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Normally, she would never ask for spirits of any kind. In fact, it had been a family joke how she could never hold down alcohol of any sort, and even their mama had always,alwayswarned her against drinking spirits of any sort when she was in a public setting.

But Phoebe felt as if she was breaking apart from the guilt and confusion that stirred within her.

Sheneededsomething to fortify her for at least long enough until she could politely excuse herself from the celebrations.Besides, she was not going to drink much. A glass would be perfectly fine for what she needed.

The footman returned with her drink, and she accepted the glass with a grateful smile.

She watched from afar as Colin led her sister around the ballroom, her hand tucked protectively in the crook of his elbow. Alice was glowing with the happiness of a mother—a rather striking contrast to Miss Delaney, who had looked gaunt and miserable in comparison.

Phoebe trembled as she held the glass up to her lips. Suddenly, her parched throat demanded more than just a sip.

She needed the entire glass.

The wine blazed a trail of liquid fire down her throat, causing her to gag behind her gloved hand.

How embarrassing.

But the wine had fulfilled its role, and it was doing amarvelousjob.

Not even a few minutes after she finished the entire wretched glass, she suddenly felt lightheaded andlightat the same time. As if the burdens she had been carrying earlier justslidoff of her.

It is no wonder that people often drown their sorrows in wine!

The immediate effect was nothing short of miraculous, and in her current emotional state, she needed nothing short of amiracle.

Fortunately, divine intervention came in the form of mind-altering spirits, and she soon found the courage to leave her post by the pillar and perhaps join the rest of the party…

… only to stumble sideways and crash into someone else.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed as politely as she could.

“Your Grace?” an astonished voice asked.

She looked up to find an equally astonished Lord Dexford, his brow furrowed anxiously as he held her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked her cautiously.

“Perfectly fine.” Phoebe nodded. “I… I think I may have had alittletoo much to drink.”

The Viscount looked at her with some amusement, which she found rather offensive. Why did men find it entertaining when women try to drink away their problems, when they did itallthe time?

Even Ethan had regarded her with great hilarity and maybe some concern that night she went out dressed as a man.

But would he be concerned about her now?

Phoebe immediately sobered up at the thought.

“I think you may need to sit down,” Lord Dexford told her in a strangely patronizing tone.

“I can manage well enough on my own, thank you very much!” Phoebe huffed, yanking her arm out of his grip.

She stumbled forward a couple of steps before the Viscount caught her and carried her to a sofa in a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes.

“You can rest here,” he advised her. “Wait until the alcohol wears off a little bit.”

Now that she was properly seated, the world around her seemed to tilt and sway a little more before it settled perfectly.

“I think I will be fine here, Lord Dexford,” she told him with a grateful smile. “You do not need to keep me company.”