She tucked the letter into her reticule and pressed a palm to her unsettled belly. As she walked out of the house and strode down the pavement to the coach, she decided there was no way she could contact Reese tonight. Tomorrow, she’d write to him and apologize for not meeting him. By then, the news of her engagement would be on everyone’s lips, and her stubborn heart might finally give up on its hopelessly naïve notions.

The fairy tales had been wrong.

Love didn’t always win.

Sophie, Mary, Mama, and Papa glided into Lord Singleton’s ballroom, carried along with a stream of animated guests who exclaimed over the ballroom’s shimmering silk wall hangings, the abundant, fragrant white roses, and the brilliantly lit crystal chandeliers. Music floated up to the high coffered ceilings, and bubbly champagne flowed freely on the silver trays of efficient footmen.

Clearly, Lord Singleton had spared no expense, and the crowd already buzzed with whispers that the marquess would make a special announcement at midnight. Sophie painted on a smile as she approached him, extending her hand. He let his gaze wash over her, his expression appreciative … but also slightly wary.

“You’re looking positively lovely, Miss Kendall,” he said, bowing over her hand.

“Thank you, my lord.” Looking around the dazzling ballroom, she said, “You’ve outdone yourself. It’s beautiful.” She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were two strangers—mere acquaintances who were about to bind themselves together for eternity.

“I’m pleased you like it.” Leaning closer to her ear, he whispered, “Forgive me for not claiming you for the first set. If I did, I’m afraid everyone would guess our exciting news—and I would rather prolong the suspense.”

“I understand,” Sophie said, grateful that she wouldn’t be the subject of speculation all night long. Perhaps she’d even have the chance to talk privately with Fiona and Lily—and tell them the troubling news about her lost journal.

Charles proceeded to greet Mama with a polite bow, Papa with a bracing slap on the shoulder, and Mary with a kiss to her hand. Mary blushed furiously, and as they moved toward the refreshment table, Mama clucked her tongue. “If you attended more balls, Mary, you would not become so easily flustered.”

Papa grunted his agreement and reached for a glass of champagne, but Mama deftly steered him in the opposite direction. “Ah, I see the Hartleys are here. I haven’t spoken to them in an age. Let us go and pay our respects.”

Sophie walked behind her parents, nodding greetings to various acquaintances and craning her neck in search of Fiona’s fiery auburn hair or Lily’s gleaming dark curls. She didn’t see either of her friends or their dashing husbands, but one gentleman in the crowd did catch her eye.