Della met Sarah’s gaze in the glass. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I wish I weren’t so nervous.”

Sarah tilted her head, wrinkling her brow. “Do you know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you nervous. I’ve seen you angry, concerned, excited, and worried, but never nervous.”

Della gave a wan smile. “I guess that is because I have never been in love?” she said, feeling the rightness of the words.

“Have you told him about Mr. Baxter?” Sarah asked.

Della opened her mouth to say yes, and then realized she hadn’t. Not truly. Not that there was much to tell. And she knew he wouldn’t judge her for her actions, he’d already made that clear. But she wanted to tell him everything, she wanted to bare her soul to the man she loved.

She wanted to trust him.

“I haven’t. But I will,” she said, hearing the vow in her voice.

“Well,” Sarah said, giving Della one last appraisal. “You are as beautiful as you are going to get. You should head to the ball. Where is it this evening?”

Della shrugged. “I’m not certain. Griff—Lord Stanbury is coming to fetch me in half an hour or so.”

“And you’ll tell him? Tell him everything?”

Della bit her lip. “Yes.”

Sarah enfolded Della in a hug, making Della feel warm and comforted. She wasn’t normally a hugging person, but Sarah and Nora had both made it very clear that that was how they expressed their love, and she was willing to accept it. See? she wanted to say to him. I can be accommodating.

He arrived promptly this evening, not making her wonder if he was going to be off doing some remarkable deed that she would have to thank him for while simultaneously being furious he hadn’t turned up after he had promised.

He looked different this evening. Or perhaps that was because she was feeling differently about him? Now that she was on the cusp of confessing everything?

“You look lovely, my lady,” he said, taking her hand and putting it to his lips. The stubble above his mouth grazed her hand, and she shuddered as she thought about where else it could tickle her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, curtseying. Apparently they were to be excessively formal this evening. Perhaps it was to ensure they actually arrived at the ball and didn’t end up frolicking in the carriage on the way over?

But she couldn’t ask him, since that would give him ideas, and she wouldn’t get the opportunity to tell him anything since she would be just as enthusiastic about the suggestion as he was.

The mental rigmarole one had to endure when one was concerned that one would be able to share thoughts while also wishing one were absolutely not speaking because their mouths were otherwise engaged. Being in love was so complicated.