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The dance began and the first couple proceeded to exhibit their skill. Captain Larson watched them as if they were soldiers completing a drill, focused on their precision, nodding his approval almost imperceptibly.

Charlotte chatted merrily to both James and Miss Lockhart. She called across to Captain Larson, breaking his attention that had been locked on to Macrae and his lead partner. The captain answered, the slightest bit of color creeping into his cheeks. His gaze shifted to Miss Lockhart.

There it was. William had been waiting for it. The admiration. The awe. Larson was now as focused on Miss Lockhart as he had been on Macrae. Idle conversation would not be easy for him, but, by gum, he would try!

William sighed. The rest of the night would be filled with more of this.

Every gentleman who danced with her would have the same reaction.

They would marvel at the starlight in her white-blonde tresses, the gem-like quality of her ice-blue eyes.

One by one, they would note the way she minimized her own qualities, wrongly assuming she was docile and willing to submit her own worth at their feet.

She deserved better. William wished it for her. But was he the man to offer it?

Not yet. He must be sure he had left his old self behind. He needed more time with Miss Lockhart to make certain he understood her needs and that he could meet them.

But he wouldn’t have the time. Tonight, the gentlemen of Munro would be planning their courtships of her. And William? Well, he would soon be off to war.

Perhaps, then, friendship was all they could have. If only th—

“Found you at last!”

Lawrence clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. Our father had me attend a meeting on his behalf. It was an interminable to-and-fro, but I believe our interests have been upheld. Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair.”

Before the couple could respond beyond mere civilities, Lawrence gestured to William. “Walk with me, Little Brother.”

William hated when Lawrence called him that.

Yes, William was younger by several years, but he was a full grown man now, and of age.

Being called “little” only reminded William that he was inferior to Lawrence in many ways.

No wife. No children. No true income. And, most importantly, no reputation for being “a good sort.” While William had flirted and caroused, Lawrence had worked at the bank with their father, emulating Marcus Cole in his role as provider and all round decent fellow.

And, like their father, Lawrence enjoyed giving a well-intentioned scolding.

“Why are you not dancing?” Lawrence began.

This was not a typical starting point, and William was, for the moment, caught off guard. “You think I should be dancing? Is it not more your usual fare to chastise me for having too much fun?”

“Come now, William, we both know enjoyment is not the real purpose of a dance.”

“It isn’t?”

“Do you think these ladies’ families spend their money on dresses and shoes simply for their daughters to amuse themselves of an evening?”

“Oh.” William’s voice flattened. “That.”

“Yes, that , William. Why are you here if not to further your prospects through marriage?”

William bit his tongue. He had any number of honest answers.

He had come to see Miss Lockhart and make amends.

He was enjoying the company of others, without being expected to play the role of a charming rogue.

He wanted to dance and laugh before he was shot apart by cannon fire.

Which one would his brother like to hear?

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said instead.

“No,” said Lawrence with a slow, longsuffering sigh, “I probably wouldn’t.”

“But you can tell Father you did your best.”

“Hmph. I would rather tell him you are doing yours.”

“Tell him what you like.”

Lawrence grew quiet. Then, as if he had made up his mind about something, he took his brother by the elbow and steered him through a nearby doorway leading, as it happened, to the card room.

A few heads looked up, but the two gentlemen were soon forgotten.

No doubt the card players had high stakes at play.

“I thought you were done with Miss Lockhart,” Lawrence said in a low voice.

“I am. I was. I…”

“Well, from where I stood earlier, you could not take your eyes from her.”

William felt his neck grow hot. “Were you spying on me?”

“No, I was looking for you. And when I saw you, I also noticed you barely moved, considering the way your gaze was riveted. Not to mention the range of emotions that flitted across your face.”

“I was making sure she was all right.”

“And why should she not have been?”

“She had an encounter with Lieutenant Foyle.”

“That blackguard!” Lawrence ran his fingers through his sandy-blond hair. “What bad luck.”

“Precisely,” agreed William. “He had since let her be, supposedly off to play cards. I see he is over there.” William gestured with his chin. “He is so thoroughly foxed, he can barely keep his head up.”

“At least Miss Lockhart is well away from him.”

“Yes.”

Lawrence cocked an eye at his brother. “You care a great deal what becomes of her.”

William shrugged. “No woman deserves to be singled out by that reprobate. Least of all a lady of our acquaintance.”

The eye of suspicion remained. “Granted, but why is it you remain vigilant when the danger has passed?”

William squirmed a little. He did not like his brother circling the truth so closely, especially since William himself was uncertain what to make of his own feelings. “Well, she is… That is to say… There is no reason why… Oh, shut up, Lawrence!”

Lawrence lifted an eyebrow. Then a smile spread slowly and annoyingly across his face, the wrinkles around his eyes radiating out toward his side-whiskers. “Your secret is safe with me, Little Brother.”

He reached out his hand.

William ducked his head. “If you are going to ruffle my hair as if I were five years old, I shall knock you on your back, Lawrence!”

His brother laughed heartily. He had a beautiful, broad mouth designed for just such moments. It was one of the few things he and William had in common. “I was merely going to shake your hand to seal the deal, so to speak. My, but you are touchy, Little Brother.”

“And stop calling me that,” William grumbled. “I am as grown as you are.”

Lawrence regarded his brother a moment. “Indeed, it seems you are, or at least well on your way to it. Won’t our parents be pleased!” He tapped a finger to the side of his nose and winked. “Not that they will hear it from my lips.”

“Well,” said William, straightening his jacket, “I thank you for that.”

“I take it you will dance with Miss Lockhart tonight?”

“I already have.”

“Perhaps you should again.”

“That would imply a relationship we do not have.”

Lawrence cocked his head jauntily. “Perhaps that is what she wants. If she does not, she may simply refuse.”

“If she does not seek my attention, she will consider my request very forward. I have only just persuaded her I am made of better stuff than that.”

“Ah,” replied Lawrence, “perhaps I should dance with Miss Lockhart and sweeten your case before her.”

William stared at his brother. “You would do that?”

“Yes, of course, Littl… William. But with so many unmarried gentlemen here tonight, it would be improper for me to dance with an eligible lady in their stead.”

William considered his brother with new affection. “I am not used to your support. It is a pleasant change, to say the least.”

“Ah,” said Lawrence, “but you have never delivered up a cause worthy of supporting before. It, too, is a pleasant change.”

The shift in their relationship was oddly comforting to William.

For the longest time, he had felt alone.

Oh, his family loved him. Of that, there was no doubt.

But they were each busy with satisfying lives.

And he had always lived along the periphery of their world.

His relationship with them had, to his mind, been bound by their expectations, something in which he was sure to be a disappointment.

He had followed his own heart from the start.

It had felt like rebellion. And so a rebel he must be.

Only, where had that gotten him? A strained bond with his father.

A reputation for tomfoolery. He was a man who could not be taken seriously.

Was that not how Charlotte often introduced him?

“Don’t mind my brother. He is harmless in his flirtation.

” Perhaps she was embarrassed by him. He had never considered how his choices affected others, except where it had pleased him.

But, all of them, to the last, liked Miss Lockhart.

They believed she would be good for him.

They supported his interest in her wholeheartedly—even if his sister had unintentionally helped the competition.

And, suddenly, William felt part of a greater good, a collective united in purpose and dignity.

He was not ready to give Miss Lockhart up to another.

With his siblings’ encouragement, he would fight a fair fight for her hand.

Not a selfish theatrical as he had with Lady Howell, one that might ruin her reputation.

No, a suit that did justice to the character of his beloved, for she deserved nothing less.

The war was forgotten. The rogue, Richard Foyle, was forgotten. Larson and Westbridge and whosoever else danced with Miss Lockhart this night were forgotten. William would focus on her, and her alone. What she wanted. What she needed. What he had to give.

But where to start?

A single thought rammed into the forefront of his mind. It jolted his thoughts into focus and spread a delicious glow of resolve throughout his body.

“Lawrence,” he said. “Will you still be in Munro this week?”

“I will. Charlotte asked that I not rush home too soon. She is such a welcoming hostess, one cannot say no , even if it does mean enduring James’s frequent surliness. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to attend a lecture on Egyptian beetles with me…”