Her laugh was as wispy as the tendrils of fog that were beginning to gather. “I’d known of him, of course. But only by name and reputation—the black sheep of Sheffield Hall, the family estate. When I was seventeen, I was presented to the Queen so I might have my first Season.”

“That seems rather young.”

“With your refined speech and well-tailored clothing, it’s easy to forget that you don’t come from my world and might be unfamiliar with the details of it. There isn’t a specific age requirement for being presented to the Queen. A girl need be merely viewed as mature and having reached a level of sophistication deemed sufficient by her parents. I have a friend who was presented at fourteen.” She hesitated before continuing. “In my case, my father was most anxious to see me married because his financial situation was dire. He was struggling to maintain the estate and feared if I didn’t marry soon, he’d have to sell the small property he’d set aside as my dowry. He made it quite clear that I needed to set my sights on someone who had the means to be generous. My cause was aided by the fact that the gossip rags referred to me as the most beautiful debutante of the Season.”

Her focus on the grave, all he could see were the shadows of her profile. “That’s the reason you weren’t happy when I complimented your beauty.”

Slowly she turned her head and her gaze came to rest on him. “I am more than my features, but when I was seventeen, they were all that mattered. As fate would have it, Arthur Sheffield’s father had died two years before, and now he was well ensconced as the Duke of Lushing and had decided that it was long past the time that he took a wife. At twenty-nine, handsome and wealthy, he was declared the catch of the Season. Within minutes of arriving at my first ball, the hostess, the Duchess of Ainsley, brought him over for an introduction. He claimed my first waltz. Halfway through he confessed that he’d done it as a lark because he found it humorous that we were considered catches and thought our dancing together would cause tongues to wag. He also confessed to liking me very much and being surprised by it. He didn’t take anyone else out on the floor that night. So, naturally tongues did wag.”

He didn’t want to consider that once her mourning period was over, she would be attending other balls, dancing with other men, having another lord confessing that he liked her very much. “And you were smitten.”