“I hope that you have saved your first dance for me,” he said.

Billie looked over at his mother for confirmation.

“Yes, you may dance your first with George,” she said with an indulgent smile.

“There are so many rules,” Billie said sheepishly. “I couldn’t remember if for some reason I was meant to save you for later.”

“Have you been here long?” Lady Manston asked.

“An hour or so,” George replied. “My errand took less time than I’d anticipated.”

“It was an errand?” she said. “I thought it was a meeting.”

If George hadn’t been so entranced with Billie, he might have had the wherewithal to muster irritation at this. His mother was clearly fishing for information, or at the very least, attempting to scold him retroactively. But he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Billie was looking up at him with shining eyes.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She smiled awkwardly, and his gaze fell to her hands, which were nervously riffling against the folds of her skirt. “You look very handsome as well.”

Beside them, Lady Manston was beaming.

“Would you care to dance?” he blurted.

“Now?” She smiled adorably. “Is there music?”

There wasn’t. It was some testament to how foolish in love he’d become that he did not even feel embarrassed. “Perhaps a turn about the room,” he suggested. “The musicians will begin again shortly.”

Billie looked to Lady Manston, who gave her approval with a wave. “Go,” she said, “but stay well within sight.”

George was jolted out of his dreamy haze for long enough to shoot his mother an icy look. “I would not dream of doing anything to compromise her reputation.”

“Of course not,” she said airily. “I want to make sure she’s seen. There are many eligible gentlemen here tonight. More than I expected.”

George grabbed Billie’s arm.

“I saw the Billington heir,” Lady Manston continued, “and you know, I don’t think he’s too young.”

George gave her a look of mild disdain. “I don’t think she wants to be Billie Billington, Mother.”

Billie choked down a laugh. “Oh, my, I hadn’t even thought.”

“Good.”

“She’s Sybilla now, anyway,” his mother said, demonstrating her talent for hearing only what she wished to. “And Sybilla Billington has rather a nice ring to it.”

George looked at Billie and said, “It doesn’t.”

She pressed her lips together, looking highly amused.

“His surname is Wycombe,” Lady Manston said. “Just so you know.”

George rolled his eyes. His mother was a menace. He held out his arm. “Shall we, Billie?”

Billie nodded and turned so they were facing in the same direction.

“If you see Ashbourne’s son . . .”

But George had already led Billie away.

“I don’t know what Ashbourne’s son looks like,” Billie said. “Do you?”

“Bit of a paunch,” George lied.

“Oh.” Billie frowned. “I can’t imagine why she’d think of him for me, then. She knows I’m very active.”

George made a murmuring noise that was meant to convey his agreement and continued his slow promenade along the perimeter of the ballroom, enjoying the proprietary sensation of her hand on his arm.