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Mariah didn’t say anything. It felt shockingly personal, but it was only her shoes, after all. And then he released her foot and that was it.

There was a rustle and a quiet thump as he climbed back onto the balustrade, and his voice came from her left. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel better already.”

She wiggled her toes. She could still feel the stroke of his fingers on her ankle. “Perhaps.”

He gave a low sigh of pleasure. “I feel immensely better.”

Mariah squirmed a bit, settling more comfortably on the balustrade. “It does feel lovely,” she admitted. A breeze ruffled her skirts, and she pulled them up just a little, letting the cool air swirl around her ankles. She tipped back her head, surprised to find that she did feel better, either from the fresh air or from expressing her frustration. “I don’t think it will make the gentlemen more interesting, though.”

It was quiet for a minute. Then he spoke. “Do you see the bright star there, near the horizon, to our left?”

Mariah looked. “Yes.”

“That is Venus. The goddess of love and beauty. And yet, we can only see her because the moon is hidden.” She caught the dim shape of his arm, sweeping across the heavens. “All these stars, many larger and brighter than our sun, are hidden when the moon comes out. And yet, the moon gives no light of her own. It’s all reflected from the sun. Odd, isn’t it, how that reflected light can drown out natural brilliance?”

Mariah smiled wryly, touched by his analogy. “So I’m destined never to be seen, in the reflected glow of my father’s glory.”

“And yet more men are intrigued by the mysteries of the stars than by the common moon. No doubt many are gazing at them this very night.”

She shot a sharp glance in his direction, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to say that. I had been feeling very outshone tonight, or at least drowned in someone else’s brilliance. Most people would have thought I reveled in the attention.”

“No, I...” He paused. She heard the soft thud as he landed on his feet again. “Someone is calling you,” he said, all trace of levity gone from his voice.

“Oh? Oh—really?” Mariah tried to listen over the sudden pounding of her blood. He had his hands on her waist. Other gentlemen tonight had put their hands on her waist as they danced, but not like this. Not when they were alone in the dark.

“Yes. Here, let me help you down.” She put her hands gingerly on his shoulders again, and he lifted her off the balustrade. This time he let her go at once, melting back into the darkness. Mariah felt around with her foot for her slippers and stepped back into them as she heard her mother calling her name, her voice growing nearer and more concerned.

“It’s my mother,” she whispered. The realization jolted her back to sense. “Just a moment.” She brushed the back of her skirt and hurried to the drape, slipping through and twitching it closed behind her. “Yes, Mama?”

Her mother turned, her frown clearing. “Heavens, Mariah, where did you go? Your partner for the supper dance is waiting.”

“I’m sorry, I was savoring the fresh air. I felt a slight headache coming on.”

Mama cupped her chin, examining her face. “You do look flushed. Are you recovered?”

“Nearly, Mama,” she said with a determined smile. “I shall be in directly.”

Her mother’s eyebrow arched. “Now, Mariah.”

“A moment, Mama,” said Mariah just as firmly. “Please.”

Her mother’s other eyebrow went up. “Is there someone on the balcony with you?”

Mariah wet her lips. “Why would you think that?” Should she lie to her mother—something she rarely did—or tell the truth, and find herself in trouble? “Of course not.”

Her mother trusted her. “All right. Compose yourself, but you must return soon. Your father will not put up with the young man forever.”

“I will, Mama. Thank you.”

The countess smiled and was gone. With a sigh of relief, Mariah ducked back behind the drape and turned toward the end of the balcony. It seemed even blacker now after a few moments back in the light. She felt utterly blind.

“It’s the supper dance,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward. Would they walk back into the ballroom together, after he declared the night made for anonymity and she told him how silly she found most of her parents’ guests? But she didn’t want not to see him again. “You must put on your shoes again.” There was no reply. She edged toward where her mysterious companion had been. She didn’t even know how to hail him. “Sir?”

“Good-bye,” came his quiet voice, but now from below, far below. Her eyes widened, and she hurried to the balustrade and peered over into the darkness.

“How did you get down there?” she exclaimed.