“Ah, Lord Hartley!”

It was Lord Morton’s ball, and much to George’s frustration, his friend now fully expected his seduction of Lady Ellen to be completed by the evening’s end. He, however, was struggling with an inner turmoil, one that had not left him since two weeks prior when Lady Ellen had, so beautifully and so calmly, apologized to him.

The guilt that ran through him had not yet dissipated.

“Yes, Morton?” he asked with a small sniff. “What can I do for you?”

“I am surprised to see you up here,” Lord Morton exclaimed, with a look of feigned surprise. “The balcony is not your usual haunt – unless, of course, you are looking for your quarry. She is here, you know.”

His jaw clenched.

“Ripe for the plucking, I would say,” Lord Morton continued, with a lift of his brow. “Why not this evening, Lord Hartley? Never say that you have had a change of heart!”

“No, of course not!” George exclaimed at once, his fingers gripping the handrail tightly. “She is just still not quite sure of me, that is all.”

Lord Morton scoffed at this, shaking his head firmly. “Now, do not toy with me, Lord Hartley. Everyone knows just how much time you have been spending with her these last few weeks, and I know she would not do such a thing if she did not truly believe your transformation to be a genuine one.”

That was the problem, however. As far as George was concerned, this transformation of his character had begun to feel a permanent fixture. He did not care so much for gambling or women, nor even about maintaining his reputation – but yet he could not say as much to Lord Morton. That would mean a climb down from the bet, a willingness to lose to his friend. The ridicule that would follow was too much for him to bear.

And so, he still maintained that he would win the bet and kiss Lady Ellen. The thought of what that would do to the friendship that was slowly being built between them did not bear thinking about. Despite that, however, it was his pride that won out. He would do as he had promised, he would win the bet and maintain his standing. What happened with Lady Ellen thereafter would be something he would just have to endure.

His heart tore, but he did not allow it to show in his expression. Lord Morton’s mocking voice continued in his ear, but George tried not to listen. Suddenly, he despised Lord Morton and all that he stood for, despised even himself for the man he had been – and the man he still was.

Hanging his head, George let out a long, slow breath, as Lord Morton declared to him, yet again, that he expected the deed to be done by the end of the evening, reminding George to fetch him before he took Lady Ellen outdoors, as he expected him to do.

George said nothing, and in a few moments, he was left entirely on his own.

The solitude did not help him. In fact, it did nothing to assuage the guilt that was being heaped on his shoulders, the guilt that had placed itself there the day that Lady Ellen had apologized to him for her lack of belief in his change of character. She had been so sincere, so genuine and vulnerable that he had wanted to fall at her feet and confess the whole charade.

But he had not done so. Instead, he had accepted what she had said, muttered something about forgiving her, and then returned her to her friend. Whenever they met over the next few weeks, she had been much more open toward him, with a ready smile on her face whenever he so much as looked in her direction.

It was an appreciation and an association he did not deserve. He was going to ruin it all tonight; he was going to ruin everything between them. And all to save his own skin.

Why could he not admit that Morton was right, he was not the gentleman who could turn any lady’s head he wished? Why was that so difficult to say? He shook his head and blew out a long breath, looking down at the lady in question as she laughed and smiled with a few of her acquaintances. She was so breathtakingly beautiful, of both character and of face. He felt as if he were a hunter, about to take the life away from a majestic creature, simply for his own pleasures.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped away from the balcony and hurried down the stairs. Could he do this? Really?

Making his way through the crowd toward Lady Ellen, he saw her gaze land on him, and for a moment, the rest of the crowd faded away. There was no music, no laughter, no conversation. There was just Lady Ellen.

And then she looked away, continuing the conversation with another, and it all came rushing back at once. In that moment, George knew that he could not bring himself to do what he had intended. He would lose the bet. He would make it all come to light. He would tell all to Lady Ellen and beg her to forgive him, just as she had. He would explain to her that the change she had affected was now a permanent one, not one that would simply fade away after a short time so that he might return to his old ways. They did not have a hold over him any longer; they did not call to him in the way they had once done. That part of his life was over for good.

“Lady Ellen?”

His voice was hoarse and rasping as he reached for her hand, bowing over it in a sudden flurry of desperation. He had to tell her everything now, before the desire to do so left him. It was most untoward to be grasping a young lady’s hand, but he hoped she might see the urgency in his eyes and the grief in his soul over what he must do.

“I must speak to you,” he said, ignoring the murmurs going on around him. “This very moment, if you please.”

She looked at him in astonishment, her brows lifting.

“It is important, Lady Ellen,” he continued, as quietly as he could. “It will only take a few minutes.”

Nodding, she excused herself and came toward him. George let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes for a moment. “Might we go somewhere quiet to speak, Lady Ellen?”

“My goodness, Lord Hartley, is everything all right?” she asked, looking more and more concerned. “You are not ill, I hope?”

He shook his head. “No, I am not ill. But what I have to say cannot be kept hidden any longer. It must come out, else it will rob me of my very soul.” His words were tortured, the pain in his heart excruciating. She kept her eyes on him, as they walked to the quiet part of the ballroom, near the French doors.

“Might we walk outside?” she asked, with a small smile. “I know there will be many others outdoors, and I have been told it is well lit.”

He shook his head, recalling that Lord Morton would most likely be waiting to see him leave with her. “I do not think that is a good idea. Someone might overhear us.”

She gave a quiet laugh. “My dear Lord Hartley, they are more likely to hear us in here! Come now, I insist. A short walk will be just the thing, and I can have one of my acquaintances walk a little behind us if you wish – not that anyone will notice, I am quite sure.”

The reluctance in him was a strong warning. “I do not think your mother would approve.”

“You mean my mother, or my father,” Lady Ellen chuckled. “My father has come out this evening with us, although I think he disappeared almost at once into the card room.”

“A wise man,” George muttered. “Then I must insist that we remain inside.”

“Oh, but they both trust me implicitly,” Lady Ellen replied calmly. “And since I now trust you, Lord Hartley, there can be nothing to fear, can there? You are not about to drag me to some darkened spot, are you?” She lifted one eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile, and George sighed heavily.

“No, of course not,” he said firmly. “But I insist we stick to the path and remain in sight of the others at all times.”

She smiled. “But of course.”

They stepped outside and walked down the stone steps toward the path. It was, as Lady Ellen had said, very well-lit, and for that, George was grateful. There would be no missteps here. He only had to hope that Lord Morton had not followed them, at least not before he had a chance to speak to Lady Ellen.

“Well?” she asked, as they began to walk along the path together. “What was it you wished to say?”

Now that it came to it, George found himself struggling for words, not quite sure how to reveal the truth to her.

“Lady Ellen,” he began, in a voice filled with tension and strain. “When I first met you, I was, in fact, more than a little rude.”

“You need not apologize again,” Lady Ellen said at once, taking his arm. “I have already told you thrice that your apology has been accepted.”

George cleared his throat, his words sticking to the roof of his mouth. “No, indeed. I quite understand. What I am trying to say is that I was angry with your rejection of me. I was upset that you did not look at me as other ladies did.”

“And so, I have become the object of your thoughts?” she asked, with a lilt to her voice. “You have become determined to capture my affections and so have tried to turn into the kind of gentleman I would begin to care for?”

The laughter in her voice made him pause, as he tried to find the words to tell her that, yes, this was exactly what he was doing. Only then did George realize that they had wandered further than he had intended, the lights from the lanterns already beginning to fade.

“We should turn back,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes as he made to turn around.

“Lord Hartley?”

He stopped and looked at her, seeing the way her eyes caught the moonlight. She was so beautiful that his heart began to ache with longing, forcing him to step closer—even though he knew he should be doing exactly the opposite.

“I must tell you now that I feel very confused over you, Lord Hartley,” she whispered, her breath fluttering across his cheek. “You have turned into the kind of gentleman I might consider. Indeed, I have struggled to get you from my mind these last weeks.”

“You are very bold to say so,” George replied haltingly, as she placed one delicate hand against his chest. “I would be lying if I did not say that I felt in much a similar way—although I know it can never be.”

“Why not?” she asked softly, still looking into his eyes. “Will you not consider courting me? If there is something between us, something that neither of us cannot deny, then I would not like to continue to ignore it. I have already moved away from the belief that you are not the gentleman you said you were, and in doing so, I believe my heart has opened to you all the more.”

George groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes tightly. The urge to lean down and kiss her was overwhelming his senses, making him want to scream in both frustration and longing.

“I cannot,” he whispered, looking back at her. “If you would just let me explain, I—”

His words were cut short, as a pair of soft lips gently touched his own.

It was all the encouragement George needed. Without thinking of what he was doing, he held Lady Ellen tightly and dropped his head, kissing her with all the passion he felt. The fact that he had not managed to tell her the truth was pushed from his mind, refusing to allow it to linger there. He wanted this moment to linger and to remember what it felt like to have her in his arms.

Only for another voice to rend the air. A voice he knew all too well.

Lord Morton.