“She was with the duke for a good part of the night. Two dances and supper,” Lily said.

“No! So it was the duke.” Rose turned to her, her eyes wide. “The duke kissed you?”

“No, of course he didn’t. I dislike him intensely. Why would I let him kiss me?”

But Rose took no notice. “The duke, how strange. Throughout our short courtship he only ever kissed me once, and it was as chaste as chaste can be. Nothing to turn legs wobbly.”

“He must have kissed her verrrry thoroughly if her knees went away,” Lily said, grinning.

“Stop it,” George said, flustered. “Nobody kissed me. It was just—I heard someone saying their knees buckled, as if they’d turned to jelly, and it seemed so unlikely, that’s all.”

Rose laughed. “George Rutherford, if nobody kissed you last night, explain to us now why your cheeks are on fire.”

George pressed her hands to her cheeks. They felt very hot. “All right, somebody did—but I’m not saying who, but—”

“It was the duke,” Lily said. “I’m sure of it.”

“It wasn’t the duke, it was just . . . some . . . man.”

“What man? Who?”

“I didn’t catch his name.”

“A man with no name? Intriguing—if unbelievable.”

“But he did have a mouth.” Lily giggled. “And possibly a tongue.”

“Definitely a tongue if he turned her knees to jelly.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re both being ridiculous. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It had been a foolish idea to ask them about it. Both Lily and Rose were madly, giddily in love with their husbands, and of course they wanted her to be in love as well—which was never going to happen. She’d never get a sensible word out of them.

Besides, her cheeks were about to burst into flames. George turned her back on them and made a dignified exit. Or it would have been if their giggles hadn’t followed her all the way down the stairs.

In any case their knowledge was of no use to her, she decided. Both Lily and Rose were in love. To them kissing was all about love and the effects were an expression of that love.

George didn’t love the duke; truth to tell, she disliked him intensely. It was just that his kisses disturbed her.

*   *   *

In the days following the night of the ball—George couldn’t help but think of it as the night of the kiss, even though several momentous things had taken place that evening—she was braced to run into the duke at other society events. She had mentally prepared for it. Had armed herself for it. Was ready and waiting.