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“I danced and tried the mulled wine and went into the garden with a few others to watch the snow fall,” Eliana said.

“That wine!” Hetty made a face. “Really, Lady Entwhistle’s cook needs to find a better recipe. Who did you go out into the garden with?”

Eliana took a sip of her chocolate to postpone answering. Hetty was too perceptive, despite her claims of being an unmindful companion.

“A group of young ladies,” Eliana said. “And a gentleman named Count Nikolai.”

Hetty’s brows went up. “I don’t believe I’ve met the man.”

“Nor will you. He’s leaving London today.” No doubt he was already gone.

“Don’t look so downcast, my dear. Perhaps he’ll return soon. Now, what gown would you like today? The green wool?”

The next half-hour was spent in dressing and arranging her hair, and when Eliana went down to breakfast she felt somewhat restored.

The scent of freshly baked dough and cinnamon filled the breakfast room, along with sunshine streaming through the windows. The warmth of the scene—her mother and father sitting at the table, cups of tea at hand, their hound Beatrice lying near the hearth—helped ease the tightness around Eliana’s heart.

“What a fine day,” her mother, Lady Blake, said. “Cook was inspired to make sweet rolls.”

“A pity it doesn’t snow more often,” Lord Blake said, patting his stomach.

“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Lady Blake gave her husband a look. He was overly fond of Cook’s baking.

“A letter came for you early, my dear.” Her father nodded to her place, where a cream-colored envelope sat beside her breakfast plate.

Miss Eliana Banningwas written in bold handwriting, followed by their address.

“I don’t recognize the hand,” Lady Blake said.

“Neither do I.” Eliana picked up the envelope.

Could it be from Count Nikolai? Her pulse sped at the thought.

She slit the paper open and drew out the short letter.

Mademoiselle Red, it began, and her heart pounded so loudly that Eliana was certain her parents would hear.

I admit I could not put you from my thoughts last night, and prevailed upon Lady Entwhistle to reveal who the lady in the red cloak was, along with your address.

I am writing to say that I am staying in London another day, in the hopes that we might meet again. Might I take you for a sleigh ride in Hyde Park this afternoon?

Regardless of your answer, I will call upon you at 1pm. I cannot depart town without laying eyes upon you once more, even if it is simply to have you send me on my way.

Yours most respectfully,

Count Bastian Nikolai

Eliana felt as though she’d swallowed a shard of sunlight—hot and bright and sharp. She re-folded the paper, her fingers trembling slightly.

“What is it, my dear?” her mother asked. “Is everything well?”

“Yes. I’ve received an invitation to go sleigh riding this afternoon.”

“From whom?” Her father’s voice held an edge.

“Count Nikolai of Kiev.” Eliana cleared her throat. “I was introduced to him last night, at the ball. He seemed to be a respectable gentleman.”

More or less. Rather less, if one counted the kiss in the garden.