He studied my face, searching for something. “Will she remarry, you think?”
“She might. In time. But it’s far from her mind at the moment.”
He was silent again for several beats, guiding me through a long turn. The music spun around us, but everything inside me had gone still. There was no danger now—no hunt, no shadow pressing in.
“She’s stronger than most gave her credit for,” I said quietly.
“So are you.”
There was something in his voice—low, almost reverent—that I wasn’t ready to face. Not here. Not now.
I turned away under the pretense of surveying the ballroom, letting my gaze drift across the sea of glittering gowns and tailored coats. In the distance, I spotted Lord Nicholas in conversation with his mother, the Duchess of Steele. Both were watching us with thinly veiled interest.
I inclined my head in their direction. “Lord Nicholas appears to have recovered his spirits.”
“He has,” Steele replied. “A bit of solitude at the Richmond estate did him good.”
“And perhaps a word or two from his elder brother?”
“I may have suggested he was making a cake of himself.”
My lips curved despite myself, though I kept any reply to myself. Amusement warred with the strange ache low in my chest—a feeling I had no desire to name.
The music softened, signaling the end of the set. Steele’s hand lingered at my back for the briefest moment before he stepped away just enough to meet my gaze.
“There’s a conservatory just off the ballroom,” he said quietly. “Glass walls, warm air, and a few thriving orchids. It’s quiet enough to talk—without giving the gossips anything new to whisper about.”
It was a thoughtful offer, beautifully calculated. I ached to say yes. To follow him into that warm, green quiet and let the rest of the world melt away.
But as I glanced across the ballroom, I caught sight of Chrissie—laughing up at her dance partner, cheeks flushed, eyes alight with something close to joy. She looked radiant, untouched by scandal for the first time in weeks.
I couldn’t risk drawing attention now.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But I can’t. This is Chrissie’s night. I won’t risk turning it into mine.”
Steele studied me for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a nod of quiet understanding, he stepped back.
“Another time, then.”
“Perhaps,” I said, knowing how badly I wished it could be now.
He disappeared once more into the press of silk and music, leaving behind the echo of his touch and a truth I could no longer deny.
I remained where I was, still and composed amid the swirl of music and motion, but inside, everything trembled.
How I wanted to follow him. Not for secrecy or scandal or some foolish romantic thrill, but for something far quieter—and far more dangerous.
I wanted to sit beside him in the soft warmth of that conservatory. To speak plainly. To rest, if only for a moment, inthe company of someone who had seen me at my sharpest, my most determined, and still called melovely.
It wasn’t just desire. It waspeaceI longed for. The kind of peace I had spent my entire adult life denying myself in service to duty, reputation, and the ever-watchful eyes of society. I had not allowed myself to dream of tenderness, of partnership—not really. And yet, with him, I’d begun to.
But I couldn’t afford the indulgence. Not while Chrissie’s name still hung in the balance, not while Petunia still needed my steadiness, not while the Rosehaven legacy rested so heavily on my shoulders.
So I stood still, spine straight, chin lifted, and let the moment pass me by like so many others.
Perhaps, one day, I would be free to reach for what my heart most desired.
But tonight, I was Lady Rosalynd Rosehaven—sister, protector, and scandal’s most unwilling shadow. The conservatory would remain empty.
