“Nothing really.” Petra glanced over her shoulder to where Clothilde still sat, and her gaze sharpened. Guy was striding across the dance floor toward the vicomtesse and his expression was far from pleasant. Clothilde, languidly fanning herself, smiled at him, a seductive smile that made the watching Petra’s stomach lurch. She couldn’t hear what was said, but stared at the couple with naked fascination.

Clothilde plied her fan in a way that left only her eyes visible as she gazed at Guy, who stood over her as he spoke. His back was to the ballroom but there was something almost menacing about the way he held himself, nothing about his stance could be interpreted as casual and friendly. After a few minutes, he turned and walked off, making his way straight to where Petra still stood with Charlie.

“Come,” he said, holding out his hand to Petra. “Let’s dance.”

She put her hand in his, his expression was still grim and closed, and she decided to keep quiet until he spoke first. As they moved among the dancers, he asked, “What did Lady Delmont say to you?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Petra responded casually. “I don’t really remember.”

“Don’t lie to me, Petra.” His voice was clipped.

She looked up at him indignantly. “I’m not lying. I just don’t think anything she said was worth repeating. And just because you’re annoyed about something, there’s no reason to take it out on me.”

He said nothing for a moment, then a reluctant smile touched his lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I do want to know if she said anything to upset you.”

“I’m not in the least upset,” she averred, then couldn’t help herself, “Why did you invite her?”

“For the same reason we’re having this very public engagement celebration.”

“Oh.” Petra absorbed the implication, then said, “So you wanted to neutralize her, is that what you mean?”

“Exactly. I don’t intend that my somewhat checkered past should cause you any hurt.”

“Were you in love with the vicomtesse?”

“No. I’ve only ever loved one woman and I’m dancing with her right now.” He drew her closer, turning them in the dance.

Petra rested her head for a second against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath the white waistcoat. “Good,” she said. She raised her head and looked around. There was no sign of Clothilde Delmont or her escort. “Do you think she’s left?”

“I neither know nor care,” Guy responded. “Put her out of your mind, sweetheart. She’s nothing to you.”