SHE DANCED ALONE IN THE EMPTY BALLROOM AFTER MIDNIGHT-UNAWARE THE DUKE WAS WATCHING

pitcher on the small table. The water bit her cheeks.

Outside her tiny window, a wren was singing on the roof tiles, and she could smell bread from the kitchen far below. She dressed in her plain gray morning gown, pinned up her hair, and went down.

Her aunt, Lady Marchmount, was already in the breakfast room, though lines was early. Her aunt did not continue reading …