After dinner Alex excused himself and ran upstairs to get changed. But first he walked softly into the chamber adjoining his and tiptoed over to the crib. Nestled into the sheets, his daughter was curled on her side, her face resting on one hand, the other flung above her head. She looked so angelic asleep, not at all like the demon who had turned his life upside down in the last month.

He reached out and traced the shape of her arching eyebrows: his eyebrows. His heart thumped again with rage. How could Maria have kept her from him? He’d lost a whole year of Pippa’s life. Alex took a deep breath and pulled the sheets snugly up around her small round body.

In her sleep, Pippa didn’t look sad; she was smiling faintly. She never had the nightmares the doctor forecast. It was only when she was awake that the loss of her mother showed. Damn you, Maria, Alex thought fiercely. If he’d known … well, Maria would still have died, wouldn’t she? Someday Pippa would stop missing her mother. At least Maria had summoned him when she knew she wouldn’t live. And now Pippa was here, and safe. He bent down and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin,” he said softly. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”

They arrived at Prestlefield House just a little after eleven o’clock, when the ball was in full swing. Braddon’s fears regarding Alex’s reception were for naught because Lady Prestlefield had just closed the receiving line when they entered the house and by the time they reached the ballroom she was energetically swinging through a country dance.

The Prestlefield butler’s chest swelled out a bit with pride as he ushered in not one, but two earls. His voice boomed over the crowded ballroom: “The Earl of Sheffield and Downes, and the Earl of Slaslow.”

There was no pause in the chattering noise that filled the room like an aviary. But everyone’s eyes darted up the steps and saw the two young men descending into the room; and everyone’s thoughts flew to tales they’d heard from Italy; and they all bent their heads a little closer to their partners, or longed agonizingly for the end of the dance so they could seek out better, more informed companions.

Charlotte didn’t even hear the announcement, because she was busy being gloriously indiscreet on the balcony. In the month or so since she had unveiled her new wardrobe, she’d found that looking gorgeous made her feel gorgeous, and feeling gorgeous translated into feeling daring. In fact, she’d rather given up the idea of finding a husband. She was having too much fun just flirting.