So many people murmured their pleasure at meeting her that she lost track of the number, as well as the names. Even the little game she played for associating names with individuals began to fail her. Simply too many needed to be remembered. Then she realized she wasn’t extending her hand to anyone or plastering a smile on her face.

“That’s done,” Thorne said. “Let’s make a break for it before the next round of guests arrives.” He held his hand out to his duchess, and hers glided into his so easily, but then Fancy wasn’t surprised. She’d seen the closeness between them too many times to count. She longed for that sort of relationship, where so much was communicated with merely a look or a touch. To be known so well.

Gillie waved Mick and Aslyn over. “Mick, you’ll dance with Fancy.” Her words were a command, not a question. Owning a tavern and a pub, she was accustomed to ordering people about.

“Naturally.” He winked at his wife. “You’ll have my next dance.”

“And each one after that,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes.

The duke raised his arm and signaled the orchestra. The music quieted, went silent, and everyone turned their attention to Thornley. Such was his power, his ability to command an audience with little more than his presence. Then he took Gillie’s hand, urging her closer to him, and tucked it within the crook of his arm. “My duchess and I thank you all for joining us this evening. It is our pleasure to have you share her sister’s debut into Society. She is an exceptional young woman, and we are wishing her the very best.” A look toward the orchestra, another gesture.

“A tune not on the dance sheet,” Gillie whispered. “This one is for you, Fancy.”

The gentle strains of the violin lilting through the parlor were soon joined by flutes, lutes, the pianoforte, and a host of other instruments creating a lush version of “The Fairy Wedding Waltz.”

As one the crowd scattered to the edges of the chalk line that designated the area marked for dancing. The duke led his duchess into its center, took her in his arms, and swept her over the polished parquet. After they circled once, Mick escorted Fancy onto the floor.

“My first official waltz in a ballroom,” she said lightly, striving not to reveal her nervousness, concentrating on his beloved face. One of her earliest memories was looking up from her small bed to see him hovering over her as he sang her name over and over to lull her into sleep. Even when she’d been only two or three, and he sixteen or seventeen, he’d taken on the role of her protector, being more of a father to her than a brother.

“It’s been a long time coming.”

“You made it possible.”