When Noah had seen Emmeline descend the stairs, he could not believe that she had dressed as Persephone. He was not a man given to romance and poetry, but when she saw her, he felt as if the heavens were letting him know that she was meant for him.

The russet color of her attire was perfect for her gold-brown hair, for she was an autumnal creature, belonging in a world of earth colors. Noah was convinced that there was bold nature concealed behind her veneer of shyness.

His suppositions were proved right as the veil of shyness lifted during their dance, and she spoke with a teasing humor. Noah was fascinated by the keen intelligence twinkling in Emmeline’s tawny eyes and could not stop himself from staring at her.

The waltz ended, and he escorted her back to Lady Alford, who was beaming in her Marie Antoinette costume. He smiled wryly to himself as he thought of Emmeline–still respected by the ton–she was very lucky. Most men had not lost sisters to a vicious society–the face of Noah’s late sister, Victoria, briefly flashed before his eyes.

While dancing with Emmeline, he had felt the same protectiveness he had felt for his sister claim him, and it bothered him.

Where is this coming from? I don’t even know her that well.

“You have no qualms in letting the Duke dance with me?” Emmeline asked her aunt after Newberry was out of hearing range.

“Why not? I allowed him two dances,” admitted Lady Alford. “He asked for three but that would get tongues wagging.”

Emmeline’s mouth dropped open. “But…what about others?”

Lady Alford took a bit of the tea cake she held and gestured with her spoon. “Well, let them eat cake, my dear!”

“Aunt, have you…had a little too much champagne. perhaps?” Emmeline inquired as there was no way her Aunt–such a stickler for propriety–could give Noah permission to dance with her that often unless she was tipsy.

“Why would you say such a thing, dear?” her aunt demanded in indignation. “I have not had more than one glass, and I will not have you treating me like your ward when I am the one doing the chaperoning!”

“You do know about… us and the Newberry’s?” Emmeline said tentatively.

Lady Alford sighed, “Yes, indeed I do. I also believe that it is time to put that absurd quarrel to an end.”

Emmeline spotted a gentleman in a dark cape stalking towards them, his stride agitated, and his face flushed–her brother George.

“Heavens!” she gasped. “I have to go find Ann.”

Emmeline escaped George by mere moments, in no mood to listen to his lecture on propriety and family honor. She found her friend at the back of the room.

Ann grinned cheekily at Emmeline and nodded over to where the Duke of Newberry was. “I could see you enjoying yourself, my dear friend.”

Emmeline released a breath. “I just ran away from George. He did not look pleased. I think he saw me and the Duke of Newberry.”

“It is just one dance, Em,” shrugged Ann. “What can he do about it? Put you over his knees and flog you? We’re at a ball to dance. What did he expect?”

“His Grace asked for three dances but was only allowed two, Ann. My aunt seems to like him,” Emmeline groaned mournfully.

Ann smiled, “Why would anyone not? I have investigated him, and it appears he is not exactly a rake. Although, he was rumored to have an affair with an opera singer last season.”

“An opera singer?” Emmeline repeated in dismay.

“You can hardly expect gentlemen of his title, wealth and influence to be abstinent,” Ann said logically. “After all, ladies of fewer morals run after gentlemen such as him.”

Emmeline watched the Duke of Newberry laugh with a beautiful flaxen-haired lady and something like anger simmered within her.

Ann followed her friend’s gaze, and her lips thinned. “I think we need a plan to catch the Duke.”

“Ann, I told you that our family history makes it impossible,” Emmeline said sourly. “Besides, why would he consider me, when he has beautiful ladies throwing themselves at him?”

“You are beautiful, too, Em,” Ann said forcefully. “Also, you have the advantage of intelligence, that most of those ladies lack.”

“George would be most displeased,” Emmeline said half-heartedly.

“Well, His Grace is not the one who has to look for a husband and spend the rest of their life with him!” Ann uttered primly. “The Duke of Newberry is titled, wealthy and handsome. There should be no objections, and an old family feud is small compared to the perfect match you would make.”

“What do you suggest?” Emmeline decided to humor her friend.

“Our capricious Duke needs competition,” said Ann, thoughtfully. “Once he notices gentlemen surrounding you, he is likely to come to your rescue.”

Emmeline knew her friend’s far-fetched notions would hardly be successful in attracting the Duke. However, she did feel it would be adventurous, so she agreed. “You exaggerate, my dear Ann. I do not have so many admirers.”

“That is because you are flighty,” Ann said loftily. “You disappear the moment more than two gentlemen approach you.”

“Try as you might, Ann, I am not the belle of the ball.” Emmeline replied.

Ann leaned in with her cobalt eyes dancing, “Let us try it, and you’ll see that I’m right.”

Almost an hour later, as the last set finished, Emmeline was laughing at a jest told by one of her admirers as her aunt hovered nearby. A discreet flirtation was not second nature for Emmeline’s naturally shy disposition, but she was hoping to earn Noah’s jealousy. However, she did not account how long she had to keep the act going. The fake smile she wore was on the verge of failing but she forced it to stay.

“What do you feel about the new club for ladies, that Lady Crawford founded recently, My Lady?” asked Lord Jackson, his eyes blue behind a devil’s mask.

“I have not heard of it, My Lord. Although if I had, I would not admit to it!” Emmeline remarked. “If you do not mind me asking, though, My Lord, do devils have blue eyes?”

Lord Jackson laughed appreciatively, “I think my devilish appearance is one-of-a-kind, My Lady. You should come for a visit to my country home, with your lovely aunt. I am certain we will enjoy each other’s company profoundly.”

“Why, thank you for the offer, My Lord. I will certainly discuss it with my aunt,” Emmeline said politely. “Although I am sure it will be difficult in the midst of the season.”

“I understand, of course, My Lady,” Lord Jackson said quickly and bowed, “The quadrille is starting. May I have this dance?”

The following dances passed in a blur and verily, Emmeline could not remember one name or title or even the shape of her partner’s faces. She was tired and weary, but Noah hadn’t made any appearance of watching her. Her last partner–Lord Something–bowed to her and walked off. Seeing him go, Emmeline felt the strain and was a bit weak.

Then a ripple ran over Emmeline’s skin as her senses flared with the feel of Noah behind her. She had no idea of how she was able to sense him, but she did, and she tingled from the Duke of Newberry’s tangible presence.

“I believe this dance is mine,” said a familiar baritone voice.

With one look, Emmeline realized Ann was right–the Duke did not seem pleased by the attention that she was receiving. His face was grave, and his eyes flashed dangerously beneath the black hood.

“I apologize,” Emmeline offered weakly, “I haven’t checked with my card before the last three dances.”

The next dance was a waltz and Emmeline wondered if this ‘scandalous’ dance was the theme song of her relationship with Noah.

The Duke of Newberry’s hand rested on her slim waist as he held her. Emmeline was once again efficiently guided to the dance floor but this time her fatigue was gone–replaced by nervousness.

“I see you have accumulated many admirers, Lady Emmeline,” the Duke said, not sounding happy.

Emmeline’s expression was innocent. “I believe it is quite a common occurrence for a debutante, Your Grace.”

“Indeed,” the Duke of Newberry agreed, his eyes never leaving her face. She noticed that they were a bright smoky gray, shining with keen intelligence.

The silence between them was unnatural, and Emmeline began to wonder if Ann’s plot had taken her down the wrong road. “Have I angered you, Your Grace?”

The Duke’s hand tightened a bit over her, and his hand on her back pressed her closer. “No, but I must admit that I’m suffering from one of Hades’ curses, My Lady.”

One of Hades’ curses? Oh, he is jealous! A soft blush crossed her face.

“But then,” the Duke’s voice was crafty, “I believe you suffered under the same green-eyed monster once, My Lady, when I danced with Miss Benoit.”

Now her cheeks were tinged a deeper red of embarrassment. Emmeline did not fully comprehend why this particular gentleman affected her so strongly, but she had a strong suspicion why.

Valiantly, she tried to change the subject. “I was just mentioning to Lord Dickson how interesting different cultures are.”

“Ah…travelling. That is another subject I find we both like,” His Grace said.

Emmeline ignored the fluttering in her stomach, “May I ask, where have you traveled, Your Grace?”

“You can ask me whatever you wish,” the Duke of Newberry said warmly. “I have been to many places, My Lady, but I once accompanied a relative, who regularly conducts spice trade from the subcontinent.”

“The subcontinent? The land of elephants?” she remarked, excited in spite of herself. “Please, tell me more!”

“It is very dry land, as compared to England. The sun was scorching in the summers. Unfortunately, that was the time of our visitation,” the Duke of Newberry’s lips curved into an indulgent smile. “The royalty and wealthy use elephants for transport. Once, I saw a Hindu Raja seated atop the most magnificent elephant, both adorned in embroidered cloth and jewels. The Muslim emperors are quite flamboyant in their display of wealth, too. There were dancing women and great feasts offered to the rich and the prominent.”

“Are British titles respected there?” Emmeline pressed, as her inquisitiveness was piqued.

The Duke’s frown was contemplative. “The natives have their own castes and titles that are different from ours. However, we have several British settlements there.”

“I see,” Emmeline said. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Your Grace. I do not know why some gentlemen think women cannot hold an intelligent conversation. I think some believe we only concern ourselves about balls, fashion, scandalous gossip, or which kind of dessert should be offered at meals.”

The Duke spluttered at her remark, “Dessert? What kind of ninny asks about cake?”

Emmeline laughed at his aghast expression. “Do you not believe me, Your Grace?”

“I do not,” Noah replied staunchly.

“I fear you will later regret your words, Your Grace.” Emmeline teased.

“There are ways to silence you, of course, if I feel the need, My Lady,” the Duke teased playfully.

Emmeline’s heartbeat quickened but she feigned innocence. “Whatever do you mean, Your Grace?”

The waltz ended, and Noah leaned into her ear and whispered, “Use your prodigious imagination.”

Emmeline cocked her head to the side in confusion and a bit of aggravation. Why does he have to be so mysterious?

Seeing her confusion, the Duke smiled and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. A man approached them and after greeting her formally, he asked something of Noah–an acquaintance, Emmeline assumed–but the Duke ignored him for a few moments before bowing to her, and then addressing the man.

Lady Alford smirked at Emmeline as she rejoined her chaperone. “What a lovely couple you make, my dear!”

“Aunt Catherine!” hissed Emmeline. “It really cannot come to anything.”

As gossip was prone to spread through the society grapevines like wildfire, the loud comment was made after looking around for any eavesdroppers–which happily, were many.

“We shall see, my dear. We shall see,” boasted her Aunt.

At a table across the room, the Dowager Duchess of Newberry gawped at her grandson, “Miriam!”

The Duchess sighed, before attending to whatever had upset her mother-in-law, “Yes, Mother?”

“Miriam! If I am not wrong, is that chit standing with Lady Alford a dratted Grant?” the Dowager Duchess demanded.

“I believe so,” the Duchess squinted. She frowned, recognizing some resemblance to Lady Emmeline Grant, “It appears so, Mother,” she muttered.

“I will not have it!” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “Does Noah not know our history? Put a stop to it at once! He cannot have anything to do with her! Remember, until I die I have a commanding power over his office!”

The Duchess barely stopped herself from clenching her jaw. Before the Dowager Duchess’ husband had died, he—on a stroke of madness, Miriam was sure—had given Sally control over many aspects of the Dukedom. It was an unheard of situation and it had thrown the view of power into contest, but it had been written into law and therefore, some documents couldn’t even be ratified without her signature. It was one that Miriam knew irked Noah to no end but until Sally died, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“I will see to it,” the Duchess promised.

Ann noticed the Duke of Newberry standing by the staircase alone, watching Emmeline twirl with her dance partners. Even while she was dancing, Ann had noticed him. Over the course of the long night, the Duke’s eyes had never strayed from Emmeline for too long.

Emmeline’s sentiments for the Duke were also an indication for Ann to attempt to bring them together. She was, after all, Emmeline’s bosom friend and wanted the best match for her.

Walking to the staircase, knowing Lady Alford’s eyes were on her, Ann decided to converse with the Duke of Newberry. “Are you enjoying your evening, Your Grace?”

The Duke inclined his head, his eyes on Emmeline, who was now dancing with Lord Fletcher.

“Yes, indeed, Miss Benwick,” the Duke of Newberry said stiffly. His words were in contrast with his body language.

Ann followed his gaze knowingly, “Does not Emmeline look wonderful? She has enraptured many tonight.”

The Duke did not appear happy to hear that. He extended his hand to Ann, “Will you do me the pleasure of this dance, Miss Benwick?”

Not entirely surprised, Ann agreed. Unlike Emmeline, she knew the workings of the male mind quite well.

Not far from the couple, the Duke of Leverton watched Miss Benwick walk to the dance floor with the Duke of Newberry. He felt a strange fury rise within him but controlled it under a stoic veneer.

Why is he so appealing to all the ladies here? Is that disgusting Newberry not satisfied with the women he’d already spoiled? Can he not leave respectable ladies alone?

Last season, when George had seen Miss Benwick after many years, she had blossomed from an irritating little girl into a stunning beauty and many men mistook Miss Ann Benwick’s charm as an invitation to be pursued. He found himself irritated whenever Miss Benwick flirted with every gentleman but him, and he felt his insides tighten every time she was around him.

George had danced with Miss Benwick because the latter had dared him to do so. It had devolved into an argument about one of her suitors–Viscount St. Vincent–a complete rake who had been pursuing Miss Benwick, declaring that he wanted to send her a proposal when George knew the Viscount was making similar promises to another debutante. Miss Benwick had not believed him, saying that George was merely jealous of the Viscount’s attempts.

In the months during his sire’s illness, George had refrained from courting her as he was still perplexed about his feelings for his sister’s friend. When she had come to the funeral, they treated each other with polite indifference but they both remembered that last incident. Miss Benwick’s harsh accusation still echoed in George’s ears now, even as he felt pure jealousy consume him to see her dancing with another.

“Ask her,” Emmeline said abruptly.

George scowled at his sister, who had appeared out of thin air. “Ask who what, Emmeline?”

“Ann, of course. Why do not you ask her to dance?” Emmeline said casually.

“What were you doing dancing with Newberry, Emmeline?” demanded George, redirecting the attention upon her. “I am certain you are aware of the enmity that exists between our families.”

“George,” Emmeline said finally, completely disgruntled. “Aunt Catherine believed it was good for my reputation to receive attention from a well-renowned Duke. I wonder, though, why I have to explain every action of mine to you when you’re mum on your affairs!”

“I am the head of the family now, Sister,” George said bitterly. “It is my duty to be certain you find a good match. And that is certainly not with one belonging to a rival family.”

“Do not try to make me feel guilty,” Emmeline snapped in a furious whisper. “Yes, you are the head of the house and you can certainly control my actions but come to your senses–this ancient enmity is madness!”

Fury laced George’s chest, “I can see how contrary your loyalties become.”

“You are a hypocrite to your faith, George.” Emmeline replied, “Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.”

“Fitzroy is not my brother.” George snapped. “Don’t you dare put me in the same category as an animal.”

Lady Alford tutted as she approached Emmeline. “For a soft-spoken girl, my dear, your tongue can cut like a knife at times.”

Emmeline’s cheeks flushed. Her aunt had obviously witnessed the argument. “Aunt, he had difficulty with my dance with the Duke. Why does it matter? It is not as if he is going to offer me marriage,” Emmeline said in a very low voice. “But that is not the matter, he knows this feud is foolish, but he cannot–will not–relent.”

Emmeline’s blood was simmering under her skin. “Aunt, I find myself…being drawn to Noah. And George is ruining my–ugh. I cannot stand his stubbornness!”

She did not realize her slip of the tongue, saying Noah’s name instead of his title, or realize the effect it had on her Aunt. So, caught up in her anger, Emmeline did not see the widened eyes of Lady Alford, or the sympathetic look that she received after.

“Will he ever let go?” Emmeline mourned.

“Nothing is impossible, my child,” her aunt replied, “Nothing is impossible. In my experience, God had his plans, but most of the time we have to meet him halfway.”

Emmeline sighed as the fight left her body in one whoosh. She looked at her brother, and over at the dancing Noah and Ann, “But where is that halfway point, I wonder…?”