Bronwyn let out a bark of laughter. “Goodness, you’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you? If you must know, I’m keeping an eye out. Lord knows why my mother decided to host a ball.” She sniffed and gulped the rest of her too-warm champagne. “I mean, I know why she did—she wants to marry me off to that man over there.” She surreptitiously pointed to Lord Herbert, who was wandering around the ballroom with a very put-out look on his face and clearly looking for someone. Her, obviously…which was also why she was here and not down there.

Bronwyn knew she’d disappeared for a handful of dances, two of which had been promised to him, but the thought of dancing with another man made her feel ill.

It’s just a waltz.

Until it wasn’t. There was a reason she’d safeguarded all her waltzes, and deep down, there was only one partner who would do. A man who wanted her, but did not love her.

“Does Thornbury know how you feel?” Ravenna asked softly.

Bronwyn blinked, the name sending the slightest of shudders through her. “Don’t you mean Lord Herbert? That’s who I pointed to. Him, the pretty blond in the light-blue waistcoat with the cherubic cheeks and Byronic smile.”

He was too pretty, too soft, too agreeable.

Too not Valentine.

Good gracious, why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Herbert would be an excellent match. They would marry and make gorgeous cherubic children.…and she would be miserable in matrimony just like her mother. Heavens, she was twenty times a fool. She’d told the duke she would only marry for love, but what she had meant was that she would only marry him for love. Any other would do just fine.

He’s not for you, Bronwyn. He’s a solitary creature. A lone wolf.

“I don’t mean Lord Herbert.” Ravenna took hold of her hand. “Sister, what happened between the two of you? I know something did. My intuition has never failed me, and Courtland has been an absolute bear since you all returned from France. I’ve only seen him like that when something’s amiss with you or Florence. Rawley is tight-lipped, too, and his eyes shutter every time I mention your name.”

“Nothing happened,” Bronwyn said.

Everything happened. She swallowed, her throat dry, and wished that she had more champagne, but that would mean going back downstairs and mingling. It would mean flirting with a man she did not esteem and giving him her precious dances.

“I don’t believe that for one second,” Ravenna said quietly.