He smiled again, this time tightly. “Well, then I shall have to get to know her better. Once you and I are wed.”

“Yes.” Thomasina blinked. Was that right? “Er, no. I mean, yes.”

He ignored her stammering as the orchestra began a waltz. “Shall we dance?”

She stared at the dancefloor where the couples were gathering and swirling off into each other’s arms. She had only ever danced country jigs and the like with Harcourt. A waltz would require being tucked into his arms.

And yet there was no way to refuse him under her current deception.

“Certainly,” she murmured, and took the elbow he offered. Touching him immediately made her very aware of herself, her body and her wayward thoughts. Made her very aware that she wasn’t Anne, even if she pretended. Anne was always confident. Thomasina felt anything but.

And yet, as he turned her onto the dancefloor and they began to spin together in time to the music, she felt herself find some of the calm she had been seeking since she entered the room. His fingers on her hip were comforting, his grip on her hand firm but gentle. He was certain in his movements and truly guided her, leading her so that she couldn’t falter or fall.

For a moment, she forgot everything but him as she stared up into his face, memorizing the lines of it, the curves of his lips, the angle of his jaw. She searched the darkness of his eyes and wondered what he was thinking, for his stern expression gave no indication of whatever was in his mind.

“You really are lovely,” he murmured, and then his eyes widened as if he had not meant to say those words out loud.

Thomasina stumbled, but he kept her upright as they continued to turn to the music. He wasn’t saying those things to her. Not really. He meant to say them to Anne. If there was warmth in his expression or if he was drawn to someone, it was to Anne. Which was the way it was supposed to be. It would be better for them both if they found a way to care for each other.

And yet as Thomasina stared up at him, she couldn’t help but drink in his compliment and his regard and his warmth. She couldn’t help but pretend that it was her he wanted. And that she could want him in return without it being a harsh betrayal of a most beloved sister.

She took that moment and allowed it, knowing there would never be another.

The music slowed and he released her so that he could bow and she curtsey in return. As he placed her hand back into the crook of his elbow, he said, “You look warm.”

“I am. The crowd, you know.”

“Well, then let me escort you to the terrace for some air,” he said, and smoothly drew her through the crowd to the exit onto the veranda outside the massive room.