hilip most certainly did not have the next dance, but I was not about to admit that in front of Mrs. Fairhurst. I had no choice but to put my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor.

This was most unexpected. As he led me to the line of couples, I frantically searched my memory for the list of his faults I had compiled earlier. But I couldn’t think clearly while standing across from him, waiting for the music to begin. I was nervous—very nervous. I had never danced with Philip before, and having him watch me with those familiar eyes was making my heart race. I took a deep breath and decided I would pretend he was any one of the ordinary men I had danced with that evening. In fact, I wouldn’t even look at his face. I would look at his cravat and say nothing.

The music started. I stepped toward Philip as he stepped toward me. I kept my eyes fixed on that perfectly tied cravat. I could do this. I could pretend he was a stranger and never meet his eyes and never feel anything at all while dancing with him.

But I had not taken into account one important fact: Philip did not dance like any ordinary man I knew. When he touched my waist, he did not rest his hand passively and lightly. Rather, he pulled me toward him, his hand pressing on the small of my back, so that in a step I was so close I could feel him breathe. A shock raced through me, and I looked up in surprise. I looked into his eyes, which I had sworn I would not do.

Oh, my. Perhaps an experienced lady in London would know what to do with the smoldering look he gave me, but I did not. And I found, quite to my dismay, that when I looked into Philip’s eyes I could not remember a single fault on that list. He said nothing, and I said nothing as we turned. When he released me, my legs felt weak and my hands shook. I turned in a daze to follow the other steps in the dance.

Before I was prepared for it, it was time to meet in the middle again. I could not believe I had ever danced this way before without realizing how intimate it was. My hand clasping Philip’s, his other hand on my waist, pulling me close while we gazed into each other’s eyes—it was all too much. And still he said nothing to me. I began to think it would be better if he did say something, if only so I could say something flippant in return and dispel the emotion that was building between us.

I saw, when he released me, that Lady Caroline stood just behind the line of dancers, watching us, and that Rachel, who was dancing with William several couples down, was also looking our way. My face burned and I wondered what they were thinking. Did I look like I was trying to ensnare Philip? And where was Cecily? What was she thinking?

Just when I thought things couldn’t be worse, Philip spoke. He pulled me close and said in a low voice, “Half the ladies in London?”

So he had overheard! “Yes, that seems to be the general consensus.”

His eyes narrowed and he watched me as we moved apart and down the line of dancers. When we met again, he asked, “Is that what you’re holding against me?”

“I’m not holding anything against you.” I spoke stiffly, then tried to smile so he would believe the lie.

Philip shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar. You shouldn’t even try.”

I glared at him, wracking my brain for the perfect reply. Nothing came to mind, however, which may have been because I could never think clearly when I was this close to him.

“You know, your glare is not quite the punishment you think it is,” he said.

His breath brushed my neck and made another shiver run through me. I lifted an eyebrow.

“And why is that?” I tried to keep my voice frosty.

The steps of the dance took us apart, and I had to wait, tense with anticipation, to hear his answer. Philip never looked away from me. When we finally met in the middle again, he said, “You are even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

I shot him a dark look. “Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not,” Philip said. His eyes were still smoldering, and I sensed again that restrained passion within him that I had witnessed in the fencing room. “You should see yourself, with that flash of fire in your eyes. And when you press your lips together like that, a dimple appears in your left cheek, right next to your mouth. I find it... maddening.”

I burned with embarrassment and anger and severe discomfort. Philip was flirting with me, and it was very wrong of him. I had always known that his flirting was a game to him, and so that wasn’t what made me angry. What angered me was that his flirting made me realize that all of those other gentlemen I had danced with did not know how to flirt at all. Not one of them had made me feel as if I were turned inside out and set on fire all at once. And how could I ever be happy with another man when Philip was around to outshine them all?

Besides that, it was apparent that Sir Philip Wyndham was the most infuriating man alive, for now I couldn’t even give him an angry look without knowing he enjoyed the sight. I was left, in fact, completely defenseless.

There in the middle of the dance floor my armor was undone and the unthinkable happened. I remembered that Philip didn’t want me, and never had. My sadness flared to life, burning through my anger, melting every defense I had. Then I made a terrible mistake. At the height of my vulnerability, I looked into Philip’s eyes. Time seemed to slow, the music faded away, and the other dancers disappeared. There was nobody in the world except for Philip and me, and I was finally close enough to discover the secret I had sensed in his eyes.

It was there, shining so clearly, so obviously, that I wondered how I had never seen it before. I was so stunned I stopped dancing, appalled, while the truth I had discovered burned devastatingly bright within me. The most surprising part of my discovery was that it wasn’t Philip’s secret I had seen in his eyes, but my own.

I was in love with Philip Wyndham.

A second thought immediately followed the first: Philip was certainly not in love with me.

Dread dropped through me. Oh, what had I done? How had I been so great a fool?

“Marianne?”

I blinked and tried to focus on Philip’s face. His eyes were tight with concern. “You’re very pale,” he said. “Are you unwell?” He gripped my elbow tightly, as if to hold me up.

I nodded. I was unwell.

“Excuse me,” I said, turning away from him. I was surprised that he let me go so easily. Perhaps I wrenched myself free, though. I was too dazed to know how it happened, but suddenly I was free of him and pushing my way through the crowd of dancers. They were turning and smiling and talking and laughing, arms and hands and faces and legs and noise and ribbons and lips. I was jostled, and I pushed back harder, desperate to escape the tumult, when a hand snatched at mine.

It was Philip’s, and looking over my shoulder I saw his lips move—he said something—but I couldn’t hear what. Everything was too loud and too whirling and too hot. I tripped over dancing feet, and then an arm was around my waist, and Philip pulled me out of the dance, where his mother waited with a worried expression.

I sat in a chair by a window. Philip leaned over me, looking very worried, and Lady Caroline was there, too, fanning me and asking what had happened.

“She nearly fainted in the middle of the dance,” Philip said.

What an absurd thing to say. I never fainted—well, almost never. But I did feel strangely detached from my body. I couldn’t feel my legs or arms. I was floating, groundless. I looked down and was surprised to see Philip’s hand gripping mine. I couldn’t feel that either. Cecily was suddenly by my side, smelling like lilacs and exuding such soft beauty she looked like an angel.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I thought you looked terribly pale. Where are my smelling salts?” She took my free hand and rubbed it between hers. “Are you feeling faint now? Perhaps we should find a place for you to lie down. Or a drink.”

A sense of clarity came back to me as I looked into her familiar blue eyes. They were my mother’s eyes. And this was Cecily, my twin sister, who was in love with the same man I was, and who would undoubtedly be able to win his heart. And why shouldn’t she? After all, he didn’t want me.

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling my hand away from Philip’s, but not Cecily’s. I did not look at him. “I think it was the heat. Please don’t give me another thought. I’ll sit here by the window for a few minutes and be as good as new.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Philip said, but his solicitude only fired an anger deep within me. How dare he continue to try to deceive me? How dare he continue to toy with my heart?

“No,” I said, harshly, and saw out of the corner of my eye how Philip’s head jerked back with surprise. “You should finish the dance,” I continued, trying to soften my voice. “With Cecily.”

I was sure Philip was looking at me, but I did not return his gaze. It was part of the defenses I had raised. After a moment, I saw him bow his head and offer Cecily his hand. As soon as they walked away, I turned to Lady Caroline.

“May I go home? Please?” I couldn’t even think of an excuse to give her.

Concern touched her eyes, but she said nothing more than, “Of course. I am growing tired of dancing myself. I will accompany you.”

I waited at the door while she had the carriage brought around. I kept my back to the dancers so I would not have to watch Philip and Cecily dancing together. Lady Caroline was very considerate and only spoke a few times in the carriage about the ball and the weather. She didn’t ask me to confide in her, and I was grateful for that. I think if I had been given a chance, I would have burst into tears. As it turned out, I was able to keep my emotions in check until we reached the house.

Betsy was surprised to see me back so early, but I said nothing to explain myself, and after a few minutes, she stopped asking questions. As soon as I was out of my gown and into my nightgown, I dismissed her and crawled into bed. I lay awake, examining the workings of my heart. It was a painful and embarrassing exercise, but I needed illumination more than I needed shielding.

This is what I discovered: I had loved Philip all along. I had kept it a secret, even from myself, and I had shied away from that secret over and over again.

I supposed I had sensed intuitively that once I acknowledged the secret, I would also have to acknowledge the fact that Philip would never feel the same way about me, and that would ruin everything. And my intuition was right—Philip didn’t feel the same. In fact, he would do anything to be rid of me. Well, I would make sure he got what he wanted. He would be rid of me, as soon as possible. This paradise was ruined for me. As soon as Lady Caroline’s ball was over, I would find a way out of Edenbrooke, even if it meant going back to Bath.

At that decision, I broke all of my promises to myself. With a great, wrenching sob, my heart broke open, and I cried as I had not cried since my mother died.