Alyssa looked up at the man standing before her and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again and this time found her voice. “You do me great honor, Your Grace.”

She placed her trembling hand atop his extended arm and walked with him to the dance floor. He took her in his arms, and on legs that threatened not to hold her, they began their waltz.

The couples on the floor reacted exactly as Alyssa knew they would. Some gave her their backs to exhibit their disgust, as well as their displeasure, then exited the floor. Others ignored her as if the Duke of Townsend hadn’t partnered her. Others stayed on the floor, but kept as far away from her as possible.

Alyssa didn’t care what reaction she received. All that was important to her was that someone, a duke no less, had welcomed her back into Society. This was important―not for herself, because she could survive not being accepted back into Society―but for her daughter Elizabeth, who could not. Alyssa would not let Society’s vicious gossip and slanderous remarks ruin her daughter’s chance to make a good match when she had her come-out.

It might take several more attempts and uncomfortable nights like tonight, but this was the first step. And the Duke of Townsend had made it possible. The question she wanted to ask was why he’d done it.

He didn’t want to be out here with her. That was obvious by his lack of conversation, by the stiffness in his movements. And by the fact that he had yet to look her in the eyes.

And yet, the fact that he’d asked her to dance had done more for her reputation than anything he could have done or said. He was a duke, after all. One of the most well-respected members of the ton. One of the most influential men in London. Even the Queen valued his opinion on certain matters. So why had he asked her to dance?

Together they moved across the floor, his steps confident and steady, hers rusty and hesitant. It had been more than a year since she’d last danced. It took all her concentration not to falter in the steps of the dance. Which she would have managed if she hadn’t let her gaze shift to the side of the dance floor. To a spot where a group of Society’s most vicious gossips stood whispering amongst themselves.

Alyssa knew who they were whispering about. It was obvious from the pointed glares they shot in her direction.

She took her next step, and her legs gave out beneath her. She stumbled, but His Grace caught her and pulled her to him.

“Hold on to me, my lady. You need some air.”

Thankfully, they were near the open double doors that led out onto the terrace. He expertly moved her toward the fluttering drapery that flanked the doors, then out into the cool night air.

“Don’t let go of me,” he said as he led her to the corner of the terrace where she could lean against the balustrade. When she was close enough to touch the railing, she sagged against it.

Her legs trembled beneath her and the air she needed to breathe didn’t seem in ample supply.

His Grace stepped closer and turned her to allow her to sit on the ledge of the railing. His fingers held her as if she needed his strength and support to remain upright. She did.

“Take several deep breaths, my lady,” he said.

Alyssa did as he said. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Her head eventually stopped spinning, and the ringing in her ears faded. “Thank you,” she said.

When he said nothing in response, she lifted her gaze. Her breath caught.

His expression contained not a hint of compassion, nor a modicum of concern. What she saw caused a hard lump to drop to the pit of her stomach.

He focused his gaze out into the darkness, to a spot over her head, on something he couldn’t possibly see. And more frightening, his eyes were cold as ice, lacking any warmth whatsoever.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you ask me to dance?”

Alyssa waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. She realized he had no intention of answering her. That perhaps he didn’t know why he’d asked her to dance. Or, more disheartening, maybe he regretted having asked her.

She reached deep inside herself to find any scrap of courage she hadn’t used yet, and forced herself to gain control of her emotions. “You may release me now, Your Grace.” She struggled to keep her voice steady, her tone confident. “I am recovered.”

Alyssa held her breath until he loosened his hands from her arms and stepped away from her. When he released her, he turned his back on her the same as the guests in the ballroom had.

For some reason she didn’t understand, his rejection was more difficult to endure than any had been earlier. His dismissal angered her to the point that she wanted to lash out at him.

“I wish to be alone, Your Grace. Please, go back inside before we draw attention.”

She knew although the words she’d spoken had been polite, her tone had not been. What should have been a request was not. But an order. His Grace did not misinterpret her meaning.

“Are you asking me to leave, countess? Or insisting?”

“Interpret my words however you wish, Your Grace. You have already concluded much about me. I therefore see little point in explaining a few spoken words.”

He turned on her.

In the moonlight, Alyssa noticed his towering height as well as the strength and breadth of his shoulders. She observed his battle-ready stance, and the powerful stature that made the Duke of Townsend one of the most formidable men in Society. Everything about him warned her to be wary, but she was past heeding any warning the voice inside her issued.

She could not ascertain his exact age, but she recalled her husband mentioning that the Duke of Townsend had been a year or two younger than himself at school. Which put His Grace at nearing his fiftieth year, but probably not yet having reached it. His appearance as a man in his prime confirmed it.

Alyssa knew she should apologize for her outburst. The harsh look he leveled at her told her he expected her to. But she was too angry to be cowed by him. Her husband had died tragically, and not one person had come to offer their condolences. After all, why would they console the woman they were convinced had murdered her own husband? She’d stood alone at his graveside, and not one of Society’s elite came to offer her their support. And tonight, she’d been rejected by every person in the ballroom. Except by him.

Befriending her one minute and turning on her the next was salt in the wound.

“Why did you come tonight?” he asked.

She took a step away from the railing to face him. “What would you have me do, Your Grace? Hide away in the country as if I were guilty of the crime I’ve been accused of committing?”

“Are you saying you are innocent?”

“Of course I’m innocent,” she cried out.

She knew what Society thought she’d done. She knew the silly disagreement she and Kendrick had publicly engaged in that horrid night had given rise to the rumor that she had killed him. They didn’t know the truth. No one did.

“But the reports say—”

“The reports are wrong.”

“Then why haven’t you stated your innocence?”

“I just did. To you. Did you believe me?”

“According to the reports you were there when your husband died. Why didn’t you cooperate more with the authorities?”

It was easy to look back and see how guilty she’d looked, how easy it must have been for the authorities to suspect her. How easy it was for all of Society to believe she’d murdered her husband.

There was no sign that their home had been broken into, and most of the staff had been away in Yorkshire, attending the funeral of their beloved young footman. Neither the maid nor valet in the servants’ quarters on the third floor had heard a thing. The fact that half of London’s elite had seen her argue with her husband in public earlier that evening only confirmed her guilt in everyone’s eyes. And she’d been so overwhelmed by grief, her thoughts were barely coherent when the authorities questioned her.

She was the only one who knew that her husband had returned from some unknown errand, and thought he was being followed.

“Clearly, Your Grace, thanks to the wagging tongues of my friends,” she waved a fluttery hand toward the ballroom door before she continued, “the authorities considered me a greater threat to my husband than anything he might have encountered beyond our gate.”

The heavy burden she carried seemed more hopeless. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. To battle Society on her own, as she’d always known she’d have to do. To claw her way back into the good graces of the people who had turned their backs on her. And she would do it.

She’d return to event after event after event, until someone admired her bravery enough not to turn their backs on her. Until one of the friends she and Kendrick had shared realized that she wasn’t capable of committing his murder.

She lifted her chin and took in a deep breath, praying that her confidence didn’t wane. “I think we’ve said enough. I’d like to be alone now. Please, leave me.”

The Duke of Townsend gave her a curt nod, then turned his back on her. “As you wish,” he said, then stepped toward the open ballroom door.

Before he stepped inside, he stopped and turned back to her. “Why did you come tonight? Why now? Why not wait a little longer?”

His question angered her. “How much longer would you have me wait to show my face again, Your Grace?”

“Perhaps until your husband’s death wasn’t quite so vivid in Society’s memory.”

“It has been fourteen months since Kendrick’s death. If the multitude of scandals that have happened in that time haven’t dulled Society’s memory, what makes you think another six months, or twelve months, or ten years would make any difference?”

“Perhaps a little more time would have helped. But I think there is another reason. What is it?”

Alyssa considered what she was about to say. What could be hurt by telling him? “Very well. If you must know. There are actually two reasons it’s important that I am accepted back into Society. The first is my daughter. Elizabeth. She will need to have her come-out in a few years, and I couldn’t force this upon her until I’d paved the way for her acceptance.”

“And the second reason?”

She hesitated. Not sure of what to say. Finally, she said aloud the plan she’d kept hidden inside. “It is my suspicion that someone in Society is responsible for my husband’s death. I intend to find out who that person is.”

The surprise on the Duke of Townsend’s face was startling.

“You cannot be serious.”

She smiled. “Can’t I?”

“Why would you be so foolish as to put yourself in danger?”

“I did not kill my husband, and I refuse to allow my daughter to live with the scandal that Society has labeled her mother a murderer.”

Alyssa stared at the Duke of Townsend and saw the shocked look on his face. “Now, please give me a moment alone before I must face the lions again.”

He gave her a respectful nod of farewell, then turned away from her. She couldn’t allow him to leave before she asked the one question that nagged at her.

“Your Grace? Why did you ask me to dance?”

He hesitated for several long seconds. When he spoke, his words were like a punch to her stomach.

“Because I owed your husband a debt. I now consider it paid in full,” he said. And he left her.

The Duke of Townsend stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace. They were dying. The logs were almost ashes, and still he stared.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d returned from the Billingsworth ball, but knew it had been a long while. And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Over and over he asked himself why he’d danced with her, but had yet to come up with a reason that was believable.

At first he told himself it was because of that day in the schoolyard when her husband had defended him. He tried to convince himself he owed the late Earl of Lindleigh a debt, and wanted to repay it. Then he told himself it was because she’d been embroiled in a scandal very much like the scandal that could have destroyed his own family.

But the truth of the matter was how alone and unprotected she’d looked standing at the top of the stairs. How brave she’d appeared standing before hundreds of the most influential members of Society. All of whom hated her as fiercely as they’d loved Lindleigh. He could see his daughter Winnifred braving those same lions if Ernesta’s crimes had become public and he prayed there would be someone to come to her aid.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, he believed her when she said she hadn’t killed her husband. And even more frightening, he believed that she intended to find her husband’s murderer.

Edward sat for several long minutes and drank the brandy in his glass. He knew he had no choice but to see the Countess of Lindleigh again. The queen had commanded him to do so. Even if associating with another female was the last thing he wanted to do in this lifetime.

He’d had enough dealings with females he didn’t trust to last an eternity.