He nearly tripped over his feet and hers. He couldn’t keep circling the floor as though everything were right with the world. With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her beyond the chalk circle to a vacant spot at the wall. “Are you sure of this?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. How could he even doubt it when Fancy was the most open and honest woman he’d ever known?

“Absolutely. My brother told me Beresford was in want of her dowry. It’s rather substantial. I gave my brother a good piece of my mind, I tell you, for going along with Beresford’s underhanded means. A lady should have a choice.”

He opened his eyes. “I know for a fact that the next day, Beresford met with her brother, to arrange the marriage.”

“That’s what he hoped to accomplish, but Miss Trewlove refused him. Then and there. Good for her, I say.”

Everything within him stilled. “You know this how?”

She sighed. “Several hours after the meeting, Beresford arrived at our residence, deep into his cups, bemoaning his misfortune, and my brother consoled him. I was listening at the door, as I’m wont to do. It’s the reason Lord Beresford isn’t in attendance this evening. He’s mortified she wouldn’t have him. I’m surprised you’d not heard all this. It was on everyone’s tongue for days.”

He could hardly blame Beresford for escaping into drink. Fancy was a diamond of the first water, and in spite of all his machinations, he had failed to gain her hand. But she’d told him she was going to marry the earl. Somewhere between his residence and her brother’s office, she changed her mind. Because he’d confessed to wanting to marry her? Or had she simply decided to place her own dreams ahead of her family’s?

“I’ve not been moving about in Society much.” He’d been holed up in his residence nursing his wounds, self-inflicted to be sure.

Lady Penelope angled her head thoughtfully. “I’m left with the impression, my lord, that you, also, are acquainted with Miss Trewlove, even though you’ve not attended any balls.”

In her tone, he heard no accusation, no search for gossip, merely interest. “I visited her bookshop.”

“Isn’t it the loveliest? Have you met Dickens?”

“I have.”

“He’s such a sweet—”

“Miss Fancy Trewlove!”

The majordomo’s booming voice echoed throughout the ballroom, bombarded Matthew’s soul. He swung around to see Fancy in an exquisite golden gown standing at the top of the stairs. Alone. Not a brother or sister in sight.

Standing tall, proud, and so beautiful in her glory that she fairly brought him to his knees.

“Will you excuse me, Lady Penelope?”