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Alaric despised balls. He didn’t even know why he was here tonight. Being inside a crowded room of swirling silks and hopeful young misses only reminded him of his secret courtship of Lenora. He had enjoyed her affection, and he’d imagined having a duchess at his side by now—someone to dispel the loneliness. But instead, he had no one.

He hadn’t attended a social gathering in months. From the shock on Lady Garwood’s face at his arrival, he was now convinced that coming here tonight had been a mistake. They would think he was here to seek a wife. Which wasn’t exactly true.

He’d accepted the invitation for two reasons. First and foremost, he’d heard that Lenora would be here this evening with her new husband. He’d wanted to observe them, to see if she regretted her decision and if she was as miserable as he was.

Or whether she was…happily married to the earl. He didn’t want it to be true, but the possibility was there. The familiar resentment sank its claws into him, leaving only pieces of the man he’d once been.

His second reason for attending the ball was because he’d heard that Lady Charlotte would be here with her family.

If Lenora was satisfied with her decision to wed the earl, then Alaric might consider Charlotte as a possible bride. Not for lack of options—he’d had no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. But he’d never encountered anyone quite like Lady Charlotte. Her pragmatism appealed to him.

But before he made any kind of decision, he needed to learn more about her, to watch her among the ton and determine whether she could hold her own in society. He considered himself an excellent judge of character, and often the way a young lady carried herself was the best way to determine whether she could govern a household. Lady Charlotte seemed like the sort of young woman who would immediately seize command and do what needed to be done. He couldn’t help but admire her fortitude, even though he wasn’t certain what to do about this marital offer.

Alaric stepped forward, and his presence was announced. At that moment, ripples of gossip seemed to flood the ballroom, adding to his discomfort. It was best to conduct his business swiftly and leave.

His gaze swept over the crowd, searching for Lenora or her husband, but there was no sign of either. Instead, he saw an array of matrons whispering to their daughters, and it almost felt as if an army were advancing upon him. Before he could retreat, his gaze fixed upon a bright rose gown, and he saw Lady Charlotte standing near her mother.

Unlike the other ladies, she was engaged in conversation with three other gentlemen. There was no doubting their genuine interest, and it was clear she’d been telling the truth about having multiple offers of marriage.

But before he could cross the room, his hostess stepped in front of him. ‘Your Grace, we are delighted to see you this evening,’ Lady Garwood said. ‘What a lovely surprise.’

He turned his head, and the countess was already leading a young lady towards him. ‘Have you met my daughter, Lady Muriel?’

‘I have not,’ he answered. Although he maintained the guise of civility, his patience was starting to wane as mothers lined up to introduce their daughters.

And still he hadn’t seen Lenora. Maybe it was for the best.

Lady Charlotte remained on the opposite side of the room, and when at last Alaric caught her gaze, she appeared slightly disconcerted. Almost as if she’d never expected him to be here.

‘Pardon me,’ he said to no one in particular as he left Lady Garwood and crossed the room.

The musicians had begun playing the next set, and when he reached Lady Charlotte’s side, her father, Lord Valhurst, stepped forward. The man was short and stout, but the intrigued expression on his face said that he knew exactly why Alaric had come.

‘Your Grace.’ He inclined his head slightly. ‘May I present my daughter to you?’

Right. He wasn’t supposed to know who Charlotte was.

He endured the familiar introductions, nodding when it was expected of him. Before Lord Valhurst could venture into conversation, Alaric offered his arm to Charlotte. She took it and smiled as they departed from her family.

As they walked together, he suddenly realised that they would be expected to dance. Charlotte saw the moment he froze and predicted, ‘You didn’t really want to dance with me, did you?’

‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Then we’ll promenade instead.’ A curious smile slid over her face. ‘For someone who has just arrived, you look utterly miserable. Or am I wrong?’

‘I would rather attend a funeral than this,’ he admitted, leading her towards the wall, away from the others.

‘I don’t mind balls.’ She paused to look at him. ‘I enjoy watching the guests and dancing. It can be fun.’

He grimaced at the thought, so Charlotte asked, ‘If you don’t like balls, what do you enjoy? Besides glowering at people, that is.’

‘I’m not glowering.’

‘You’re not smiling either.’ But she shook her head and offered, ‘Would you care to step outside to see Lady Garwood’s garden?’

Anything to get out of the ballroom, he thought. And when she rested her gloved hand on his arm, it felt almost as if she were rescuing him.

‘I won’t ask why you are in such a terrible mood,’ she continued. ‘At least I know I am not the cause of it.’