I’d known the moment Jeanette entered the cigar room; it was as if she were a beacon I was attuned to. I’d been doing the rounds, speaking to the men that Freddie introduced me to while keeping an eye on Lord Cameron. The viscount was a leech. He was ingratiating himself with as many high-ranking lords as possible and I wondered how many of them knew about the dire financial straits he was in. Then Jeanette had breezed in and I hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

The woman was breathtaking in the white gown with her glossy, brown locks pinned up and her long, creamy neck exposed. I waited for her to look for me, but she was focused on only one thing - her brother Martin. She made a bee-line for him and then dragged him out on to the balcony. A cold lump settled in my stomach. She had found out about Lord Cameron, I was sure of it. Why else would she come in here and disturb her brother?

I lifted my head and looked across the heads of the men to find Freddie. He raised an eyebrow at me. He’d obviously seen it too. I checked for Lord Cameron, but he was oblivious, too engrossed in his conversation with another lord to pay any attention to his betrothed. I excused myself from the conversation I was in and headed over to the doors that opened on to the balcony. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. No. What I wanted was to be the first thing that Jeanette saw when she had finished with her brother. Freddie joined me a few moments later.

“What’s all that about?” he asked.

“I think someone told her about Lord Cameron.”

“But who?”

I shrugged and looked around. “I have no idea. There are a few of the English gentry here, so maybe one of the wives?”

“I suppose that’s possible.”

“I could be wrong,” I said with a sigh. “It could be something totally unrelated. Their mother could be sick.”

We heard raised voices, but not what they were saying and Freddie quirked an eyebrow at me.

“That sounds like an argument,” he stated unnecessarily.

Before he could say any more, the doors opened and Martin strode out, a determined look in his eye. He saw Freddie and I and stopped.

“There have been some developments,” he said.

“Oh?” Freddie replied.

“I will fill you in later. Right now, I have to deal with something - someone.”

We watched him stride off, but not in the direction I thought. I had wrongly believed that he would march over to Lord Cameron and toss him out. Instead Martin headed for the exit, confusing me. I heard the door behind me open again and my eyes found Jeanette’s. They were red-rimmed, like she had been crying. Her cheeks were a little splotchy and the tip of her nose was red. I moved over to her and put her hand through my elbow.

“Would you care for a walk in the garden?” I asked.

She looked up at me with grateful eyes and nodded. Her lower lip trembled until she bit down on it and I wanted to kiss her. She straightened her shoulders and we moved through the crowd to the door that led into the ballroom.

“Would you rather dance?” I asked.

We stopped for a moment to take in the dance floor. The black and white dresses of the women with the scarlet coats of the men made for a spectacular sight.

“Maybe later,” she said.

I guided her out onto the terrace, keeping her tucked in close to my side. She seemed so fragile, which was not a word I would normally associate with her. We descended the stairs and onto the white gravel path. The crunch of the stones underneath our feet was the only immediate sound. The music from the ball was a faint background murmur and the chattering of the gathered revellers was white noise. I nodded to the guard posted as we walked past and headed into the rose garden. The sweet perfume was heavy in the air and reminded me of my mother’s love for her own rose garden. It was nothing compared to this - trying to grow roses in a tropical climate was hard work - but Mum was proud of it.

“Are you alright?” I asked when Jeanette remained silent.

“Not really,” she said, huffing out a rueful laugh.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You’re doing it,” she said.

We strolled along the path in a comfortable silence. The rose garden was dimly lit by garden lights every metre or so, and the hedges were draped with fairy lights. Every now and then there would be a break in the garden beds and a small alcove would appear. A small bench and a statue would be in each one and I wondered whether it would be worth making use of one of them to give us some privacy. Jeanette might be more amenable to telling me what was going on if we had some semblance of anonymity.

“Shall we sit for a bit?” I asked as another grotto came into view.

She nodded and I led her into the space. It too was lit with fairy lights and could have been quite romantic. That wasn’t why we were there, though, despite my longing to kiss her again.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked.

She sighed as she sat. “What do you do when you find out that someone you’ve trusted has been lying to you?”

“I suppose that depends,” I replied, lifting my hand to sweep a tendril of hair off her forehead.

“On what?”

“On what they lied about and I suppose on what their intentions were.”

“I don’t think lying can ever be justified.”

“I don’t know about that. We lie to ourselves all the time. We lie to our friends to protect them from harsh truths. We lie to others to protect our friends.”

“What about when your mother lies to you to protect her own interests?”

I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. Drew must’ve thought I was a complete moron. The fact was that I was still coming to terms with what my mother did. It hurt to know that she pretty much bought me a title with my money without even consulting me on the matter. It was almost as though I wasn’t good enough unless I had an embellishment to my name; like I wasn’t a worthy daughter because I was titleless. I had done so much for her. Didn’t she realise that I could have been a real terror as a teenager? The woman was lucky I turned out as well as I did. She certainly hadn’t had any input into it.

I stood and began to pace in the little alcove. Drew remained sitting and let me do what I needed while still providing his silent support. He was good like that. He had an innate sense of when to push me and when to remain silent.

“I was never really any good at gymnastics,” I said. “My physical education teacher told me I was too uncoordinated to ever be any good at it. She said I looked like a praying mantis; too stiff and awkward.”

“O-kay,” Drew said slowly.

“It’s true,” I said, turning around to face him. “I was too stiff and awkward and although I couldn’t see myself, her description of me was probably apt.”

I turned away again and examined the statue that shared the space with us. It was one of those beautiful women, clad only in a robe and looking over her shoulder, despair on her face. I wondered what her story was, what made her look so sad.

“It’s funny though,” I continued, “for someone so obviously lacking in gymnastic ability, I’ve been doing a fair imitation of a gymnast, or perhaps a contortionist.”

Drew left his seat and walked over to stand behind me, his hands cupping my upper arms, his chest at my back.

“I know you’re trying to tell me something,” he said, “but I’m really not very good with metaphors.”

I turned to face him and rested my hands on his warm chest. I had to tilt my head to look into his eyes and it made my lip quirk in a rueful smile.

“I have spent my life bending over backwards, twisting myself into a pretzel and walking a thin balance beam all in order to please my mother. Hoping, by some miracle, that this time I would make her happy. So, you see, I’ve been achieving all these feats of acrobatics and yet nothing has been good enough, or so I found out tonight.”

His arms wound around my waist and he pulled me closer so I could lay my head on his chest. He rested his chin on top of my head and we stood like that in silence. I soaked up his warmth and strength, hoping to fight the chill that had entered my bones when I realised what Mother had done.

“You’ve always been the good girl.” His voice rumbled through his chest.

“I have been the epitome of the good girl,” I replied. “If you look up ‘good girl’ in Wikipedia, they will have a photograph of me.”

“You really never did anything bad? Never snuck out to meet a boy or took a drag of a cigarette?”

“I was head girl at St. Margaret’s,” I said. “I was so pious in my duty that I earned the moniker ‘Saint Jeanette.’ No one wanted to be my friend because they knew I would dob them in to the headmistress if I ever found out they were doing something wrong.”

He chuckled and the sound reverberated through me, making me smile.

“And what would those girls from St. Margaret’s say if they knew you dressed in black leather and rode a hot pink Ducati?”

I gave a small snort of laughter. “They would probably have me committed to a psychiatric hospital or think I had been the victim of a body snatcher.”

He leaned back to look into my eyes and his face was all kindness and caring.

“What happened with your mother, Jeanette?”

I sighed and burrowed back into his chest. I couldn’t tell him while he was looking at me; it was too embarrassing.

“My mother bought me a husband,” I said.

“Lord Cameron?”

I nodded. “She used my trust fund and my dowry to entice him. Apparently, he’s broke and is about to be put out on the street, but my money will save him. In exchange, I get to be a viscountess. I get a title of my own, which was what she has wanted all along.”

“You don’t want to be a viscountess?”

“Not especially,” I replied, “I don’t care about titles and all that. I was only going along with it because I knew it was what she wanted and I was prepared to do anything I could to make her happy. She also intimated that it would be detrimental to my brothers’ business if I refused Lord Cameron. But it was all lies. He has no money or any business interests that can benefit my brothers. It was her way of manipulating me into getting what she wanted.”

“Why is your having a title so important to her?”

I pushed away from him and turned, wrapping my arms around myself as if to hold myself together and stop my cells from flying off in all directions.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked quietly. “I’m not enough. My eldest brother is a marquess, my second brother is a well-respected business man with a flourishing vineyard - an acceptable gentlemanly pursuit according to my mother - but I have nothing. I am nothing special to look at, as she has told me time and again. I am no earthly good to her unless I can elevate her social standing. She is a marchioness, but if her daughter were a viscountess, that would give her a couple more society points and she could rub it in the noses of her friends whose daughters haven’t married so well.”

“But surely if Lord Cameron doesn’t make you happy, she wouldn’t expect you to marry him.”

I huffed out a course laugh. “Happiness has no bearing whatsoever. Love? What has love got to do with being married?”

I don’t remember a time when I was more shocked by the words coming out of Jeanette’s mouth. Did she really think that her family would only love her if she did enough things to please them?

“I can’t believe that,” I said. “I can’t believe that Martin and Joshua would think so little of you.”

“Not them, perhaps,” she said softly, “but definitely my mother. It has been drummed into me since I was a little girl. My father’s title didn’t extend to me, so I needed to marry one. It was the only acceptable course of action.”

“Surely you’ve misunderstood the message,” I said, pulling her back against my chest, my hands resting on her shoulders.

“It’s lovely that you think that,” she replied, “but as I look back over my life, the only things that my mother has encouraged me in are things that would net a titled husband. My job, for instance. I wanted to come here and work for Alyssa, but my mother saw it only as an opportunity to meet an eligible lord. She gave me quite the dressing down when Alex managed to ‘snare’ Freddie - her word, not mine. In her mind, I should have set my sights on him, or Will even.”

I honestly did not know what to say to her. How did she manage to turn out so normal when by rights she should have become a conniving social climber? If the things she was saying about her mother were true, then her mother was a damn fool. Could she not see the precious daughter she had raised? Could she not see the intelligence that danced in her eyes and the kindness that tilted her lips? Did she not see the inner beauty that shone out of Jeanette like a beacon?

If Jeanette had grown up with the encouragement and support she deserved, the woman would have turned out a powerhouse. As it was, she had impressed me time and again and that was in spite of her mother’s efforts to turn her into something ugly.

“So what are you going to do?” I murmured into her hair.

“I’m not going to marry Lord Cameron for a start,” she said, turning to me.

“Good,” I replied before leaning down to brush a soft kiss on her upturned mouth. Marry me instead, I thought.

I lifted my head and looked down at her, wishing I could say the words. The timing was wrong; she had too much to work out with her family first. I had every intention of biding my time. I would be her friend, I would be her confidant and when the time was right, she would be my wife. I smiled.

“What?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh nothing,” I said, my grin widening. “I sure do wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell Lord Cameron that the wedding is off.”

She giggled and swatted my chest with her hand. “Stop it,” she said, “I’m sure the poor man is going to be devastated that his meal ticket has been revoked.”

“Ah, Jeanette. He’s a fool to think of you as a meal ticket.” I lifted a hand to her hair and wrapped an escaped tendril around my finger. “You would be an asset to any man.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, “but I was prepared to be loyal, if that counts for anything.”

“He doesn’t deserve you. He never did. Now, enough of this doom and gloom. There is a party happening inside and I think it’s about time you gave me that dance you promised.”

She smiled up at me and my heart skipped a beat. I kissed her again, just because I could, and then we walked out of the grotto and back onto the path. The bright lights of the ballroom drew us in and I led her to the dance floor and took her in my arms. She laughed delightedly as I spun her around the floor and I was once again thankful for my mother forcing ballroom dancing on me as a child.

I still couldn’t quite get my mind around the fact that Jeanette’s mother had been prepared to force her daughter into a marriage simply because of the title attached. I knew my own mother wasn’t happy with my life decisions - she wanted me to stay in Australia, on the farm preferably - but she didn’t love me any less because I had chosen my own path. I had to endure her whining about it from time to time, but it was because she missed me, not because she felt I was a disappointment or that I had let her down.

The orchestra began a slow waltz and I pulled Jeanette in close.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked.

“Six years at Mrs. Templeton’s School of Dance,” I replied with a grin.

“Wow. Six years? That’s a long time… is there something you need to tell me?”

“Ha! I was only one of five boys in the class of twenty. That meant I got to dance with lots and lots of girls.”

She laughed as I turned her in a fast spin, finishing with a low dip. She stiffened in my arms and I raised her up to see what had made her demeanour change. Standing on the edge of the dance floor was Lord Cameron. His face was flushed and his eyes furious. I threw him a charming smile, but did not let go of Jeanette. She tried to tug herself out of my grasp, but I continue to lead her in the waltz, tightening my arms around her.

“I need to go to him,” she whispered furiously.

“What on earth for?” I asked. “He has no hold over you. He lied to you and manipulated you. Why would you want to have anything further to do with him?”

“Because until I speak with him and refuse his proposal, we are still betrothed.”

I held in a growl and grit my teeth. I didn’t think I would ever understand the workings of the upper crust. Wasn’t possession nine-tenths of the law? And didn’t I happen to have possession of Jeanette at this very moment? I took a deep breath and released her as the music came to a close. I bowed over her hand, running my lips across her knuckles and then I let her pull her hand away. One thing I knew for sure. We were not done.