He scowled at the scene inside Lady Rufflebum’s glittering ballroom, where chandeliers glowed and the orchestra played. Elegant couples moved across the dance floor with the same precision as soldiers marching toward the front lines. On the perimeter of the room, matrons and older gentlemen gathered in clusters, forming encampments where they could safely observe the action without actually venturing into the fray.

Reese spied several young women with blond hair inside the house, but even from a distance he could tell that none of them was Miss Kendall. Though he’d only met her once, and they’d only conversed for an hour or so, everything about her had been indelibly imprinted on his mind. Her wildflower scent, her effortless grace, her lyrical voice. He saw her when he closed his eyes … and he suspected the valerian root was to blame.

He remained in his hiding spot, keeping company with the frogs and occasionally looking into the ballroom, hoping for a glimpse of Miss Kendall. The hours wore on, and just when he was about to abandon his post, he saw her.

Wrapped in an airy swath of emerald-green silk, she twirled across the parquet dance floor. Her hair was gathered in a knot at her crown, but a few honey-colored curls floated around her face and down her neck. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman there. She didn’t wear the most expensive jewels. She wasn’t even the most accomplished dancer.

But she was the only one that he saw.

He blamed the damned tea for that, too.

She danced with a large, dark-haired man. Reese didn’t know him, but he looked to be the sort who took everything for granted—his dashing looks, immense wealth, high-born status … and his current dance partner.

Reese rolled his shoulders and eased the tension out of his neck. Who cared if Miss Kendall danced with a rich, arrogant young buck? She could dance with the devil if she wished.

All Reese needed from her was the recipe for the brew she’d concocted. The one that had, by some miracle, given him a few hours of peace.

So he tried to be patient as she finished her waltz. Watched with interest as she joined two young women—sisters, if he had to guess—and embraced each of them warmly. He imagined it would be quite pleasant to be hugged by Miss Kendall, partly because she smelled nice, and partly because she cared about everything—people, plants, probably animals too.

She talked animatedly with her friends, and when she smiled, soft and true, the sight made his chest physically ache. He tried to rub the pain away, but it lingered like a phantom, taunting him. Telling him he’d never be enough.