At the time their guests were due to arrive, Amala was sitting in Kat’s room, waiting for her sister to make certain her appearance was perfect. Kat speculated over what these two gentlemen callers might be like, as if every gentleman who entered their social circle might be considered a potential husband. Amala mostly listened, only commenting enough to be polite and let Kat know that she was paying attention. For a long moment Amala watched her sister primping and envied her fair skin and golden hair, only because they allowed her to hope for a normal life here in a country where Kat’s appearance alone made it evident she belonged. At the moment, while Kat had good reason to anticipate any opportunity to get to know available English gentlemen, for Amala it was only a temporary distraction, and she knew it could never be anything more. She felt some anticipation in knowing that Henry would be here, but as much as she craved his company and conversation, her attraction to him caused far more unrest and confusion than any of the pleasant delight Kat was going on about.

Amala hurried Kat along, if only so she could stop dreading the official introduction to these gentlemen—which would inevitably bring up the fact that she’d become acquainted with Henry the previous evening. Amala followed Kat through the doorway of the drawing room and caught a glimpse of her parents visiting with their guests. It only took a second to see that Howard Roderick was not nearly as conventionally handsome as Henry, although Amala firmly held to what her parents had taught her—not to judge others by their appearance. She only wished that others might offer her the same courtesy.

At that very moment, Mr. Roderick was telling her parents something that was making them laugh a great deal, but Amala’s focus was on Henry Beckenridge. She wished he wasn’t so handsome, that the waves of his blond hair didn’t seem to fall perfectly into place, that his features weren’t so perfectly proportioned. But just seeing him brought back every feeling she’d been battling and more, rushing over her with such force that she almost felt a little unsteady on her feet for a moment.

“Oh, there they are!” her father said, noticing the girls near the door. He stood, which prompted the other two men to do the same. Oliver motioned the girls closer while he said, “Here are my lovely daughters. I told you, Howard, about my daughters.”

“Indeed, you did,” Howard said and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “This must be Katarina,” he added, and Kat slipped her hand into his. He kissed it quickly and let go, smiling at her as he said, “You’re every bit as lovely as your father described. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you,” Kat said graciously.