Damien watched as Charlotte sat along the edge of the room with the other wallflowers and spinsters. She’d been there all night, rooted as firmly to her chair as the ferns decorating the ballroom were to their pots. It was no wonder she lacked suitors when she did not so much as try to interact.

What had happened to the vivacious beauty he had once courted? She cut a lovely image in her pale ball gown, but gone were the brilliant smiles and sparkling eyes. It was no wonder the tons gentle did not approach her. Sitting there with her bored expression and straight back, she looked rather stern—not at all welcoming.

Having seen enough, Damien strolled across the expanse of the room. He would have to get her out of that chair if he were ever to help her succeed in finding a husband. He made his way through the crush, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a servant along the way.

When he reached the thrall of wallflowers, he thrust one of the flutes into Charlotte’s hand. “Drink this.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I do not want to.”

He tipped his flute against his lips and drained the champagne from it in one long draw before pinning her with his gaze. “Drink it.”

Charlotte stared back at him for a moment then did as he had, draining the contents of the flute in one long drink. Holding the glass back out to him, she said, “Are you happy now?”

“No.” He reached out taking her hand then pulled her from the chair. “You cannot sit here all night and hope to garner any attention.”

“What would you have me do when no one has signed my dance card?” she protested as he led her away from the wall.

“I don’t blame them.” Damien stopped on the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

Charlotte peered up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You have not moved from that chair all night.”

“I do not recall you as being daft.”

“And I do not remember you as a cold statue.” Damien twirled her then brought her back into his arms as he led them through the steps of the dance. “You cannot expect gentlemen to apron you when you do nothing to invite their attentions.”

Charlotte pressed her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she stared directly into his. “What would you have me do?”

“To start with, you could smile.”

She gave a half-hearted grin.

“Brighter.”

Her lips parted, revealing her perfect teeth as the corners of her mouth pulled up.

“Yes, like that.” He twirled her once more. “Next, you must not sit with the wallflowers.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Take a turn about the room, go onto the veranda for a bit of fresh air, lurk around the refreshment table. For heaven's sake, do anything other than what you have been.”

She nibbled at her lower lip. “I will endeavor to try.”

“What happened to you? These things used to be second nature for you.”

She did not answer—not with words at any rate, but the faraway look in her crystal blue eyes spoke volumes. He had done more than break her heart—he’d destroyed her confidence. Damien's heart grew heavy. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt her, and until this moment he hadn’t even realized how much he had.

“Charlotte.” His voice came out barely louder than a whisper.

She brought her attention back to him.

“You are a beautiful woman, and as I recall, quite capable of being charming and witty when you choose to be. You need only show it and you will have more suitors than you will know what to do with.”

She laughed, a genuine smile overcoming her. “That was very kind of you to say.”

The quartet struck the final notes of the dance. Damien swept Charlotte from the dance floor and led her to where her sister stood. He bowed. “Good evening Lady Oxford.”

“I see you have located my sister, Lord Grayson. I trust you enjoyed your dance.” Elizabeth waved her silk fan.

“Indeed, and now I am returning her to you.” Before Charlotte could release his arm and step away he leaned close and whispered, “Stay here.”

She nodded, then turned to her sister as he took his leave of them. Now that he had her away from that bloody chair, he would ensure that she not return to it. There was one way to make certain that she remained amongst the crush rather than sequestered in a corner.

Damien turned from the sisters with a plan in mind and searched the room for his intended helper. Spotting the Duchess of Goodwin, he strolled across the room.

“Your Grace.” He gave a roguish grin, dropping into a bow.

The duchess grinned, her eyes dancing. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Enjoying the ball, of course.”

“You never attend these sorts of things without good cause. Do tell me what you are about.” She laughed before sipping her champagne.

“I never could fool you.” He granted her another charming grin. He’d not reveal his reason for attending, though. The duchess was a renowned gossip, a fact he intended to use to his advantage—not the other way around. “I hear tell that the unattainable debutante is seeking a husband.”

“Is that so?” Her Grace’s gaze swept across the room to where Charlotte stood beside Lady Oxford. “How is it that I am only now hearing of this?”

“Truly?” He raised a brow in mock speculation. “You are normally among the first to hear such tidbits.”

“Be that as it may, I shall not be the last.” She playfully smacked her fan against his arm. “Excuse me.”

He bowed, then bit back a smile as the duchess made her way toward a pack of gossips. By night's end, everyone who was anyone in London would know of Charlotte’s desire to wed. Having done all he could for now, Damien returned to Charlotte. “A word, my lady.”

She took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her around the perimeter of the ballroom. The instant she touched him, his blood heated.

Dammit, but the woman still had an affect him. Swallowing hard, Damien glanced at her. “I am going to take my leave. I have seen enough for one night. You are to remain standing, and keep smiling. Before long your dance card is going to fill up.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He led her back toward Lady Oxford. “Trust me…it will.”

“Won’t you stay so that you might give me more guidance?” She stared wide-eyed at him.

“You do not need any more of my help. Simply accept the dances and be yourself.” He deposited her back with her sister, then took his leave. He could not stand the idea of paying witness to all of the attention she was about to receive.