When she waltzed with Lord Wilbourne, she realized she was simply going through the motions, placing her feet where he led. There was no connection, no joy. Certainly, it was entertaining, but it was also lacking. She much preferred waltzing through her shop in the shadows.

She’d dreamed of a night like this, of having attention, of flirting, fluttering her eyelashes, blushing at compliments issued. She’d prepared for it since she was a little girl. Yet, somehow it paled, which made her feel guilty as Lord Wilbourne escorted her from the floor because the gentleman had wasted his time with her. This was not what she wanted. These men were not what she wanted. What she wanted was so much simpler, so much more rewarding: Matthew.

She’d barely taken a breath before Lord Beresford was at her side to claim his dance. “My lord.”

“You’ve been kept quite busy tonight.”

She smiled. A lady always smiled, no matter that her feet hurt, no matter that she wished to be elsewhere and would begin counting the minutes until she could leave. “It would appear so.”

“I know you favor books, Miss Trewlove. I wondered if you’d seen the Collinsworth library.”

“No, I’ve not had that pleasure.”

“Might you allow me to share it with you, rather than claim my dance? His lordship has a rare assortment of tomes I think you’d find intriguing.”

Her smile this time was genuine. “I would welcome a respite from dancing, words I never thought to utter. And you’ve definitely discovered my weakness. I can never say no to perusing books, ancient or otherwise. But is it acceptable for us to go into his library?”

“People wander through it all night. I would be honored to introduce you to it.”

“By all means, then. I’d be delighted to see it.”

He offered his arm, and she tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. She wondered briefly if Aslyn should accompany her, but if other people were about in the library, Lord Beresford couldn’t get up to any mischief.

As he led her up the stairs and into the hallway, she saw couples milling about, coming and going. A few acknowledged them with a nod or a smile, and she realized she was becoming more accepted. Men were now dancing with her; women were speaking with her. It seemed she was well on her way to winning them over, and yet it brought her little joy, not when her thoughts were occupied with a black-haired, green-eyed gentleman.

Beresford escorted her farther along the corridor. People were gazing at paintings or talking quietly. He turned down another hallway. No one was about, but that didn’t mean no one would be in time.