The following morning, Eliza chose not to meet Phillip for her morning walk. Confused over her feelings towards him, she decided to remain in bed, waiting for the maid to bring her the usual cup of tea.

However, the knock at the door was not her maid, but her sister. It was highly unusual for her to be awake so early, although Eliza welcomed her in.

“How do you feel?” Sophie asked, sitting on the end of Eliza’s bed. “Are you quite recovered?”

Remembering that she had pleaded a headache the previous evening, Eliza nodded. "Much better, I thank you. Did you have a pleasant evening?"

“Indeed!” Sophie grinned, enthusiastically. “There were some performances at the pianoforte, and Lord Stockton sang a beautiful solo. I am quite sorry that you missed it.”

“Oh,” Eliza replied faintly. “I did not know that he sang.”

There was silence for a moment as Eliza digested the knowledge that she perhaps did not know Lord Stockton as well as she thought. “And how is Mama?” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

"I have barely seen her," replied Sophie, laughing a little. "She is having a marvelous time with Lady Bessington. I have only spoken a few words to her since we arrived."

Eliza smiled at her sister, glad that her mother was having a lovely time with her friend. “What about you?” she asked. “You are having a good time also?”

Surprised to see a slight blush on her sister’s face as she nodded yes, Eliza put it to one side as the maid arrived to bring her the usual cup of tea. At Sophie’s request, the maid brought a cup for her, and the sisters enjoyed a few moments of silence as they relished the strong brew.

“It is most unlike you to be awake before the tea has arrived,” Eliza began, quirking an eyebrow at her sister. “What has got you so excited to be awake at this hour?”

“The ball!” Sophie cried, the tea pitching dangerously to one side of her cup. “I quite forgot to tell you. Lady Bessington has announced that there is to be a ball at the end of the week and, even better, the earl is to be in attendance.”

Trying to show some kind of excitement, Eliza felt her stomach lurch. Lord Penn would want the necklace that evening, as he had said in his letter.

"We have some time to prepare, so Mama has sent a servant back home to collect our best dresses," her sister continued, unaware of Eliza's lack of enthusiasm. "Mama has chosen the blue silk for you, and I am to wear the red ball gown." Putting her tea to one side, she got off Eliza's bed and twirled around the room in excitement.

"It is said," Sophie began again, throwing herself backward onto Eliza's bed, "that the earl is a most eligible gentleman, although he has never shown any great interest in any particular lady. Mayhap you shall catch his eye." She winked at Eliza, who tried to smile back.

“You do not wish to catch his eye, Sophie?”

There was that blush again. "No, I do not think I would care for the earl," Sophie mumbled, almost to herself. "No, there is someone else's eye I would very much like to catch."

Stopping herself from saying too much, Sophie jumped off the bed, giving Eliza a quick kiss before exiting the room, leaving her sister wondering as to whom it might be.

“Are you quite well, my dear?”

John took her hand, pressing a kiss to it as she looked into his eyes. How strange that his touch did not excite her in the same way that the gardener’s had.

“Of course, John, I am perfectly at ease,” Eliza replied firmly, choosing to focus on the present for the time being. She took his arm. “Should you care for a stroll around the grounds?”

“Certainly,” John replied, patting her hand. “The rest of the party should be here soon, so we should not stray too far.”

They walked in silence, the only sound the crunching of the gravel beneath their feet. Why could she think of nothing to say?

“I missed you last evening,” John began, as they walked around the side of the great house. “It was not the same without the pleasure of your company.”

“I missed you also,” Eliza lied, hating that the words of untruth slipped so easily from her tongue. “My sister tells me you sang, and that it was a most beautiful rendition.”

“That is very kind of Sophie,” John replied. Eliza frowned, surprised at John’s use of her sister’s given name. She supposed they would be family soon enough, so perhaps it could be forgiven.

John suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a small alcove.

“John,” she gasped. “Whatever are you doing?”

John's only response was to slam his lips down on hers, crushing her body against him. Stunned with surprise, Eliza struggled to react appropriately, feeling overwhelmed by his ardor. His lips were insistent, as though he was trying to force a reaction from her, but Eliza found no pleasure in his caress. John tightened his grip around her waist, knocking her bonnet back and pulling pins from her carefully arranged hair.

“Why do you not respond to me?” John asked angrily, suddenly wrenching himself from her. “Why do you feel so cold?”

Completely taken aback by his sudden vehemence, Eliza was left staring at him, mouth agape. “I try to kiss you, to let you know how I feel, and you barely move. You do not act like a woman in love, my dear.” He took a few steps away from her, his fists clenched.

“I have never said that I loved you, John,” Eliza responded hotly, feeling a flush of anger. “Not once! How presumptuous of you to assume so.”

They both stared at one another, breathing hard. John's face was still angry in a way she had never seen before. This was not the John she knew. Taking a few deep breaths, Eliza calmed herself, seeing John do the same.

"I apologize, my dear," he said, his face still flushed but his tone slightly mocking. “I presumed too great a familiarity.” He bowed slightly, his tone reducing still further. “I only wish to prove to you the depths of my affection.”

Slightly pacified, Eliza made her way to his side, taking his hand in her own gloved one. "I understand that, John, but pulling me to a corner and almost forcing yourself upon me is no way to show your feelings. I have not been kissed before," she blushed a little, "and need to learn such things slowly." She looked up at him, seeing from his face that he understood. His hand touched her face, and he leaned down to gently brush her bruised lips with his own.

“I understand, my dear.” His face softened as he gazed at her. “Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

“It is given, of course,” she responded, tucking her hand under his arm, walking together back towards the house.

The rest of the party had made their way to the waiting carriages and had clearly been waiting for their return.

“I must fetch a few pins from my room,” Eliza said, her cheeks heating as she saw the knowing glances. “Pray, go on ahead. I can see that Mama and Lady Bessington have not yet come to join us, I shall go in their carriage.”

“You are certain?” John replied, turning to face her. “I am happy to wait for you.”

"Please, don't trouble yourself," Eliza replied, needing some time apart from Lord Stockton to sort out the muddle of feelings going on inside. "I shall see you at the picnic." Acquiescing, John bowed over her hand, assuring her he would ask her mother to wait, before making his way toward one of the waiting carriages.

Eliza stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing her own reflection. Her lips were swollen. and her cheeks patched with red. Her hair was untidy, her bonnet hanging uselessly down her back. Was this what a woman in love was supposed to look like? Pulling the remaining pins from her hair, she brushed her hair quickly, braiding it and then pinning the braid in a tight coil. It was simple, but it was neat. Replacing her bonnet, she made her way back to the entrance.

There were no carriages waiting for her, no smiling face of her mother beckoning her to join them. John had promised he would ask them to remain for her, and either he had forgotten, or her mother had left without her. She closed her eyes in frustration, trying to stop the threatening tears. She had cried too much of late. Her eyes turned to the woods. There was little chance of Phillip’s presence, but she needed a place to be alone, away from the prying eyes of the servants.

Anthony was surprised at how much he’d missed Eliza that morning. Although he had waited for her a good length of time, it had become apparent that she wouldn’t be joining him and, by then, he’d hadn’t felt like taking a walk alone.

He’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about her, although he tried to convince himself that it was merely an attempt to find a way out of her situation, and not an appreciation of her beautiful eyes and long, blonde hair. Since then, he’d spent the day closeted in his study, as usual, hearing the voices and laughter of his mother’s house guests all around him. The butler had told him that they’d be leaving for a picnic in the early afternoon and wouldn’t be returning until much later. Anthony had breathed a long sigh of relief.