Chapter Two

By the time the second hour of the ball passed, Sophie's toes ached from the numerous times they were trodden on. Her poor new slippers looked far less pretty than they had been when she arrived at the ball earlier.

Not that she would complain about such trivial matters, even if her toes were bruised the following day. She was dancing, enjoying a ball, thanks to her cousin. She would never have had the opportunity to attend had she not been so fortunate as to know Harlow.

Sophie stood beside a window, cracked open a little to allow the cooling night air to enter, and sipped a glass of lemonade. A moment of peace and respite as Harlow and Lord Kemsley enjoyed a waltz together.

She watched them, pleasure filling her at the love the couple had for each other. She would be a simpleton indeed if she did not strive for such a love, to have a husband who looked at her the way Lord Kemsley gazed at his wife.

How wonderful that would be.

"Miss York, I hope you're enjoying the ball," Mr. Fairbanks said, bowing before her.

She dipped into a curtsy and smiled. "Mr. Fairbanks, how lovely to see you again, and yes indeed, I'm enjoying the ball as I hope you are?" she asked him.

He came and stood beside her, a lofty expression on his handsome visage. "I am enjoying the ball all the more now that I know you are in attendance. The London Season seems to suit you," he said. "You're from the country, are you not?"

"Yes, the small village of Highclere. My mama still resides there," she said, not wanting to explain further about her life. The fewer people that knew of her, the less chance there was of someone finding out that she was not as she appeared.

When people looked at her, they saw innocence, a pretty face even, a woman of little means but with high connections. And she supposed she was all those things, bar one.

She was not innocent.

Sophie drove the unhelpful thought aside and took another sip of her lemonade. "The ball is a crush. I do not believe I've been to such an entertainment this Season where one finds it difficult to move about."

"Yes, the Duke and Duchess of Derby invite all who are worthy, and no one dares refuse, hence the crush. But, at least, it allows for more intimate conversation since we're forced to stand nearer to the other."

The sparking glint of innuendo in Mr. Fairbanks's eye reminded her of Lord Carr and her mistake of thinking all men acted like gentlemen when they did not.

No good came from believing such falsehoods.

She hoped Mr. Fairbanks was honest and kind. All the things he was portraying himself to be, but she was uncertain. The number of gentlemen who paid her calls and danced with her nightly left her reeling and unsure whom to trust and believe at any one moment.

"Her Grace, I suppose, wants to make her ball the most enjoyed and talked about, until the next one. I can see why they invite so many. Should I ever have the luxury of being a hostess on such a grand scale, I would like the same. Do you not think this is simply marvelous?" The ballroom glistened in the candlelight. The women's gowns were a rainbow of colored silks in the room, not to mention the jewels. So many pretty diamonds and other gemstones that Sophie could only covet. How lucky these people were, and most of them would never know how much.

Mr. Fairbanks watched her keenly. What was the man thinking? Did he find her answer in poor taste? She knew the ton did not speak of marriage or fine things, but she was neither of those, so did the rules really apply to her?

"You would make a beautiful hostess," he said.

She smiled and glanced across the ballroom floor, needing to close that line of conversation before it became inappropriate. A sizzle ran down her spine at the sight of the Duke of Holland. He stood talking to the Duke and Duchess of Derby, his height and stature pulling any lady's eye in his direction. He was so handsome, so commanding, and aloof.

What a shame she could not win someone so grand as he. But he was far from innocent and would learn her secret and despise her for it.

As if sensing her inspection, he glanced in her direction, and the breath in her lungs seized. Their eyes met and held for one tantalizing moment before he turned back to his friends.

Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear, he was lovely.

Trouble with a capital T if she were any judge of character.

"That is the Duke of Holland, Miss York. Have you been introduced?" Mr. Fairbanks asked her.

Heat kissed her cheeks that he had noticed her regard for the man, and she shook her head, averting her gaze to anywhere but at the duke, who was too attractive to be fair.

"I do not know many in town. Lady Kemsley, is trying to remedy that, but I believe she will fall short."

Mr. Fairbanks gestured for her to walk with him. "I can introduce you if you like. It would be my pleasure. From what I understand, the duke has not been in London since last Season and only arrived several days ago."

Butterflies fluttered in Sophie's stomach, and she questioned whether it would be in good taste if she allowed Mr. Fairbanks to introduce her to Lord Holland.

She looked around for Harlow and found her in conversation with Lady Jenkins.

Sophie turned to Mr. Fairbanks and slipped her arm through his in agreement. "Very well. I see no harm in being introduced. And since I know the Duke and Duchess of Derby, I see no disadvantage in being polite."

"I could not agree more." Mr. Fairbanks grinned, leading her toward the man who appeared more like a god than a mortal and possibly just as untouchable as those mystical beings.

***

The hairs on the back of Henry's neck prickled in awareness, and he reached up and clasped his muscles there. He turned without knowing the reason why and his stomach clenched.

One of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen stood looking up at him. Her large, blue eyes watched him with interest and a little awe, and for a moment, he could not look away.

He met Mr. Fairbanks's laughing gaze and narrowed his eyes on the gentleman, fully aware of his amusement and what he was up to. Reminding him of the bet he'd been foolish enough to put his name to. And all because he could not stomach being outed for the fraud he was.

"The Duke and Duchess of Derby, I believe you know Miss York, but may I introduce Miss York to you, Your Grace?" Mr. Fairbanks said to him. "Miss York, this is the Duke of Holland."

The light-haired goddess with lips made for kissing dipped into a deep curtsy, and he glanced about, not sure it needed to be so regal in depth.

"Your Grace, this is Miss Sophie York from Highclere. She is the cousin of Lady Kemsley," Fairbanks explained.

Henry bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss York," he said, unable to tear his gaze from her eyes. They were the darkest blue he had seen in many years. When he had noticed her across the ballroom floor, they had shone like jewels in the candlelight. "I hope you're enjoying your stay in town?" he asked, desiring this conversation to not be awkward. Her large eyes and rose-kissed cheeks told him she was a little flustered, but as to why he could not fathom.

"I am, Your Grace. Thank you for asking."

Henry wracked his brain, searching for more to say, and thankfully the Duchess of Derby came to his rescue.

"I hope you're attending our picnic tomorrow afternoon, Miss York. I know you wished to see our conservatory, and I have ensured it's the prettiest it can be for your visit," the duchess said warmly.

"You enjoy gardening?" Henry asked her. It was a hobby of his, and this was a fortunate turn of events. They may have something to talk about after all.

"I like hothouse flowers, Your Grace. The different scents. I have a little book, a hobby where I try to explain the scent. I'm not very good at it, and these past weeks I have neglected it terribly, but should someone wish for a particular rose, for example, and they would like a particular scented rose, I think this could be a useful resource. Not that I have completed many. I did not have the opportunity in Highclere to study much."

"Your estate did not have a hothouse?" he asked her and regretted his question immediately when she paled before them all.

"We were not so fortunate, Your Grace."

She did not elaborate, and he met Derby's eyes and knew he had to try to repair the faux pas he had just created between them all.

"Will you dance with me, Miss York?" he blurted before he could think better of it.

Her eyes lost the despair they had formed and she blossomed before him. "I would like that very much, Your Grace. Thank you."