enry held her head high as Dunford helped her down from the carriage. It nearly broke her heart when his hand touched hers, but she was learning how to keep her emotions off her face. If Dunford happened to glance her way, all he would see was a perfectly composed visage, with no sign of grief or anger—but with no sign of happiness either.

They had just alighted when the Blackwoods’ carriage arrived behind them. Henry watched as John helped Belle down. Belle immediately rushed to her side, not bothering to wait while Alex disembarked. “What’s wrong?” she exclaimed, noting Henry’s uncharacteristically tense face.

“Nothing,” Henry lied.

But Belle heard the hollowness in her voice. “Obviously something is wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

Belle rather doubted Henry could have grown quite that nervous during the short carriage ride. She shot a withering glare in Dunford’s direction. He immediately turned away and struck up a conversation with John and Alex.

“What did he do to you?” Belle whispered angrily.

“Nothing!”

“If that is true,” Belle said as she gave her a look indicating she didn’t for a second believe it was, “then you still had best compose yourself immediately before we go in.”

“I am composed,” Henry protested. “I don’t think I have ever been quite this composed in my life.”

“Then un-compose yourself.” Belle took Henry’s hands in an urgent embrace. “Henry, I’ve never seen your eyes look so dead. I’m sorry to have to say it that way, but it’s the truth. There is nothing to fear. Everyone will love you. Just go in there and be yourself.” She paused. “Except for the cursing.”

A reluctant smile quivered on Henry’s lips.

“And leave off talk of farming,” Belle added quickly. “Especially that bit about the pig.”

Henry could feel the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Oh, Belle, I do love you. You have been such a good friend.”

“You make it very easy,” Belle returned, giving her hands an affectionate squeeze. “Are you ready? Good. Dunford and Alex are going to escort you in together. That should ensure you make a big splash. Before Alex married, they were the two most eligible gentlemen in the country.”

“But Dunford didn’t even have a title.”

“It didn’t matter. The ladies wanted him anyway.”

Henry understood all too well why. But he didn’t want her. At least not in any permanent way. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her as she glanced at him. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to prove to herself that she was worthy of love, even if Dunford did not agree. Her chin moved up a notch, and a dazzling smile crossed her face. “I’m ready, Belle. I am going to have a lovely time.”

Belle looked slightly taken aback by Henry’s sudden vehemence. “Let’s be on our way then. Dunford! Alex! John! We’re ready to go in.”

The three gentlemen reluctantly broke off their conversation, and Henry found herself flanked by Dunford and Alex. She felt terribly small; both men were a good inch over six feet and rather broad through the shoulders. She knew she was going to be the envy of every lady in the ballroom; she hadn’t met too many men of the ton, but surely most of them lacked the sheer virility of the three men in her party.

They made their way inside and waited in line for the butler to announce them. Without even realizing it, Henry began to move closer and closer to Alex’s side, pulling away from Dunford. Finally Alex leaned down and whispered, “Are you all right, Henry? It’s almost our turn.”

Henry turned and flashed him the same stunning smile she’d just used on Belle. “I am perfect, your grace. Perfect. I am going to slay London. I shall have the ton at my feet.”

Dunford heard her words and stiffened, pulling her back toward him. “Watch what you do, Henry,” he whispered cuttingly. “It wouldn’t do for you to make your entrance draped over Ashbourne. It’s common knowledge he’s devoted to his wife.”

“Don’t worry,” she returned with an insincere grin. “I won’t embarrass you. And I promise to be off your hands as soon as possible. I shall endeavor to have dozens of marriage proposals. By next week if I can.”

Alex had an idea what was going on, and his lips twitched. He was not so honorable that he was not enjoying Dunford’s distress.

“Lord and Lady Blackwood!” the butler boomed.

Henry’s breath caught in her throat. They were next.

Alex nudged her playfully and whispered, “Smile.”

“His grace, the Duke of Ashbourne! Lord Stannage! Miss Henrietta Barrett!”

A hush fell over the crowd. Henry was not so vain and deluded as to think the ton had lost their voices over her incomparable beauty, but she did know that they were all dying to get a look at the lady who’d somehow managed to make her debut on the arms of two of the most desirable men in Britain.

The five friends then made their way over to Caroline, further ensuring Henry’s success by proclaiming to the world that the influential Countess of Worth was sponsoring her.

Within minutes Henry was surrounded by young men and women, all eager to make her acquaintance. The men were curious—who was this unknown female and how had she managed to snare the attention of both Dunford and Ashbourne? (The on-dit that she was Dunford’s legal ward had yet to circulate.) The women were even more curious—for exactly the same reason.

Henry laughed and flirted, teased and sparkled. By sheer force of will she managed to push Dunford from her mind. She pretended each man she met was Alex or John, and each woman was Belle or Caroline. This mental ruse allowed her to relax and be herself—and once she did that, people warmed to her instantly.

“She is a breath of fresh air,” Lady Jersey declared, not caring in the least that she was being terribly trite.

Dunford overheard this comment and tried to be proud of his ward, but he couldn’t manage it over the irritating possessiveness he felt every time some young fop kissed her hand. And that was nothing compared to the searing spurts of jealousy that rocked through him every time she smiled at one of the many older, more experienced men who also flocked to her side.

Caroline was just now introducing her to the Earl of Billington, a man he usually liked and respected. Damn it, that was the same cheeky smile she usually gave him. Dunford made a mental note not to sell Billington the prized Arabian he’d been nosing after all spring.

“I see your ward has made quite a killing.”

Dunford turned his head to see Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott. “Lady Wolcott,” he said, lazily inclining his head.

“She’s quite a success.”

“Yes, she is.”

“You must be proud.”

He managed a curt nod.

“I must say, I wouldn’t have predicted it. Not that she isn’t attractive,” Lady Wolcott hastened to add. “But she is not in the usual style.”

Dunford fixed a deadly stare upon her. “In looks or in personality?”

Sarah-Jane was either exceedingly foolish or she just didn’t notice the furious gleam in his eyes. “Both, I suppose. She is rather forward, don’t you think?”

“No,” he bit off, “I don’t.”

“Oh.” The corners of her lips turned up ever-so-slightly. “Well, I’m sure everyone will realize that soon.” She offered him a pouty smile and then moved on.

Dunford swiveled his head to regard Henry once more. Was she being too forward? She did have a rather vibrant laugh. He’d always taken it as a sign of a happy and delightful person, but a different sort of man might see it as an invitation. He moved over to Alex’s side, where he could keep a better eye on her.

Henry, meanwhile, had managed to convince herself that she was having a splendid time. Everyone seemed to think she was terribly attractive and witty, and to a woman who had spent most of her life without friends, this was a heady combination, indeed. The Earl of Billington was paying her particular attention, and she could tell from the stares she was receiving that he was not usually given to paying court to young debutantes. Henry found him rather attractive and personable and began to think that if there were more men like him, she just might be able to find someone with whom she could be happy. Perhaps even the earl. He seemed intelligent, and although his hair was reddish brown, his warm brown eyes reminded her of Dunford’s.

No, Henry thought, that should not be a point in the earl’s favor.

Then again, she decided in the spirit of fairness, it shouldn’t necessarily be a point against him either.

“And do you ride, Miss Barrett?” the earl was saying.

“Of course,” Henry replied. “I grew up on a farm, after all.”

Belle coughed.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“In Cornwall.” Henry decided to spare Belle the agony. “But you do not want to hear about my farm. There must be thousands just like it. Do you ride?” She asked that last question with a teasing look in her eye; it was a given that all gentlemen rode.

Billington chuckled. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you for a ride in Hyde Park sometime soon?”

“Oh, but I couldn’t do that.”

“I’m crushed, Miss Barrett.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Henry continued, her smile lighting up her face. “I couldn’t possibly make an appointment to ride with a man I know only as ‘the earl.’ It’s terribly daunting, you know, being merely a ‘miss’ myself. I’ll be quaking the entire time for fear I’ll offend you.”

This time Billington laughed loudly. He gave her a smart bow. “Charles Wycombe, madam, at your service.”

“I should love to go for a ride with you, Lord Billington.”

“Do you mean to tell me I went to the trouble of introducing myself to you, and you still mean to call me ‘Lord Billington’?”

Henry cocked her head to the side. “I really don’t know you very well, Lord Billington. It would be dreadfully improper of me to call you Charles, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said with a lazy smile, “I don’t.”

A warm feeling flushed through her, almost, but not quite, identical to what she felt when Dunford smiled at her. Henry decided she liked this feeling even better. There was still that lovely sensation of being wanted, cared for, possibly loved, but with Billington she managed to retain some measure of control. When Dunford chose to bestow one of his grins on her, it was like going over a waterfall.

She could sense him near her, and she glanced to her left. He was there, just as she had known he would be, and he gave her a mocking nod. For one moment Henry’s entire body reacted, and she forgot how to breathe. Then her mind retook control, and she turned resolutely back to Lord Billington. “It is good to know your given name, even if I do not intend to use it,” she said with a secret smile. “For it is difficult to think of you as ‘the earl.’ ”

“Does that mean you will think of me as Charles?”

She shrugged delicately.

It was at that point that Dunford decided he had better intercede. Billington looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take Henry’s hand, lead her out to the garden, and kiss her senseless. Dunford found that feeling unpleasantly easy to understand. He took three swift steps and was at her side, putting his arm through hers in a most proprietary manner.

“Billington,” he said with as much warmth as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

“Dunford. I understand you are responsible for bringing this delightful creature to the attention of the ton.”

Dunford nodded. “I am her guardian, yes.”

The orchestra struck up the first chords of a waltz. Dunford’s hand stole down Henry’s arm and settled around her wrist.

Billington executed another bow in Henry’s direction. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Barrett?”

Henry opened her mouth to reply, but Dunford was faster. “Miss Barrett has already promised this dance to me.”

“Ah, yes, as her guardian, of course.”

The earl’s words made Dunford want to rip his lungs out. And Billington was a friend. Dunford clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to growl. What the hell was he going to do when men with whom he wasn’t friends began to court her?

Henry frowned in irritation. “But—”

Dunford’s hand tightened considerably around her wrist. Her protest died a quick death. “It was very nice to meet you, Lord Billington,” she said with unfeigned enthusiasm.

He nodded urbanely. “Very nice, indeed.”

Dunford scowled. “If you’ll excuse us.” He started to lead Henry out toward the dance floor.

“Perhaps I don’t want to dance with you,” Henry ground out.

He arched a brow. “You don’t have any choice.”

“For a man who is intensely eager to have me married off, you’re doing quite a good job of scaring away my suitors.”

“I didn’t scare Billington away. Trust me, he’ll show up on your doorstep tomorrow morning, flowers in one hand, chocolates in the other.”

Henry smiled dreamily, mostly just to irritate him. When they reached the dance floor, however, she noticed that the orchestra had begun a waltz. It was still a relatively new dance, and debutantes were not allowed to waltz without the approval of society’s leading matrons. She ground to a stubborn halt. “I can’t,” she said. “I don’t have permission.”

“Caroline took care of it,” he said brusquely.

“Are you certain?”

“If you do not start dancing with me in one second, I will yank you forcibly into my arms, creating such a scene that—”

Henry put her hand on his shoulder with alacrity. “I don’t understand you, Dunford,” she said as he began to twirl her across the floor.

“Don’t you?” he said darkly.

Her eyes flew to his. What did that mean? “No,” she said with quiet dignity. “I don’t.”

He tightened his hold on her waist, unable to resist the temptation of her soft body under his hand. Hell, he didn’t even understand himself these days.

“Why is everyone staring at us?” Henry whispered.

“Because, my dear, you are the latest craze. This season’s Incomparable. Surely you realize that.”

His tone and expression made her flush angrily. “You might try to be a little happy for me. I thought the purpose of this trip was to give me some social polish. Now that I’ve got it, you can’t stand the sight of me.”

“That,” he said, “is about as far from the truth as anything I’ve heard.”

“Then why...” Her words trailed off. She didn’t know how to ask what was in her heart.

Dunford could feel the conversation veering toward dangerous waters and sought to bail out quickly. “Billington,” he said curtly, “is reputed to be quite a catch.”

“Almost as good as you?” she sneered.

“Better, I imagine. But I would advise you to watch your step around him. He’s not some young dandy you can wrap around your finger.”

“That is precisely why I like him so much.”

His hand tightened yet again around her waist. “If you tease him, you may find yourself getting what you ask for.”

Her silvery eyes turned hard. “I was not teasing him, and you know it.”

He shrugged disdainfully. “People are already talking.”

“They are not! I know they aren’t. Belle would have said something to me.”

“When would she have had the chance? Before or after you teased him into trying to get you on a first-name basis?”

“You’re horrid, Dunford. I don’t know what has happened to you, but I don’t like you very much anymore.”

Funny, he didn’t like himself much, either. And he liked himself even less when he said, “I saw the way you looked at him, Henry. Having been the recipient of that expression myself, I know exactly what it meant. He thinks you want him, and not just as a matrimonial prize.”

“You bastard,” she hissed, trying to pull away from him.

His grip turned to steel. “Don’t even think about leaving me in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I’d leave you in hell if I could.”

“I’m sure you would,” he said coolly, “and I have no doubt I’ll meet the devil in time. But as long as I’m here on this earth, you will dance with me, and you will do so with a smile on your face.”

“Smiling,” she said hotly, “is not part of the deal.”

“And what deal would that be, dear Hen?”

She narrowed her eyes. “One of these days, Dunford, you’re going to have to decide whether you like me or you don’t, because quite honestly, I cannot be expected to anticipate your moods. One moment you’re quite the nicest man I know, and the next you’re the devil himself.”

“ ‘Nice’ is such a bland word.”

“I wouldn’t trouble myself over it if I were you, because that is not the adjective I would use to describe you right now.”

“I assure you, I was not having palpitations over it.”

“Tell me, Dunford, what is it that makes you so horrid every now and then? Earlier this evening you were so lovely.” Her eyes grew wistful. “So kind to assure me I looked all right.”

He thought wryly that she looked far better than “all right.” And that was at the root of the problem.

“You made me feel like a princess, an angel. And now...”

“And now what?” he asked in a low voice.

She looked him straight in the eye. “Now you’re trying to make me feel like a whore.”

Dunford felt as if he’d been punched, but he welcomed the pain. He deserved no less. “That, Hen,” he finally said, “is the agony of unfulfilled desire.”

She missed a step. “Whaaaat?”

“You heard me. You cannot have failed to realize I want you.”

She blushed and swallowed nervously, wondering if it were at all possible that the other five hundred partygoers did not notice her distress. “There is a difference between wanting and loving, my lord, and I will not accept one without the other.”

“As you wish.” The music ended, and Dunford executed a smart bow.

Before Henry had a chance to react, he disappeared into the crowd. Guided by instinct, she made her way to the perimeter of the ballroom, intending to find a washroom where she might have a few moments of privacy to regain her composure. She was waylaid, however, by Belle, who said that there were a few people she wanted Henry to meet.

“Could it wait for a few minutes? I really need to go to the retiring room. I think—I think I have a small tear in my dress.”

Belle knew precisely with whom Henry had been dancing and guessed something was amiss. “I’ll go with you,” she declared, much to the consternation of her husband, who was prompted to ask Alex why it was that ladies always seemed to need to go to the retiring room in pairs.

Alex shrugged. “It’s destined to be one of the great mysteries of life, I think. I for one am deathly afraid of finding out what exactly goes on in these retiring rooms.”

“It’s where they keep all the good liquor,” Belle said pertly.

“That explains it, then. Oh, by the by, have any of you seen Dunford? I wanted to ask him something.” He turned to Henry. “Weren’t you just dancing with him?”

“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest idea where he is.”

Belle smiled stiffly. “We’ll see you later, Alex. John.” She turned to Henry. “Follow me. I know the way.” She navigated her way around the edge of the ballroom with remarkable speed, stopping only to pluck two glasses of champagne off a tray. “Here,” she said, handing one to Henry. “We might need these.”

“In the washroom?”

“With no men about? It’s the perfect place for a toast.”

“I don’t much feel like celebrating right now, I must say.”

“I thought not, but a drink might be just the thing.”

They turned into a hallway, and Henry followed Belle into a small chamber which was lit with half a dozen candles. A large mirror covered one wall. Belle shut the door and turned the key. “Now,” she said briskly, “what is wrong?”

“Noth—”

“And don’t say ‘nothing,’ for I won’t believe it.”

“Belle...”

“You might as well tell me, for I’m dreadfully nosy and always find out everything sooner or later. If you don’t believe me, just ask my family. They’ll be first to confirm it.”

“It is only the excitement of the evening, I tell you.”

“It’s Dunford.”

Henry looked away.

“It’s quite obvious to me you’re more than halfway in love with him,” Belle said bluntly, “so you might as well be honest.”

Henry’s head whipped back to face her. “Does everyone else know?” she asked in a whisper that hovered somewhere between terror and humiliation.

“No, I don’t think so,” Belle lied. “And if they do, I’m sure they are all cheering you on.”

“It’s no use. He doesn’t want me.”

Belle raised her brows. She had seen the way Dunford looked at Henry when he thought no one was looking. “Oh, I think he wants you.”

“What I meant was, he doesn’t—he doesn’t love me,” Henry stammered.

“That question is also open to debate,” Belle said with a thoughtful expression. “Has he kissed you?”

Henry’s blush was answer enough.

“So he has! I thought as much. That is a very good sign.”

“I don’t think so.” Henry’s eyes slid to the floor. She and Belle had become very good friends this past fortnight, but they had never spoken quite so frankly. “He, um, he, um...”

“He what?” Belle prodded.

“He seemed so utterly in control afterward, and he moved all the way across the carriage as if he wanted nothing to do with me. He didn’t even hold my hand.”

Belle was more experienced than Henry, and she immediately recognized that Dunford was terrified he would lose control. She wasn’t entirely certain why he was trying to behave so honorably. Any fool could see they were a perfect couple. A small indiscretion before marriage could easily be overlooked. “Men,” Belle finally declared, taking a swig of champagne, “can be idiots.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why people persist in believing women are inferior, when it is quite clear that men are the more feeble-minded of the two.”

Henry stared at her blankly.

“Consider this: Alex tried to convince himself he wasn’t in love with my cousin only because he thought he didn’t want to get married. And John—now this one is even more asinine—he tried to push me away because he had it in his head that something that happened in his past made him unworthy of me. Dunford obviously has some equally featherbrained reason for trying to keep you at arm’s length.”

“But why?”

Belle shrugged. “If I knew that, I’d probably be prime minister. The woman who finally understands men will rule the world, mark my words. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“It cannot be that wager.”

“What wager?”

“A few months ago I wagered Dunford he would be married within a year.” She looked over at Henry apol-ogetically.

“You did?”

Belle swallowed uncomfortably. “I believe I said he would be ‘tied up, leg-shackled, and loving it.’ ”

“He is making me miserable because of a bet?” Henry’s voice rose considerably on the last word.

“It might not be the wager,” Belle said quickly, realizing she had not improved the situation.

“I would like to wring... his... neck.” Henry punctuated the sentence by tossing back the contents of her champagne glass.

“Try not to do it here at the ball.”

Henry stood up and planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I care.”

Belle chewed nervously on her lip as she watched Henry stalk from the room. Henry did care. Very much.