too soon, though, the next set was announced. I didn’t wish to dance with any other men, but Oliver continued dancing with other women. He was doing his duty as a gentleman, and as a favor to Hannah, but I still did not like watching it. Now, for a waltz, he partnered with a blonde-haired woman who had a petite figure and low-cut dress.

  Amelia and Lady Margaret shared an annoyed look across our small circle.

  “I do hate seeing Miss Digby claw at Oliver,” Amelia said.

  Frederick sighed theatrically. “Well, had you accepted his proposal, you would not have to.”

  I stiffened. Oliver had proposed to Amelia too?

  Amelia took notice of my discomfort; everyone in our group did.

  “You know that it was more of a business proposal,” Amelia said to her brother, but it was obvious her words were meant for me.

  I blew out a breath. First, he’d proposed to Hannah, then later to Amelia. “Is there anyone Oliver has not proposed to?”

  Amelia winced. “Well . . . he has not proposed to Miss Digby.”

  “Not yet,” Frederick said. “But the night is still young.”

  I liked Frederick’s teasing tone nearly as much as his foppish fashion, but it was not enough to distract me from watching Oliver waltz with this Digby woman.

  “You don’t think he would marry her, do you?” Lady Margaret said.

  “She would like nothing better,” Amelia said. “But no matter how large her dowry, I don’t think he would make the mistake of courting her again.”

  “He courted her too?” Was Oliver something of a rake?

  I felt faint. No. I felt like I was seeing Oliver’s future play out in front of me. One day, he would marry. He would take a woman to wife, a woman who was not me.

  I looked around the room for Hannah. By some miracle, I caught her eye, and she must have seen my distress, because she excused herself from her current conversation and came to me.

  “Is there somewhere quiet I can sit? I need a moment.”

  Hannah glanced to where Oliver was dancing with Miss Digby and frowned. “That woman.” She took hold of my hand and led me from the ballroom. But the entrance hall was nearly as crowded as the ballroom, so we continued toward the library.

  As soon as we stepped inside, Hannah shut the door, and I removed my mask and placed it on a settee. Without the cloth on my face, I felt like I could breathe again. The air was much cooler, and silence surrounded us.

  “You mustn’t let Miss Digby disturb you,” Hannah soothed. “I know how irksome she is, believe me I do, but I’ve known Oliver my whole life, and he has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

  “If only that were enough.”

  Hannah gave me a sad smile.

  The library doors burst open, and Oliver walked swiftly inside. He looked frantic.

  “Are you all right?” He rushed to where I stood, removing his mask and stuffing it in his coat pocket.

  Hannah quietly excused herself and closed the door behind her.

  “I am fine, thank you.”

  His brow furrowed. “What have I done? Tell me so I can correct it at once.”

  “You have done nothing wrong,” I said.

  “That cannot be true, else you would not be hiding here in this room and scowling at me.”

  “I am not scowling.”

  “You are.” He raised his hand to my forehead and smoothed the skin between my brows.

  I turned away from his touch.

  “Kate.” He stepped to the side and ducked to meet my eyes. “Talk to me.”

  I snapped my gaze back to his, and he reared back in surprise. “Do you really want to know what is wrong?”

  “I do, very much.”

  “You have proposed to two women, Oliver. Two.”

  “And yet I remain unmarried.” He gave me a small smile.

  “For now. But I suspect someday, someday soon if Miss Digby has any say, you will ask a third and—”

  Oliver’s mouth lifted into a small smile. “You are jealous.”

  “No,” I said in a clipped tone. Then realizing I had no reason not to tell him the truth—I still had to find another situation, and he still had to return to Winterset—I said, “Well, yes, if you must know.” I was so incredibly jealous, my stomach hurt.

  “You have no reason to be,” Oliver said, stepping closer.

  “Trust me, I do. You don’t see the way young ladies stare at you.”

  “Kate,” Oliver said. “It doesn’t matter if young ladies look at me. I am only looking at you.” He set his hand on my waist and drew me near. “Since the day I first stepped foot into Winterset and saw your portrait, I have seen no other woman but you. Even when I didn’t know you were alive, I couldn’t get you out of my head. No other woman that I have met, or that I will ever meet, will consume my thoughts the way you do. So no, you have no reason to be jealous.”

  Perhaps not tonight or even next week. But someday he would find another woman to consume his thoughts. A woman who wasn’t hunted by a man with murderous intent. Oliver would propose to her and take her home to Winterset. My heart broke anew at the thought of it. “No matter how you may feel for me, circumstance prevents us from being together.”

  “I thought so too. But I was wrong.” He took my hands in his. “I am in love with you, Kate.”

  “You love me?”

  “To the point of madness,” he murmured.

  “I love you too,” I whispered. “More than you could ever possibly know. That’s why this is so difficult.” I saw the love in his eyes, and it made what I had to say next nearly impossible. But I had to, for his sake. “No matter our feelings, we can never be together. I can’t lose you the way I lost Father.” I waited for him to release my hands and step away, but he only drew me closer.

  “You won’t lose me, Kate. So long as we are together, we can survive anything.”

  “What about Winterset?” I said, voicing another obstacle. “I can’t live there, and you can’t give it up.”

  “I can, actually. Winterset is not entailed. It is mine to do with it what I will. And I will to sell it. I do not need a house or wealth to be happy. I need only you.”

  I felt the truth of his words, how much he loved me, how willing he was to give up everything so that we could be together. But . . . “I cannot ask you to sacrifice so much to be with me.”

  “You aren’t asking me. I am telling you; I will not live in that house another day without you. I choose you, Kate. Above all else. Since the day I watched the carriage carry you away, I have been in agony,” he said. “Sending you away was the hardest thing I have ever done, and I do not wish to be separated from you again. Run away with me tonight, and let’s start a new life together.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to live in hiding, to always have to be looking over your shoulder.”

  “I don’t know what that feels like,” he said. “But I do know what it feels like to be separated from you. I know how it feels to wonder where you are and to worry about whether you are safe, and I cannot endure it another day. Please don’t ask me to.”

  “Where would we live?” I asked. I could not imagine how a life together was possible.

  “Wherever you like. Paris perhaps? The whole city is a work of art. You would love it there. Imagine it: walking on the cobbled stone streets along the River Seine, exploring art museums and gilded palaces and flowering gardens.”

  Over the last two years, I had tried so hard not to imagine life outside the safety of Winterset, but as we stood there in the library, I could see it so vividly: sitting in an expansive garden and painting Oliver’s portrait. I could feel the soft breeze in my hair, the sun on my cheeks. “It is a lovely dream,” I said.

  “It does not have to be a dream. It can be our plan. If we left right now, we could board a boat, and the captain could marry us before we docked. We could be walking in Paris together as man and wife by tomorrow night.” Oliver lowered onto one knee. “Marry me, Kate.”

  I looked into his eyes and saw his determination. He wasn’t offering his love in passing. This was his life, his heart, laid bare before me. How could I deny him, deny myself, the chance to finally be happy? I couldn’t. I must cast my fear of Markham aside and have faith in my future with Oliver.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I will marry you!”

  Oliver rose, taking me into his embrace. He looked at me for a long moment, the sheer relief of knowing our future would be together clear in his eyes, and then he kissed me.

  It was not as hurried nor as timid as our first kisses. His lips pressed against mine with passion—a promise of what was to come, of the life we would share.

  His arms tightened around me, and I clung to him just as fiercely. I felt so safe and loved when he held me like this. Warmth built between us, and he deepened the kiss.

  My stomach fluttered with a rush of feelings. Love and longing, hope and happiness.

  And when we finally parted, breathless and smiling, I knew I’d made the right decision in agreeing to marry him. Our life might not be what either of us had expected, but at least we would enjoy it together.

  “Have your maid pack your belongings,” Oliver said, his voice soft. “I will speak with my brother and ask him to help us make the arrangements to sell Winterset. I will have the carriage brought to the drive. And then we will away.”

  “Are we really doing this?” I whispered.

  “Yes, love. We really are.”

  Oliver

  The last time I’d stood in this study, it had belonged to Father. Not much had changed. The only difference I noticed was that a painting of Hannah now hung on the wall instead of Mother’s.

  “It’s strange for me too.” Damon closed the door and sat, not in the chair behind the desk but in the one beside me.

  His choice made me feel slightly off-center. I’d imagined that he would take the place of Father. But he hadn’t. He’d chosen, as he’d said in his letters, to be my brother. First and forever? The possibility felt real.

  “You have no idea how long I have hoped to sit here with you and have a conversation,” he said.

  “I do, actually. You laid out your feelings in painstaking detail in your letters. You quite lack brevity, brother.”

  I’d hoped to tease away the tension, but Damon’s gaze remained steady, intent. “You read my letters?” he said, his voice quiet.

  “Not until this week, after Kate left,” I admitted.

  He smiled slightly, but it was sad.

  I looked down at my hands, ashamed. “I wish I would have read them a long time ago,” I said. “But it was probably better that I didn’t. You would not have liked what I would have written before now.”

  Damon rubbed his forehead. “Anything would have been better than your deafening silence.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been immature and full of self-pity and spite for a long time, Damon. I hated you for two years.”

 

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