I didn’t need my mother’s nose for intrigue to smell rot. “This isn’t just miscommunication. The Ardentines know all about this supposed incident, but we don’t. Someone’s hiding something, or lying, or worse.”

“Ah, Lady Amalia!” a foppish voice interrupted from behind me.

I turned, realizing with dawning horror I’d wandered too close to the dance floor. A courtier done up in full Loreician style, dripping with lace and sporting a bejeweled codpiece, extended a flourishing hand. “They’re striking up a minuet, I believe. May I have this dance?”

Beyond him, another half dozen like him lurked in waiting. Panicked, I grabbed Marcello’s hand.

“Alas, I’m afraid I already promised this dance to Lieutenant Verdi.” I bestowed upon the courtier my most brilliant false smile. Marcello’s hand spasmed in mine, but he didn’t protest. I spun to face him and mouthed, “Help me.”

Without missing a beat, he bowed graceful assent, gesturing to the dance floor. “Shall we, my lady?”

As we moved into position, I whispered to him desperately, “Thank you. But I should warn you, I’m a terrible dancer.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I know my way around a minuet.”

The first delicate strains of music filled the ballroom. Marcello’s hand was warm around mine. His easy grin showed those charming dimples. At least he didn’t seem annoyed with me.

I circled and dipped, watching the other dancers out of the corners of my eyes, feeling a bit like a pigeon with all the bobbing up and down. At least my skirts hid my feet; so long as I didn’t bump into anyone, it didn’t matter if my steps weren’t quite right. Marcello’s eyes laughed at me, and I grinned back.

“I’ve noticed you’ve spent half your time escaping the attentions of young men tonight,” Marcello observed when we came together again. His sword calluses were hard against my palm, but otherwise his hand felt smooth and sure. He guided me with a gentle pressure from it, circling me in the right direction. “Is this a common problem for you?”

“It seems a popular belief that the heiress to a large fortune must be eager to marry at the earliest possible opportunity,” I replied.

“Ah.” He seemed about to say more; but the dance parted us again, and we bobbed around separately for a time. It was harder not to get lost among the other dancers without Marcello nudging me, but he caught my eyes and nodded in the right direction once or twice.

When we joined hands again, he drew me smoothly into position, making me look good through his own grace. He was a good dancer.

“They’re fools,” Marcello said. It took me a moment to remember he was talking about my erstwhile suitors.

“Well, yes. But was there a reason in particular you meant?”