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When she entered the large entry hall downstairs, her pulse jumped at seeing the bouquets in all different colors on the long hall table.

She stopped at each bouquet, inhaled the aromas, admired the blossoms, and opened the card accompanying each.

The Earl of Quincy had sent beautiful red roses, and Mr. Fitzpatrick had sent yellow ones.

The other bouquets, beautiful roses intermingled with colorful wildflowers, had come from the Marquess of Littleton, Baron Fieldstone, Mr. Percy Thompson, and Mr. George Tyler.

Emmeline had danced with each of them, but her excitement came from the roses’ senders.

She couldn’t help if her heart yearned for Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick.

But which one did she yearn for more? The Earl of Quincy had to be six feet tall, had light brown hair, deep green eyes, and a handsome face with chiseled features.

Mr. Fitzpatrick, also tall but slightly shorter than Quincy, had chestnut brown hair and brown eyes with a hint of amber.

He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Both men were fit with broad shoulders and narrow waists.

Though perhaps she was being silly, attracted so to the first two men she’d met and danced with.

The hours dragged on as Emmeline sat in the family drawing room with her mother embroidering a delicate lace handkerchief for her dear friend Catherine’s birthday. The clock on the wall drew her eyes every few minutes, making the time go by at a snail’s pace.

“Our drawing room will be full to bursting if all the gentlemen who sent flowers call on you today,” Mother said as she worked on a needlepoint pillow cover.

“Will they all come?” Emmeline wasn’t interested in all of them, only two. Would she truly have to entertain them all?

“I do hope so.” Mother tied off her thread and snipped it with her small scissors.

“Your father and I discussed the gentlemen who sent flowers, and we both agreed that the Marquess of Littleton is an excellent prospect. He is older than the others, nearly thirty, so he will be serious about taking a wife. He is rather handsome, wealthy, and comes from a well-respected family. The other potential suitors are younger; two are very young and merely filling their time, I believe. The Earl of Quincy will become a duke one day, but I can’t believe he is serious about taking a wife now.

Goodness, he is only a year older than you.

And the same goes for Mr. Fitzpatrick. They both still attend university. ”

Sadness filled Emmeline’s heart at hearing her mother’s words—true words. Everything she said, Emmeline had thought herself. Perhaps friendship was all Lord Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick sought. Friendship, would that be so bad? It would be if she lost her heart to one of them.

As for the Marquess of Littleton, he was not exactly handsome but not all that unpleasant to look at if you ignored his close-set brown eyes, which made his nose appear more prominent.

He was relatively short but still taller than her.

He seemed affable enough and had good manners.

He said all the proper things. He didn’t leer at her with his eyes as their host did.

The Duke of Westport had said shocking things to her, and she couldn’t get away from him fast enough when the dance they shared ended.

He’d said things she didn’t understand, but she knew they were scandalous.

“Have you taken a liking to any of them?” Hearing her mother’s voice pulled her from her musings.

“Honestly, I mostly enjoyed my time with the Earl of Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick. They are good friends, and when I wasn’t on the dance floor, I spent time with them, Catherine, and their other two friends, Mr. James Caldwell and Mr. Edmund Weston—you remember, Cousin Henry’s heir.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Once she said the words, she wanted to take them back. They were admitting how interested in them she was.

“I understand you like the earl and Mr. Fitzpatrick, as they are closer to your age than the other gentlemen. But I truly believe you will have nothing more than a passing acquaintance with them. Neither is in a position to marry now. Entitled gentlemen like them leave university and spend several years making their mark on Society. They become rakehells, take mistresses, gamble, and fuel the gossip rags. They are most often either forced into marriage because of a scandal, or they take a wife around the age of thirty. Gentlemen do not have strict rules governing them as young ladies do.”

“I know. How unfair.”

“You must go prepare for your callers.”

*

Sitting on a deep burgundy settee with her mother awaiting callers, Emmeline’s hands trembled, and her entire being vibrated from nerves, excitement, or a combination of both. Would the butler ever enter the room and introduce someone... anyone? The suspense was killing her.

When Ward finally appeared, he did so with six gentlemen in tow.

She was so shocked that she truly missed him announcing their names, which was unfortunate.

Last night had been such a whirlwind that she needed a refresher of which name went with which gentleman.

Lord Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick managed to take the two chairs directly opposite the settee, leaving the other four gentlemen to sit farther away.

All held their hats in their hands while the marquess, whom she did remember specifically from last night, also had a fashionable walking stick.

Mother offered tea and biscuits while Emmeline’s eyes fluttered between her two closest visitors. According to her mother, she should give her attention to the marquess since he was actively seeking a bride, but her heart wouldn’t let her.

“Did you enjoy your first ball last evening?” Mr. Fitzpatrick asked. Today, he was dressed in brown and tan riding clothes and brown boots, almost the same shade as his hair. His brown eyes were bright, and his smile caused her heart to flutter.

“I did. I was worried I would be affixed to the wall with all the wallflowers, but to my astonishment, I wasn’t.”

His brows drew together. “I cannot imagine that ever happening.”

Her cheeks warmed. “You are too kind.”

“That is our Fitzpatrick,” Lord Quincy interjected. “Always being kind to the ladies.”

The friends shared a look that rattled her teacup in her hand.

She didn’t know them well, but she recognized the signs of jealousy well enough to know they were each interested in her and warning the other to stay away.

But she refused to come between the two friends.

So, how did she prevent that from happening?

She knew she couldn’t choose which she liked better just yet; she was hardly acquainted with them.

Perhaps she should look to the marquess after all, except that would be futile since he didn’t appeal to her in the least.

After all the callers finally bid farewell, her mother turned to her, looking upset, and said, “I wish you had engaged the marquess in a deeper conversation. I fear he looked bored and disappointed you paid such little attention to him. I’m not worried about the other three who stood off to the side, but you knew how I felt about Littleton. ”

Her mother was right, of course. She had been rather rude to the marquess. If he called upon her again, she would be more attentive. “I’m sorry, Mama. Lord Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick kept my attention and were quite entertaining.”

“Yes. Well, they were. I even found myself hiding laughter a time or two. But will giving all your interest to them get you engaged?”

Engaged. Yes, she wanted to find a husband, but she didn’t want to be betrothed this early in the Season.

She wanted to enjoy the festivities and get to know someone before she became betrothed.

She wanted to flirt with handsome gentlemen like Lord Quincy and Mr. Fitzpatrick.

She wanted to dance until the wee hours of the morning.

She wanted to stroll in a garden on the arm of a suitor.

She wanted to drop her fan purposely and have an admirer to pick it up for her.

She wanted to experience so many things before an engagement and marriage tied her down.

And most importantly, she wanted to marry for love.

Once she became betrothed, the fun would end. The planning of her wedding would take precedence over anything else. The modiste’s fittings for her trousseau would occupy her days, and the evenings would be spent with her betrothed. No more flirting, laughing, and enjoying herself.

No, she refused to listen to her mother. There was no reason Emmeline needed to find a husband this Season. Her entire life she had been preparing for her debut; why should it have to end so quickly?

*

“You do realize,” Andrew said as they mounted their horses and made their way toward Brooks’s on St. James’s Street, “we cannot both pursue Miss Connolly.”

“Why not?” Fitzpatrick said. “If we promise not to let her come between our friendship. She will eventually choose one of us, and the loser will bow out gracefully. That is what friends do for each other.”

Had he lost his bloody mind? If, say, a month went by, and both he and Fitzpatrick fell in love with Emmeline, and she chose the other, how would that not come between them?

Andrew’s head hurt thinking about what might happen.

Perhaps he should bow out now before his heart was invested one hundred percent?

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he could, because what if she chose him?

Of course, all this worrying could be for nothing.

Tomorrow, she could announce she was engaged to the Marquess of Littleton.

Women were fickle creatures that Andrew could never figure out.

*