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Clara held her head high and tried not to be affected by it. After all, she had far too many other things to worry about than the opinions of the ton.

They were absorbed by the party. Refreshments were thrust into their hands, and a few people conversed with them. Some were genuine, but others seemed like they were fishing for information, asking how they met, how long they’ve been courting for, and other questions that were given under the veil of friendly curiosity, but really were fueled by bitter jealousy.

Clara and Gerald took it all in their stride. Clara supposed it helped that this was like a grand game, the kind she used to play as a child. They were fooling the ton, and the fact that some people were taking it so personally only made it funnier.

The music began in earnest. A musician was tinkling on a pianoforte, joined by a string trio. They played flowing, elegant music. Thomas and Helena seemed quite proud that they had managed to host these people. It would certainly do their reputation no harm at all.

“Will you do me the honor of accepting the first dance?” Gerald said.

“Of course,” Clara replied, dipping her head.

She had promised, after all.

They took to the dance floor, and if Clara had not been so preoccupied with Gerald’s eyes, then she might have seen the vicious glances cast in her direction. Clara had no way of knowing, of course, but this was the first time Gerald had taken to the dance floor at an event for some years. Many women in attendance harbored hopes that they would be the ones to break his drought, only to find that one, Clara Sterling had succeeded where they failed.

Gerald placed his hand against her waist, while the other cupped her hand. He kept a firm distance between them and his hand never wavered from its position. They moved gracefully, but it was awfully rehearsed.

“I think this is going rather well,” Gerald said.

“I certainly seem to have annoyed many people.”

“Often people seek to tear others down rather than examining their own shortcomings. It is the sin of comparison, and can either leave people feeling vain or bitter. It just proves why I was never interested in courting anyone from the ton in the first place.”

“You can be quite scathing when you want to be.”

“They deserve it. I never asked to have so much attention. But anyway, I don’t wish for our night to be defined by them. I have spent too much time thinking about them. Tell me a little more about yourself. Beatrice was quite a surprise. You didn’t mention her.”

“I didn’t realize I had to tell you everything,” Clara replied.

“Perhaps not everything, but your sister would have been worth a mention.”

“So would yours,” Clara said. Gerald took the point, but Clara relaxed a little, remembering the rule about contradicting him in public. This extended to discussions that might well turn heated too, she thought. “Beatrice and I have a strained relationship sometimes. She is not too far removed from Emily and the other children, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

“Perhaps you try to be too much of a governess and not as much of a sister,” Gerald said.

Clara nodded. “Perhaps, although I feel as though I have always been more to her than that. Ever since she was young, I have watched over her, taken care of her, put her needs above my own. All I ever wanted was to help my family.”

“And now you feel she’s being ungrateful?”

“Perhaps a little.”

“She will come around in time, I’m sure,” Gerald said. As they shifted around, Clara frowned a little.

“You are holding me far too carefully for a gentleman who is courting me,” she said. “Loosen your arm. Allow your body to move more freely, and let you hand drift a little,” she said. As soon as she uttered these words, Gerald’s hands slid down her body a few inches. She stifled a gasp at the sensation, for it felt as though he reached past her dress and touched the tingling flesh beyond.

It was a most strange occurrence, the latest in a long line of inexplicable feelings that swept through her, although for the moment she was in denial about the obvious cause. Then, he put pressure on the small of her back and drew her closer to him. The distance closed suddenly, the air being ripped from the space between them, just as her breath was being ripped from her lungs.

The world closed in to being incredibly narrow. She had never been this close to a man, and it stirred something that had lain dormant inside her. The background scenery melted away, even the music, which faded below the pressure of her rushing blood. Gerald filled the world: his broad shoulders, challenging smile, tousled hair. It was all there, in front of her, like a mountain waiting to be scaled.

Clara stumbled, missing a step.

“Was that a pretense as well?”

“That was a mistake by the musicians. They must be playing a version of the song I am unfamiliar with,” she said quickly, but looked down, trying to compose herself. Why was he causing these things inside her? This was all a lie, a trick, an illusion, but was she falling prey to the magic herself? Was she so convinced by it that she was suffering?

Thankfully, their promise only extended to the first dance, so they took a well-needed rest after this. Gerald seemed pleased when Eleanor was asked to dance, but the smile faded from his face when a gentleman approached them.

“Excuse me, I wondered if you would like to dance,” he said, introducing himself as Sir Lionel Mercer, a man with a kind smile and wide eyes. He was a little shorter than Gerald, but not by much, and he spoke softly. Clara turned to Gerald, putting him in an awkward position. They were only courting, so there was nothing precluding Clara from enjoying a dance with another man, for a dance was just a dance and did not guarantee a promise. If Gerald refused he would be seen as possessive.