The Fairmont Ball was a crush, but that had been Lady Fairmont’s intention all along. Some even suggested that she’d had decorative panels installed inches from the actual walls to reduce the size of the ballroom and make it feel even more crowded. The heat in the room was overwhelming and Augusta fanned herself quite furiously.

“Stop that! This isn’t the Indies, girl!”

The admonishment had come from Mrs. Haywood, a friend of her grandfather’s who had agreed, for reasons unknown to her, to take her about in society. Dutifully, Augusta slowed the pace of her fanning and instantly felt bereft of the small breeze she had created.

“Such enthusiastic exertion is hardly ladylike, Augusta,” Mrs. Haywood added. “Always be mindful that others are watching and judging, girl. If I teach you nothing else about society, let that always be remembered.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Augusta replied easily.

“Now, look alive, girl. He’s headed your way again,” Mrs. Haywood added with a triumphant grin. “I think you’ve snagged the biggest fish in the room.”

Augusta felt a blush creep up her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. She didn’t even pretend to be coy about knowing which fish Mrs. Haywood meant to name. It was Lord Elwynn, of course. He was lauded by one and and all as the most eligible bachelor of the season, but that had nothing to do with her blush or the way her heart suddenly thundered in her chest because he was near.

At nineteen, Augusta was just a bit older than most girls experiencing their first season and considered by many to be on the shelf already. That she was perched on the cusp of spinsterhood seemed to matter little to him as he had paid particular attention to her since they had met. Not so much that it created the wrong kind of gossip, but it had been remarked upon.

He was everything that was proper, and yet when he smiled at her, she could not help but feel there was a little wickedness in him. It was enticing. When he paused before them, sketching a bow, he wore that very smile and her thundering heart seemed to skip, losing its rhythm. As he rose, his dark hair dipped rakishly over his brow and the smile he bestowed on them transformed his handsome face into something beyond description. Heat suffused her and a longing that she didn’t quite understand filled her at his nearness.

“Good evening, Mrs. Haywood, Miss Penworth,” he said. On her name, his voice dipped slightly, and a shiver washed through her. “If I may, Miss Penworth, you are looking exceptionally lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, Lord Elwynn. You honor us with your attentions,” she said from behind her fan.

“It is I who am honored, Miss Penworth, to have them so graciously received. Are you engaged you for the next dance?”

“No, my lord, I am not,” she said. She’d intentionally lied to other suitors and claimed to be engaged because she’d hoped that he would ask.

“Then be so kind as to allow me to claim it,” he stated.

“Gladly, my lord,” she replied.

There was no further talk under Mrs. Haywood’s watchful eye as the orchestra struck up the first chord to mark the beginning of the next set. Lord Elwynn offered her his arm and she took it gratefully.

As they took their positions in the line of dancers, facing one another, he said, “You are very quiet, Miss Penworth. Most girls at these events are loud and overly gay in their actions and speech. And yet you remain aloof, but I do not think we bore you with our dances and parlor games, do we?”

Augusta blushed again, this time from embarrassment. “Not at all, my lord. If I am quiet, it is not lack of gaiety at these lovely events or company, but rather the desire to not miss a moment of it by speaking rather than observing.”

He moved past her, circling behind her as he executed the steps to perfection. Once again facing her, he replied, “So you are an observer… a scientist if you will, making a study of all that comprises gaiety?”

“Hardly so lofty a thing, my lord,” she uttered, stepping past him and completing her circuit. “Merely that I have not been long in society and still find the rules and traditions to be somewhat confusing. I would rather be perceived as quiet and aloof than as fast, or heaven forbid, rude.”

“So you are a cautious girl, then, Miss Penworth? One who takes the weight and measure of every situation before deciding her course?”

They joined hands, turned to face the couple dancing beside them, dipping and swaying to the music. “That is an accurate assessment, I feel, though not a flattering one.”

“On the contrary, Miss Penworth. I cannot think of higher praise to give a person than to attest to the carefulness of their behavior and the thoughtfulness of their character. You are all things exemplary… all things that a man would desire in a wife.”

Her steps did not falter, though her breath did. “You put me to blush, my lord.”

“And a lovely blush it is.”

The dance turned again and they were once more facing one another which made the slightly intimate nature of their conversation even more so.

“I would call on you tomorrow if you permit it,” he said, and there was a fervency in his tone that alerted her to a greater meaning. It was no idle visit. “I have a most particular matter that I would discuss with you… but only if your grandfather is present.”

Augusta felt a fluttering in her stomach, nerves simply taking flight. “I cannot imagine that he would not be at home to receive you, my lord.”

The music shifted again and they stepped closer to one another, their arms raised up as they twirled together in the intricate steps. “You must know what I mean to ask him… that I would desire your hand in marriage,” he said.

“I confess to being hopeful, my lord, but would never presume anything so grand.”

He smiled again. “Cautious still… I will be imprudent for the both of us then. I mean to ask for your hand, Miss Penworth, but I must beg your mercy and ask for some inkling of knowledge, some hint of what your answer might be.”

“I can only say, Lord Elwynn, that were you to ever put forth such a question, my answer could only be yes.”

“Because I am Lord Elwynn?”

“No. Because you smile at me and it puts me to blush,” she replied, just as the music ended.

He took her arm, but made slow work of escorting her back to Mrs. Haywood. “I would have another dance when you are free. And yet one more after that.”

“More than two dances would be viewed as a declaration, my lord,” she reminded him.

“And as a declaration is what I intend to make, Miss Penworth, I see no reason to hesitate.”

“I cannot, my lord,” she said softly. “I do so wish that I could be like these other girls… that I could laugh and flirt, and hover on that cusp between respectability and scandalous behavior. But alas I am not. I am the cautious creature you named me, and I will gladly give you a second dance… and I will quietly bemoan the fact that I must deny you a third.”

He took her hands in his, holding them for a moment longer than necessary as he returned her to Mrs. Haywood’s side. “Your reticence does you credit, though it goads me to admit it. I will be back for my second dance at the top of the hour… And I will see you on the morrow.”

* * *

Hugh left her though it pained him to do so. From the very moment he’d laid eyes on her months earlier, he’d thought her the most exceptional creature. The quiet dignity with which she conducted herself was so different from the tittering and incessant chatter of other young women. Of course, it could also be that he was so thoroughly charmed by her beauty that he’d happily overlook almost any deficit. Tall and lithe with lush curves and a wealth of dark hair, he’d be hard pressed to describe a more perfect woman.

“I saw you dancing with her, Fitzhugh!”

He sighed as he heard the censorious voice of his mother whispering near him. She’d hissed the words out between clenched teeth.

Hugh had reached his limit with her interference and her disapproval. Her only objection to Miss Penworth was the lack of fortune as the marriageable misses she continued to thrust in his path had no greater social consequence than Augusta had. He would not sacrifice his happiness to her greed when they were more than secure financially. “Yes, Mother. I danced with her. And I mean to dance with her again, so if it is that upsetting to you then I might suggest that you avert your eyes.”

“Do not by so flippant with me, young man,” she scolded. “That girl has nothing to offer you! She has no fortune, no cachet, no connections… What are you thinking?”

“That I love her. That she is a fine woman, beautiful and kind and has a brain in her head for more than the latest fashions… I think, Mother, that I intend to wed her as soon as such can be arranged,” he stated firmly.

Lady Elwynn drew back as if she’d been struck. “You cannot be serious! And keep your voice down. If such a declaration were overheard it could ruin us!”

“I can. I am,” he insisted. “I will not be moved on this. And I don’t care if it ruins us.”

“And Miss Redmond?”

Hugh frowned at her. “I have given her no hope nor have I given her any indication of interest. Simply because you and her mother wax poetic about the perfection of a union between us does not necessitate action on my part. You made the mess, mother. You clean it up.”

“You are an ungrateful boy… So like your father.”

She’d managed his father into an early grave. The stress of living with her, with her schemes and machinations and her driving need to control every detail of the lives of everyone around her had killed him. Hugh would not allow her to do the same to him. “I am not a boy… I am a man, and I am not one to be trifled with or dictated to. I’ve no need to marry for wealth, connections or cachet. I mean to follow my heart and if that is the final disappointment that I must offer you before you sever all ties with me, so be it.”

“I would never do anything so scandalous,” she said stiffly. “Can you imagine what people would say?”

“Then you will settle yourself with my choice of bride,” he said. “For I will not have her tormented every day by your disapproval.”

“You may choose your own future, Fitzhugh. You cannot make me like it,” she answered in a huff and stalked away.

Hugh sighed heavily as he walked away in search of libations more bracing that the tepid lemonade offered in the ballroom. Any exchange with his mother left him wanting to dive headfirst into the nearest decanter of brandy.

Once in the card room, availing himself of a hefty snifter of his host’s best brandy, Hugh settled into one of the nearby chairs to watch the play. Gambling was not for him. He preferred more certain returns on his investment, but it never ceased to amaze him that his peers would rest their very destiny on the turn of a card.

As he poured himself a second glass, a footman entered bearing a hand written note on a silver tray. “My lord,” the footman said, bowing deeply.

Hugh took the note and opened it, reading the simple lines written there in an elegant hand at least three times.

I have decided to throw caution to the wind and court scandal after all. Meet me in the blue drawing room at the top of the hour.

The note was not signed, but it could only be from Miss Penworth. Augusta, he thought. In his mind, he’d long since been making free with her given name. Checking the clock on the mantle, he saw that the time was short.

“Where is the blue drawing room?” he asked the footman.

“Down the corridor, my lord. Tis the last door on the left.”

Hugh nodded and headed in that direction. He was blissfully unaware of the trio watching him from the end of the hall. His mother stood next to Mrs. Redmond and on her left was Miss Daisy Watson, the betrothed of his neighbor and oldest friend, the Honorable Mr. Simon Atwell. Had he seen the three of them there, he might have been more cautious, he might have been more suspicious of such out of character behavior. But he was not thinking clearly, his wits were addled by brandy and infatuation. The promise of a stolen kiss in a darkened room was more lure than he could resist.

Entering the drawing room, he saw only the silhouette of a woman in the dark, seated on a small settee near the fire. He approached her cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

“Augusta,” he said softly.

“No, my lord… Felicity,” she said as she rose to her feet and turned toward him. “I needed to speak with you and I needed to do so privately.”

Hugh drew back, immediately sensing that he had willfully walked into a trap. “I cannot be here with you. It is improper.”

“But you would be here with Miss Penworth, improper or not, wouldn't you?” she demanded, stepping closer to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and rose on her tiptoes until their lips were scant inches apart.

“Miss Redmond,” he began, grasping her upper arms and holding her away from him. Uncertain of how to phrase his response, he paused for a moment, but in the end opted for brutal honesty. “I am in love with Miss Penworth. It is not a reflection of your beauty or your charm or your worthiness that my heart is engaged elsewhere. I beg you not to make this difficult. I understand that my mother has made statements that led you to believe I had intentions in other directions, but I can assure you that is not the case.”

She cocked her head. “You really mean that, don’t you? You love her when she has nothing to recommend her?”

“She has many things to recommend her, but they do not include a fortune or connections,” he said. “Regardless, I mean to marry her. I’ve already spoken of my intentions to her and she is amenable.”

Her face fell, a picture of dejection. But then panic set in, her eyes went wide and she uttered a damning phrase. “Then you should go, quickly! Now, before they arrive.”

A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he let her go abruptly. But it was not quickly enough. The door to the drawing room burst open. His mother stood there, along with Mrs. Redmond, Miss Daisy Watson and their hostess, the most avid gossipmonger in all of society, Lady Fairmont.

“What is the meaning of this, Lord Elwynn?” Mrs. Redmond demanded. “How dare you!”

“I’m shocked at your willful disregard for this young woman’s reputation, Fitzhugh,” his mother said. “You will do the right thing… Will you not?”

Hugh stared at the dawning horror of his future, at the carefully orchestrated downfall of all his plans. The smug smile that curved his mother’s lips was proof enough.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know you truly loved her. I was told that it was just a flirtation sparked by rebellion,” Miss Redmond murmured. “I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” he asked. “You’ve all gotten what you wanted. Have the banns read. Tell me where to be and when to be there.”

She blinked at him. “Just like that?”

“No… not just like that. First, I have to face Augusta Penworth in the morning and tell her I’ve become engaged to another woman when I just tonight expressed my desire to propose to her after securing grandfather’s permission on the morrow,” he said bitterly. “After that, I intend to drink myself into oblivion and stay that way until this fiasco is settled.”

“I am so terribly sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean it.”

“They did,” he said. “And whether you meant it or not, here we are. We’ll be wed… and none of us to people of our own choosing.”

Hugh turned and walked away, passing his mother as she stood in the doorway, smug and victorious. “You’ve gotten what you wanted, haven’t you? By fair means or foul, you’ve managed it.”

“I’ve only ever wanted what is best for you, Fitzhugh,” she said haughtily. “And Miss Penworth is not it.”

He paused for a moment. “You’ve made a grave tactical error in lying to Miss Redmond. Because now she feels guilty. She feels wronged by you also… and that means when I toss you from Elwynn House, she’ll not offer a word of protest. For all her lack of connections and cachet, Augusta Penworth would have been a soft hearted mistress of that house… she would have happily let you stay there and continue running the household to your satisfaction. You, Mother, have engineered yourself right out of your own home. Enjoy it.”

He let that simmer as he walked away. He’d remain sober enough to call on Augusta and make his apologies. Then he’d drown himself in brandy until the entire debacle was over.