“Why did you never send word?” His big blue eyes were so sincere. “I was desperate for your return. For years, I went looking for you.”

She blinked at him, waiting for the subterfuge. She’d known March like no other person, but it had been so long ago. Twelve years was a long time, and she’d been a child. “I thought that this was what was meant for me.”

He grinned brightly. “You were meant for the world.”

Kerrigan had nothing to say to that. As far as she was concerned, she had the world now.

“This was meant to be our Season,” he said calmly, gesturing to the court behind them.

Everyone was watching and waiting to see what would happen. If Kerrigan would so easily snag the most eligible bachelor on her first night here. If things would return to how they had once been.

“Yes,” Kerrigan said lightly. “But I don’t get a Season. I’m here as a representative of the Society. I train for the rest of the year.”

“That’s deeply unfortunate. Surely, they can let you all off the hook for a few parties.”

Kerrigan shrugged. “This one was in Kinkadia and on the weekend we finished our first month of training. I don’t know what things will look like after this.”

She waited for his easily kindled anger to rise up at her words. For him to find that soft spot on her elbow that would tinge blue. But he smiled so serenely that she wondered if she knew him at all anymore. Perhaps twelve years was too long to assume to still know a person. Perhaps the behavior from his youth was past him. She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she said, trying for regret. “But I …”

“It has been, hasn’t it? If I remember correctly, you adore dancing. It would be my pleasure.” He held his hand out. “Shall we?”

Kerrigan stumbled on her words. Everyone was watching, waiting, wondering. She hated this part of this world. Before she could even form a word to refuse, March took her hand and tugged her toward the dance floor. The song had just ended, and another one began. It was a quick jaunt that her feet remembered before her mind even caught up. Then, she was in March’s arms, being whisked across the dance floor to a perfect tempo.

She had to give March credit. Whatever he’d been when they were children, he had shaped up to be a perfectly respectable gentleman. He’d detested dancing and all courtly things as a child. Now, he moved with a grace that could only be gained from endless hours of practice and a confidence born from birth.