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“To save us all, I had to keep playing the game. Once I knew Stafford’s true intent, I went to warn you all, and the rest you know.” His eyes held a sadness she had not expected. “I hate that I had to lie to you, but I cannot stay away any longer, Marianne. I know this changes nothing, but I must tell you how much I still admire you. How much I long to start over with you. Please tell me if you feel nothing for me.”

Marianne’s emotions were consuming her. Her eyes burned and her lungs felt tight and breathless. Her heart was galloping, worthy of an Ascot winner. She had spent so much time convincing herself that he was not for her. That it was Lucinda he liked. Lucinda he wanted to marry. Then, when Lucinda nearly died, she no longer wanted to think of him at all. To hear that it was she he had admired made hope rise in her chest, but could she believe him? He had lied to her before.

“I forgive you your part. Both Anthony and Warrington have told me of your bravery in helping save Lucinda. As to how I feel? I just do not know. Perhaps if we get to know each other properly this time, I will know who you truly are. Only then can I truly know my heart.”

As far as she was concerned, it was up to him now to prove to her that he could be trusted. His grin showed that he was happy with her answer.

“Then may I put my name on your dance card, Lady Marianne?”

“You may. I saved a waltz for you.”

He wrote his name on her card. “Thank you. Not just for the dance but for hearing me out. I am not proud of what happened, only to confess I had found myself a little lost after leaving my previous occupation to become an earl.”

“Spying, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“And you are no longer a spy?”

“No, I am not. I am a man who loves to paint. A man who wishes to win the heart of the most beautiful woman at this ball.”

“Flattery? And we are on a terrace and not even in the ballroom.”

“I shall work harder on my compliments.”

“I shall work harder at accepting them,” she said.

“Until our dance then,” he replied. He kissed her hand and her heart leaped.

“All right,” her brother said impatiently from the doorway. “Are you two done now?”

“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.” Dunstan bowed to her and then went back into the ballroom.

“That went well,” the duke said to Marianne, offering her his arm.

She looked up at him, still awhirl with conflicting thoughts on the earl. “He said all the right things and I think I believe him, but time will tell. Were you listening the whole time?”

“Only most of it,” he said with a small smile.

“I hate to admit it, but you were right. Perhaps I had been too hasty to judge him, not knowing the whole of the story.”

“I beg pardon, can you repeat that?”

The shock on his face was amusing, and Marianne laughed, swatting his arm. “No, I will not. Do not let it get to your head. You are unlikely to reach sainthood anytime soon.”

“White does not suit me in any case,” he replied as they walked back into the brightness of the ballroom.

At the refreshment table, Rose met another young lady who was quizzing her about the duke.

“Is he as aloof as he seems? He is awfully tall, isn’t he? Does he like to dance?”

“He can be. Yes, he is very tall, and no, he does not like to dance, although he is very good at dancing.”

“Is he looking for a wife?”

For a moment, Rose was tempted to say yes. He deserved to have unwanted attention from the ton mammas and their daughters. “No. I do not believe he is,” she said instead. The girl wandered away disappointed, but just as Rose was accepting her glass from a footman, she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

“I hope you did not have any designs on the duke yourself, sister.”