“How pretty you look, Miss Fanshawe!” Lady Ellen burbled. “Do you know, four gentlemen called today, begging to reserve the first dance with me? But I have promised it to Mr. Runyon, for he wrote me the loveliest poem!”

Her sapphire eyes bright, she appeared about to confide more, but Lady Godwin drew her away with a sharp word. Nevertheless, Natalie found it a pleasure to see the girl enjoying her first season and suffering no belated regrets over losing the duke as a suitor.

Bringing up the rear, Wymark bowed over Natalie’s hand. He looked the quintessential English gentleman with his wheat-gold hair and finely tailored garb. “I see you’ve escaped the schoolroom again, Miss Fanshawe. I hope you haven’t left my little orphaned nephew all alone.”

“Leo has a nursemaid to watch over him, of course.”

“Ah, I see.”

As he gave her another veiled stare and then strolled off, Natalie felt her skin prickle. Wymark seemed to exude an edgy tension tonight that left her with a vague uneasiness. She shook off the sensation. Perhaps as a gambler, he was merely eager to join the card players in the drawing room.

After a few more stragglers were admitted, the duke offered one arm to his mother and the other to Natalie. “Thank God that ordeal is over at last,” he said, chuckling. “Shall we go and join the festivities?”

With her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow and the lilt of music in the air, Natalie felt giddy with happiness. Once upstairs, they strolled along a wide corridor and through an arched doorway. The majordomo announced their entry, but she scarcely noticed the eyes that turned her way. She was too busy admiring the fairy-tale décor of the ballroom.

Although she’d peeked in earlier while the workers were setting up, the finished scene stole her breath away. Three immense chandeliers blazed with beeswax candles, casting golden light upon the shifting sea of elegant guests. Along the walls, swags of white silk provided a backdrop for masses of daffodils and irises and pink roses, creating the illusion of a spring garden. At one end, an elevated gallery held the string quartet of musicians, while at the other, a wall of glass doors opened onto a spacious balcony.

Hadrian snagged three flutes from one of the footmen circulating with silver trays, handing one to his mother and one to Natalie. “Champagne, ladies. If you’ll excuse me now, there are some people I must see, but I’ll return to claim you for the first dance, Natalie.”

His eyes caressed her before he disappeared into the crowd, and the duchess patted her hand. “The first dance? That’s a high honor, my dear. Tonight will establish you quite firmly in society.”

Natalie smiled, though pleasure warred with caution. Did she want to be a part of this glittering life forever? There was no time to ponder as a stately couple approached the duchess. Natalie soon found herself surrounded by gentlemen and ladies who were curious about life in America, in particular, the frontier. Determining their interest was genuine, she related amusing stories of her encounters with beavers and porcupines, leaving out the massacre that had necessitated her journey to England with Leo.