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E leanor barely felt her feet touch the ground as she ascended the grand staircase, the sounds of the ball fading behind her, distant and unimportant.

Her chest was tight, her pulse unsteady.

She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, the ghost of his breath against her skin.

She could still see him—Graham, standing there beneath the moonlight, waiting, wanting.

And she had left him.

The moment she reached her chambers, she shut the door behind her and pressed her back against it, exhaling sharply as if she had run a great distance. She couldn’t believe that she had nearly kissed him.

He had wanted it, too. She had felt the pull of it so fiercely that it had taken every ounce of willpower to step away. But she couldn’t go through with it. Not when she carried a secret of her own—a secret that could ruin everything.

The room was dark, save for the glow of the low fire crackling in the hearth. The familiar space should have comforted her, but instead, it felt smaller, suffocating, as if the walls were closing in around her.

With unsteady hands, she removed her mask, then the sapphire comb that held her dark curls in place. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiled inside her.

She walked to the vanity, her reflection barely visible in the dim light. She looked different. Not because of the mask, or the gown, or the moonlight that had made everything feel like a dream. She looked different because, for the first time in years, she felt something dangerous.

Hope.

She had spent years convincing herself that Graham Sinclair was a memory, a mistake, a part of her life that had been stolen away the night he left without a word.

She had let herself believe he had moved on, that the Graham she once loved had been nothing more than a foolish girl’s fascination.

A dream that would never become a reality.

But tonight…

Tonight, she had seen the truth in his eyes. He had never stopped wanting her. And worse—she had never stopped wanting him.

She pressed her fingers against her lips, as if she could still feel the moment when they had almost—almost—

She shut her eyes. It could never happen now. Not when she had her own sins to bear. Not when her secret could destroy him.

A sharp knock at the door made her jump.

She turned quickly, heart hammering, as a voice drifted through the thick oak.

“Eleanor?”

Her stomach clenched. It wasn’t Graham. It was her brother. And he could never know what had just happened by the lake.

She smoothed a hand over her gown, willing herself to look composed. To play the part of the Eleanor she had spent years crafting—the one who did not love recklessly, who did not let herself hope.

“Come in,” she called, schooling her voice into practiced indifference.

Eleanor was sure her brother had come to check on her since she had left the ball early. She would tell him she had a headache and needed to rest. That seemed to get rid of him quickly before.

As the door creaked open, she knew one thing for certain… Her life would be miserable now, since she could never marry a man she truly loved.