She stood and paced the wide pebbled garden path, trying to imagine that she was in the tailor’s shop with all the familiar faces of her friends circled around her. If she could explain her dilemma to the members of the Debutante Underground and seek their advice, what would they say?

She pictured Sarah and Ivy, Violet and Abigail, and all the others … and she knew precisely what they’d tell her. To be fearless, and to follow her heart.

She knew, because it was the same advice she’d offer anyone else who asked. And now she had to find the fortitude to act upon it. She had to walk back into that ballroom and tell Lord Singleton that she couldn’t marry him.

Feeling more sure of herself than she had in days, she picked up her skirts and ran toward the house. It would be difficult to tell Charles that she’d changed her mind, but she’d be doing both of them a favor in the end. And once she’d officially called off their betrothal, she couldn’t wait to seek out Reese.

She dashed across the terrace, through the French doors, and into the ballroom, breathlessly searching the room for the marquess—and, almost immediately, he appeared at her side.

“There you are, Miss Kendall,” he said slyly. “Would you care to dance?”

“Actually, I hoped we could talk,” she said.

Lord Singleton chuckled and glanced nervously at the small group of people gathered around them. “I’m sure we can converse on the dance floor,” he said.

Sophie hesitated. Now that she’d made her decision, it felt rather hypocritical to waltz with him. But she didn’t wish to humiliate him either.

“Very well,” she said, accepting the arm he’d offered. “But I’d like to talk with you afterward.”

He gave her hand a patronizing pat and escorted her to the dance floor, where he swept her into a line of couples twirling in time to the music.

“What was it you wished to talk about, my dear?” he asked smoothly.

Sophie raised her chin so that she could meet his eyes. “I think it best to broach the subject after this set—in private.”

“That could be rather difficult. I am the host of this ball, after all,” he said, deftly spinning her underneath his raised arm. “And it’s less than an hour till midnight, when we shall toast our engagement. Perhaps I could call on you tomorrow morning and we could have a proper conversation then.”

Her heart kicked into a gallop. “This cannot wait,” she said firmly.

He narrowed his eyes as, hands raised above their heads, they moved toward each other, then apart. “I do hope you’re not having second thoughts.”

Blast. She hadn’t wanted to tell him like this … but there was no help for it. “I’m afraid I am. I cannot marry you, Charles.”