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A va’s ball was, as should be expected, a raging success.

And Sarah had her first taste of what her new life would be like, participating with the Laynes in greeting their guests.

Standing beside the duke and receiving the congratulations of the ton en masse was intimidating.

For the first time, she thought Robert’s idea of holding the wedding at The Castle might have some merit.

It would at least limit the number of people she would have to deal with.

She was in part still reeling from Robert’s kisses the previous afternoon.

And that had come on top of their tumultuous conversation, which had put her through so many emotions that by the end of it she didn’t know what she was feeling.

She had managed to avoid being alone with him again after that, not a very difficult task as she was caught up with the preparations for the ball, and he, like his brothers, beat a retreat from the feminine chaos.

She had been rather brutal toward him, and he’d taken it better than she would have thought he would.

Her anger found outlet in a bluntness that she would never have thought herself capable of previously.

He had apologized, and his kisses had devastated her, leaving her more alarmed than ever over her loss of control.

It seemed he only had to touch her for her to lose all sense and reason.

She did feel guilty about one thing. She had led him to think she had a partiality for Lannister, which wasn’t true. She did like the man, and she was grateful for his kind offer to rescue her from her circumstances, but she wasn’t in love with him.

She hadn’t been able to resist feeding the duke’s ire in regard to him because he seemed to be jealous, and God forgive her, she liked the idea of being able to arouse any such emotion within him!

Though she had berated herself quite severely for that lapse.

But if he is jealous, doesn’t it mean he cares a little?

her heart prompted. It’s just his possessive pride!

countered her head, determined to think the worst of his motivations.

That doesn’t excuse me deceiving him in the matter, objected her conscience, and she winced internally, ashamed of herself.

Released from the receiving line, she found herself paired with Kenrick for the first dance, as precedence demanded that Robert lead the duchess out, and Hereward therefore Ava, leaving herself for Kenrick.

Kenrick, she had decided, was as audacious as he was charming. This impression was consolidated by the first few minutes on the dance floor with him.

“You’re the perfect fit for my brother, you know,” he said, twirling her neatly.

“In what way?”

“Well, you’re a vicar’s daughter, a good girl. Robert is the good one, and I’m the bad one. Hereward is somewhere in the middle.”

“I see.”

“Rob’s the most honorable, upstanding man I’ve ever met. Irritates the hell out of me that he’s my brother, because I can’t ever quite measure up. I’ve made an art form out of doing the wrong thing, and he’s the opposite. You know he can’t even tell a lie?”

“Oh.” Sarah digested that in silence as they moved round the dance floor.

If his family were to be believed, Robert was incapable of the sort of duplicity she had accused him of.

The evidence was mounting that she had misread his character.

If that was the case ...her conscience pricked her further about misleading him as to her feelings for the earl.

“He’s a bit pompous and far too serious, but I suppose that is because he’s been saddled with looking after the rest of us since he was in short coats.

Our father was a charming but rather feckless rogue, a bit like me!

” He grinned. “Mind you, he stopped being a rake once he met Mama. Never strayed after that, but his other ways didn’t mend much.

Still, there’s hope for me yet. If the old man can be reformed by love, maybe I can, too? ”

She smiled up at him. “I’m sure you can.”

“Well, perhaps you have a sister who could take me in hand?”

“I have four sisters.”

“Four? I look forward to meeting them,” he said with a wicked smile.

“The youngest two are but children yet, Hepzibah is twelve, and Mary is sixteen. Ruth is eighteen, and Deborah is twenty. Deb is the beauty of the family.”

“She cannot be more beautiful than you,” he said gallantly, turning them in the dance.

She shook her head. “Deb is very sweet, but she is also very practical. She will give you short shrift, I assure you.”

“Will she? I can’t wait,” he said, grinning broadly. It made his eyes dance which would, she reflected, make him very attractive to a certain type of female. She hoped ardently Deb wasn’t one of them. She might need to warn Deb against Kenrick. He was dangerous by his own admission.

*

Three dances later, Robert claimed Sarah for the waltz.

While he had been busy about his hosting duties, he had been constantly conscious of where she was in the room and itching to get to her side.

He was hopeful that he had clawed his way back to a semblance of equilibrium with her, but he was not sanguine as to its lasting.

He had spent quite some time last night tossing and turning, worrying over her feelings for Lannister. The notion filled him with a mixture of fury and a kind of despair. The idea was painful in the extreme. It made his heart ache whenever he thought of it.

He’d risen in the morning with an even stronger determination to win her heart from that worthless rake. He could not believe that when she knew him better, she could fail to see the difference between them. Surely, she would recognize I am the better man?

Following Ava’s interruption yesterday, he had taken her on a tour of the house and maintained appropriate decorum despite the promptings of his baser instincts.

They parted before dinner on amicable enough terms. He hadn’t spoken to her again on anything more than commonplace topics until they were ready to receive the guests tonight, when he took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly.

He understood it was daunting for her, but she did really well, and he was proud of her and had said so.

Leading her onto the floor now, he said, “Ashford has Ava, thank God. It’s dashed taxing having a sister to keep an eye on, and I’ve got three! Ava is a handful, and I suspect Ingrid will be just as bad. Heather at least should be less of a worry.”

“Tell me about them, Heather and Ingrid,” she prompted.

“Heather is sweet, though I might be biased. We have always had more of an affinity for each other. Not that I don’t love Ava and Ingrid equally as well, but Heather inspires fewer headaches.

Ingrid is a little rebel, and Ava just has too much vivacity for her own good and my peace of mind.

Heather on the other hand is restful and sweet tempered, gentle. ”

“Your womanly ideal?”

“I used to think so, but not since I met you,” he said ruefully.

“Meaning I am not restful, sweet tempered, and gentle?”

“At the risk of saying something intemperate, no.”

“How would you describe me then?”

“You were described to me as a warm, vital, loving creature, with a soft heart and caring nature. Which I have come to think is a fair description.”

Sarah flushed with pleasure and smiled. “Whoever said such a lovely thing of me?”

“That I am not prepared to tell you, but I do agree with it.” He certainly wasn’t going to tell her Lannister had said such a thing.

Her reaction might confirm her partiality for him.

He pulled her a little closer and wished he could whisk her off into an alcove and kiss her.

She looked lovely tonight in a pale-lavender silk gown with lace cap sleeves and a bodice low cut enough to be distracting.

Not that it was extreme—Sarah was by far too modest to adopt the very fashionable bodices that were nearly indecent.

He smiled down into her face and their eyes locked.

For an endless moment, time stood still. Her eyes widened slightly, and he felt a surge of something warm pass between them, something like the communion of souls he had so longed for. His chest filled with that warmth, and he forgot to breathe. It seemed to last forever and be over in a moment.

Her cheeks flushed, and she broke the connection by dropping her gaze, and the wrench of it actually made him stumble. His heart thudded hard and the pain beneath his sternum was sharp enough to make him gasp.

“Sarah?” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear, as he fought to recover the rhythm of the music.

He glanced up, the movement of the dance had brought them close to a curtained-off alcove.

On impulse, he swept her behind the curtain.

It was a small space occupied largely by a damaged alabaster statue that was due for repair, hence the curtain to hide it.

He wrapped his arms around her, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head and press her face into his chest, where his heart thumped and ached. His eyes stung . What the hell is wrong with me? Am I ill? Having some kind of seizure?

She leaned against him in silence, her hands resting against the lapels of his jacket. He kissed her hair gently, careful not to disturb her elaborate coiffure of curls and combs.

“Sarah?” he said again softly.

She raised her head, her eyes glinting in the dimness of the alcove, and irresistibly he bent his and kissed her, a soft touch of his lips, trying to recapture that moment of connection.

When she responded, his heart lifted, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer against him.

Heat surged behind his breeches and his body ignited, hot desire flooding his senses.

If he didn’t end this soon, he wouldn’t be in a fit state to appear in public. But the last thing he wanted to do was end something that felt so good, so right.