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“ G ood grief, I missed one ball, and yet there’s a novel’s worth of events to sort out.” Ivy had listened with rapt attention as Daphne recounted all that happened at the Bancroft ball and then at Kew Gardens.

“Not quite a whole novel’s worth.” Daphne had told her sister almost everything. She’d left out the fact that she’d touched Windham—that they’d held onto each other—and that he’d lent her his tailcoat.

They seemed too intimate, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about those moments. His coat had smelled of his scent, nothing perfumed, just the clean hints of citrus and clove shaving soap. After she’d returned the garment to him, his scent had lingered on her skin.

“What novel are we discussing?” Lily, their eldest sister and Duchess of Edgerton, asked as she joined them in the drawing room.

She wore a Worth gown of cobalt blue that none of them could have dreamed of affording a year ago, when they’d lost their home in Derbyshire. Now, Lily had fully embraced her role as duchess and had become one of the most popular hostesses in London.

“Not a novel. Events related to Lord Windham,” Ivy told her before Daphne could stop her.

“Ah,” Lily said with the flash of a smile. “The earl we’ve added to tonight’s guest list.” She took a spot on the settee next to Daphne and cast her a quizzical look. “He’s a friend of yours?”

Daphne swallowed and flicked her gaze from one sister to the other, both of whom watched her expectantly.

“Yes,” she said, “he’s a friend.” Her cheeks warmed to betray her, of course. She was dreadful at fibbing. As dreadful as she was at knowing which gentlemen to trust.

“He was a suitor of Lady Selina Lytton’s,” Ivy added. “But no longer, since she’s caught herself a marquess.”

Daphne would have glared at Ivy if she thought it would do any good. But it wouldn’t, so she sighed with resignation instead.

Lily arched both brows. “Oh, yes, I did hear about the Lytton-Strathmere engagement. The marquess’s mother attended my tea yesterday. I take it both families are quite pleased with the match.”

“Selina seems happy too,” Daphne added, recalling her friend’s enthusiasm when discussing Strathmere.

“And now Lord Windham is coming to dinner,” Ivy put in, her tone arch and pointed. “Perhaps his interest has turned elsewhere.”

“Would that be welcome?” Lily asked softly.

“No,” Daphne responded with forced coolness. “He did me a kindness, so I invited him to dinner. And he likes gardening and camellias.”

Lily’s face softened with a slow smile, while Ivy wore her signature knowing smirk.

“You’re both going to be disappointed,” Daphne insisted. “We share an interest and have spoken a few times. Nothing more.”

But it was more. From the moment they’d collided at the Ellburtons’ ball, something had shifted. He’d been different, and her reaction to him had been…what it had never been before.

Every encounter with him caused her guard to slip a bit more.

She couldn’t deny the way his gaze always seemed to find her, nor how it stirred a hope she told herself she could no longer trust where handsome men were concerned.

The incident with Moreland had smothered it for a while, but now some fragile flicker seemed to ignite every time she looked Lord Windham’s way.

Opening her heart to another man felt unthinkable, and yet all she could think about was Lord Windham—the moment he’d burst into the library, the fact that he’d come and sought her out at all.

Did he feel something for her? And, more importantly, did she wish him to?

It would mean trusting again, opening herself up to being hurt again.

A knock sounded at Edgerton Houses’s front door. Daphne shot up from the settee, her nerves jangling.

Lily rose more gracefully. “It seems the guests have begun arriving. If it’s Lord Windham, do show him the garden,” she said to Daphne. “We’ve had lanterns lit, and you can point out the new additions to our tea rose collection that you selected.”

Rose breeding was one of Daphne’s pet interests, and Lily and her brother-in-law, Griffin, had encouraged her to make suggestions about improving Edgerton House’s garden.

“I might do that,” Daphne agreed, if only to stop Lily from looking at her with such a mischievous glint in her eye.

Luckily, the arriving guests soon claimed all of her sister’s attention.

Simons, the Edgerton’s London butler, announced Lady and Lord Cranmore, who Daphne and Ivy had met at previous dinner parties. The viscount and his wife fell into conversation with Lily, and soon Griffin entered the drawing room to help welcome guests.

Ivy approached to stand next to Daphne, just as they’d gotten used to doing at the edges of London ballrooms.

“Not all men are like Moreland,” Ivy said quietly, keeping her gaze fixed on the drawing room threshold.

Daphne side-eyed her sister. “This from the lady who thinks every man should be investigated thoroughly.”

Ivy shrugged. “Seeking knowledge is never a mistake. And it’s better to be forewarned.”

“And have you learned anything about Lord Windham?”

Ivy flashed a smile. “I’m pleased to say I can uncover no devilry where the Earl of Windham is concerned. He seems amiable and well-liked. The family is without scandal too, as far as I’ve been able to determine. One brother was in naval service. No sisters.”

“You’ve been busy.”

Ivy finally turned to look at Daphne. “I had a feeling it might become relevant.”

Daphne couldn’t help smiling.

“The Earl of Windham,” Simons intoned a moment later.

A shiver of anticipation chased down Daphne’s back as she watched the drawing room doorway, and as soon as he stepped into the room, his dark green gaze fixed on her.

She strode forward to greet him, fully aware that Lily and Ivy would watch the whole exchange.

“You came.” Daphne didn’t quite know what to do with her hands or her thoughts, and it seemed she didn’t even recall how to make polite conversation with a gentleman anymore.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?” he asked teasingly.

“Of course not.” Daphne closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop beating so fiercely. “Have you met my brother-in-law?”

“I haven’t.” He looked suddenly ill at ease and lifted his gaze to take in the dinner guests gathered in the drawing room.

Daphne turned to seek out Griffin, but he and Lily were already approaching.

“Windham, good of you to come.” Griffin reached out a hand as if he knew the earl well, despite what Windham had just told her. “Your support on the railway bill was much appreciated.”

“Of course,” Windham said a bit woodenly.

It struck Daphne as peculiar—Windham claiming unfamiliarity with Griffin, when it seemed they’d interacted in the House of Lords. The inconsistency pricked at her, quiet but insistent. Had he forgotten?

“Daphne tells me you’re as fond of gardens as she is,” Lily said with a bright smile. “You must see the roses she discovered for the townhouse’s garden.”

“I didn’t discover them,” Daphne felt compelled to add. “French rose breeders are coming up with some exciting new varieties.”

Windham turned a smile Daphne’s way. “I’d love to see them.”

“We’re still awaiting a few guests,” Lily said, “so there’s time now.” She cast a look at Ivy, who immediately stepped forward.

“May I join you too?” Ivy asked.

Windham inclined his head. “Of course.”

Daphne knew Ivy was a terribly lackadaisical chaperone, but if it made Lily feel better to have her accompanied, so be it.

They headed out onto the back garden’s paving stones and paused. Daphne pointed to the line of roses. “We could start there.”

“Lead the way,” he said in a low voice that put an odd lump in her throat.

Ivy headed off to one of the cast-iron benches in the center of the garden, settled near a lantern on a post, and pulled a slim book from her skirt pocket. Ivy always kept reading material at hand.

“This one is called Madame Caroline Testout,” Daphne said, pointing to the first rose along the garden’s border.

“A striking color,” he said.

“It is very pretty, isn’t it?” Daphne felt his gaze on her, not on the perfect pink rose specimen.

“Very,” he agreed. “The same shade as your blushes.”

“Is it?” Daphne chuckled and then realized, with a bit of mortification, that she was, in fact, blushing. Of late, it seemed to happen whenever she was alone with Lord Windham.

He didn’t chuckle in response. Indeed, there was a quiet intensity to him tonight.

“There’s something I must confess to you,” he said as they approached the next rose variety.

“Yes, you said as much at Kew. I’m listening.”

He glanced over to where Ivy sat.

“You want more privacy,” she concluded.

Though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached for his hand and led him farther into the garden, toward some hedges, where they could be hidden from view.

Once they stood in the shadows, she considered releasing his hand but didn’t.

“Daphne,” he breathed, his voice so low it made her shiver. “I’m leaving London tomorrow, but before I go?—”

Daphne tugged her hand from his. “You’re leaving.” The two words made her throat burn. Tears welled, and she was furious at herself for being such a fool. Again. “Selina is spoken for, and so now you have no reason to stay. Is that it?”

“No. Selina isn’t my concern.” He lifted his hand as if he might touch her face, and heaven help her, she wanted him to. “I wish I could stay. I wish I could—” He dipped his head and bent closer. “I wish I could offer you all that you deserve.”

Daphne rested a hand against his chest to brace herself because she was suddenly unsteady and touching him felt essential.

“Then stay,” she whispered.

She felt an urgency well up inside her, as if the moment was consequential but might slip through her fingers.

When he dipped his head, a curl fell across his forehead, and she reached up impulsively to stroke it back. The gesture seemed to embolden him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.