She was not quite sure what had just happened. But she felt overwhelmingly relieved that she had stopped it. Prince Ferdinand had definitely not been interested in courting her. That was not how anyone treated a woman they loved and respected. And how could he love or respect her anyway? He had just met her in that hallway. No, Lucy had a feeling something terrible could have happened if she had not rejected him. Especially after seeing that young woman leaving, so ashamed and scared...

She realised what the Prince had meant with everything he had said. He had thought she was like that girl. He had thought Lucy was waiting to seduce him, to join him in his bedroom, or indeed on the dining room table. He had thought she was the sort of girl who would sacrifice anything for the chance of marrying a prince. After all, why else would she have waited for him, alone, in the empty hallway of his house? Why else would she have allowed him to kiss her like that?

Her heart was still beating a thousand times a minute, hard against her ribs. But this was not like with Lord Jones. This was painful. It was not who she was. It was not what she wanted to do with her life. And yet there she stood, alone in a hallway, having almost allowed herself to be ruined by a man who would never even consider marrying her. The thought of how much she had almost lost was terrifying to her.

She wondered whether she ought to leave straight away. After all, what good could come from the evening now? She could rejoin the party and remain there in shame, with everyone knowing what she had just done. Or she could rejoin the party and nobody might have noticed her absence, but she would have to live with her nerves on edge, constantly on lookout for Prince Ferdinand, terrified of even making eye contact with him again.

But she knew that leaving would look even worse. She had barely been absent a few minutes. Few would suspect that anything had happened in that time. It was barely enough time for a bathroom visit. If she went home, however, then people would be able to speculate about what she had done between leaving the party and heading to her coach. And she knew exactly what they would assume she had been doing.

About to head back to the party, she spied a figure at the bottom of the hallway, just outside the door to the drawing room. He held his hat and cane in one hand, but his coat had already been taken. He was watching her intently.

It was Andrew. Lucy smiled and waved. Then she paused. He was smiling now, but for a brief second, she had thought he was glaring at her angrily. And that was the last thing she wanted, after all which had happened that day. Another angry man... a man she loved.... no, a man she respected, nonetheless. She was not ready to handle that just yet. She resumed her waving, forcing herself to smile again. He waved back and began to walk towards her.

“Lucy! How wonderful to see you here,” he remarked.

She curtsied. “It is wonderful to see you also,” she replied. “I trust that you are well?”

He nodded. “Yes, I am. I hope you are as well... Your makeup is looking a little smudged. Just had dinner?”

Glancing at her reflection in the window, Lucy realised that her lipstick had been smeared by Prince Ferdinand, leaving a pink mark around her lips. That could not do. Anyone who saw her looking like that would immediately know what she had done.

Lord Jones handed her a handkerchief. “Here, just wipe it off,” he said softly, almost as though he knew what she was thinking, what she had done. And yet he did not comment on it. He did not chastise her. He just spoke tenderly to her, and offered the handkerchief.

“Thank you,” she replied quietly, taking the handkerchief and wiping all her lipstick off.

“Much better,” he replied. As he took the handkerchief, his hand lingered on hers before releasing her fingers, and tucking the handkerchief into his pocket out of sight. Fire coursed through her body.

Lucy wondered how much Andrew had seen, how much he knew. Normally he would confront someone directly if they seemed to be acting suspiciously. He would mock them and tease them. He would have no mercy. She felt that if he merely suspected her of improper behaviour, he would already be bullying her, at least in jest. But now he was being... very sensitive. Very careful. Almost too careful. As though he knew about the turmoil she was suffering.

“I did not know you were invited,” Lucy remarked, trying to take her mind off that matter.

Lord Jones nodded. “Oh, I was. I wrote back saying I had no time for dinner, but would stop by for some drinks. Speaking of which, I think we ought to make our way to the drawing room. Before the others realize you're out here trying to seduce a prince, and begin a witch hunt for you.”

“Is it so obvious?” Lucy said shyly.

“I am just surprised you thought standing in a hallway would work,” Lord Jones replied. There was a slight undertone of pain to his voice, as though he was trying to stay cheerful, yet still felt betrayed.

“I suppose I thought I was being clever,” Lucy replied.

“And what would you have done, had you managed to seduce a prince?” Lord Jones asked.

Lucy paused and shrugged. “I am not sure.”

“Because I thought you were committed to not marrying,” he added.

“I have,” Lucy said, not wanting to lose credibility. “But... I still find men attractive. I cannot help that.”

Lord Jones seemed a little crestfallen to hear this. “And I suppose Prince Ferdinand is all you had hoped?” he asked.

Lucy shook her head and laughed a little. “I dare say I was right all along. Princes are overrated.”

Lord Jones nodded and smiled in relief. “I do believe all royalty and nobility is overrated,” he replied.

“Then why did you agree to come to a dinner party hosted by a Prince and a Princess?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Andrew briefly looked caught out, but then composed himself and shrugged. “I do not enjoy socializing, but I do not dislike it either. It is something which I do on my own terms. If I am invited somewhere, I may go if the time suits me and there will be good drink.”

As they walked into the drawing room, Lucy was relieved to see that nobody was looking towards the door. Nobody had noticed her absence, or their arrival. It would have looked odd, the two of them arriving at the same time. But then perhaps she could have claimed she had went to the front door to greet him?

She began looking around, wondering if it would be for the best to keep Andrew and Clara away from one another. She was not sure how they may react upon seeing each other.

“What is the matter?” Lord Jones asked. “Are you looking for someone?”

“It is... I am not sure how to say this,” Lucy replied.

“Just say it,” Lord Jones insisted, “it shall not bother me.”

“Clara is here,” Lucy said cautiously. “I thought you were not invited because I thought Her Highness had only invited Clara. And I would rather that the two of you did not meet, seeing how hostile you are towards her.”

“Oh... I see...” Andrew replied. “I shall do my utmost to avoid her,” he added. He looked more than a little uncomfortable and he too scanned the room before making his way to the table where the liqueurs were being served.

Lucy, after looking around and not seeing a bright blonde head anywhere, followed Lord Jones and accepted a small glass of her own. “Really, you ought to have a digestif after dinner,” she said.

Lord Jones smiled. “Then I suppose this is my dinner, and I shall have another one to follow it,” he swallowed his drink in one solid gulp. It was quite clear to Lucy that he was nervous. Again, she was surprised. He was normally so bold and brazen to everyone. It was only in front of her that he let that mask slip. But now it was slipping, not because of her, but because of another woman. Because of Clara Neal. She was beginning to see what he was doing.

Whenever he was in front of a member of society he had no care for, he exaggerated that disinterest to a point of disrespect, to push them away. But when a woman he had affections for was present, he was unable to disrespect her. Unlike most people, who have a standard public face that is moderate and likeable, he only had a rude mask, which he could not bear to wear in front of someone he cared about. And so he was forced to reveal his true self. Which he seemed to hate.

Lucy found herself stifling a yawn. It had been a long day. She felt a little tired, but she did not want to leave Lord Jones's side. He was just the sort of company she needed. She stepped a little closer to him. After what had happened with Prince Ferdinand, she wanted to feel safe again. She wanted to feel protected again. She watched him as he quietly drank his brandy and watched the room.

He did not have the same look in his eyes as Prince Ferdinand. He did not look proud or satisfied, like he was surveying his belongings. He looked... disdainful. And bored. Prince Ferdinand had looked like a bull overlooking his cattle. Lord Jones looked like a well-fed cat watching mice scurry around him.

“Why are you clinging so close to me?” Lord Jones remarked, as the servant poured his third drink. He sounded a bit warmer and happier all of a sudden, as though the earlier events had been forgotten. “You are like a little girl hiding behind her mother's skirts.”

“I enjoy talking to you, when you are not so quiet,” she replied.

“I see,” he replied with a smile.

“Besides, it was you who waited for me in the hallway. Are you following me?” she asked with a giggle.

“I suppose I very much enjoy your company,” Lord Jones replied. A slight flush took over his face. “You are not unattractive, you are intelligent, you have a refreshing outlook... and, most importantly, you often agree with me, which means I do not need to introspect too much.”

Lucy giggled. “Is too much introspection a bad thing?”

He nodded. “Well, it does make me question my own genius,” he replied with exaggerated affect.

But she did not like that tone. She preferred it when he was blushing and awkward. “I would be surprised if you did not enjoy my company, after last time,” Lucy whispered to him, knowing full well what it would do to him.

The blush began to creep back up and he drew a sharp breath. “Yes, I suppose that may have been a little of a hint as to my... opinion of you,” he replied, avoiding looking her in the eye.

She moved a little bit closer. “I am tired and shall be heading home. Will Your Grace see me to the door?” she whispered.

It was amazing what an effect it had on him when she leaned in and whispered her thoughts ever so gently. He shivered a little, blushed an even deeper shade of red, and just nodded. It was wonderful to see him blushing like that, to see the vulnerability he had beneath his harsh exterior. He presented his arm for her, and she wrapped her little fingers around it, feeling how strong he was under his suit. Possibly as strong as Prince Ferdinand. It was just that Lord Jones did not wear clothes two inches too tight to show himself off. She rubbed his arm subtly. This was much better.

Lucy had half expected him to kiss her again at the door. It seemed as though he was going to. He paused as she asked the servant for her coat and bonnet, then as soon as they were alone again he gazed into her eyes and lowered his face towards hers. But as he leaned in he suddenly stopped and put his head to one side, perplexed.

“What is the matter?” she asked quietly.

“I am not sure I like the smell of brandy on you... nor that perfume,” he replied, pulling back a little. “You ought to choose something a little more feminine, like your usual scent,” he said with a slight smile.

She nodded. But she was wearing her usual scent. Only over the top... the smell of Prince Ferdinand had worn off on her. She smelled of his brandy, his cologne, and that poor girl's perfume. And Andrew could smell it on her.

She felt a burning shame, to know that Lord Jones could possibly tell that she had been used like that. She looked to the floor. “I suppose I shall wear my usual one tomorrow,” she replied, hoping he had not noticed.

He nodded. “That would be wise. I like how you usually smell.”

Before she could say anything else, the moment was gone. The servant was back with her coat and bonnet, and it was time for her to head home. Her lips were still burning with desire for Andrew, but they would have to wait. She smiled softly and nodded. “Please see me to the door.”

He nodded back. “Of course, Lucy.”

He followed her to the door. She subtly caressed his hand as she was about to leave. She turned around and their eyes met. He was perfect. She sighed. She needed him. She stepped a little closer, looking at his lips, wondering if the servant would say anything should she kiss Lord Jones then and there.

He coughed a little to himself. “Well, we shall meet again soon,” he said nervously.

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, we shall.” He was right. They could get caught...

But as she descended the stairs, another thought crossed her mind. Had he rejected her? Turning around, she saw he was no longer waiting in the doorway. Only the servant stood there. Had Lord Andrew Jones smelled another man on her, and turned her away?

She was heartbroken and ashamed to have been caught with Prince Ferdinand's scent on her. But why? It was no crime to be showing interest in other men. She was not married to Lord Jones.

Then it struck her. That was precisely it. She wanted to marry Lord Jones.

What on earth had she gotten herself into?