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“My brother has been much caught up in the matter of Stoneleigh House,” Lord Carrington said, “and has taken on more than was his to carry. I should have urged him to mind his own affairs, but I did not. Be assured, Miss Galbraith — my brother has every intention of courting you, should you be willing to consider him.”

Lines formed across her brow.

“If he felt nothing, I do not think he would have marched across the park to fling angry words at his brother,” Viola put in gently. “Are you truly unaware of his interest?”

It took Miss Galbraith a moment, and then she nodded slowly, confusion lingering. A silence pressed in, and Viola sensed something had shifted that none of them had foreseen.

“My mother,” Miss Galbraith said at last, dragging in a shaking breath, “always insisted that you, Lord Carrington, were pleased to be in my company. She never marked Lord Brookmire’s interest, and I — I never let myself weigh it.”

“Because it was never made plain,” Lord Carrington said. “There has been a great deal of confusion. But I promise you, my brother holds you in real regard. He has only been distracted by Lady Warrington’s will, and by putting my troubles before his own.”

Miss Galbraith’s shoulders rounded. “I see,” she said faintly, her eyes on the ground. “Forgive me. I did not see his intentions clearly.”

Viola tilted her head, a question burning on her lips. “Is that why you sent those notes to me, Miss Galbraith? Because you were so eager for Lord Carrington’s notice? Because you thought I had wronged the gentleman you cared for?”

Miss Galbraith stepped back, her brows shooting up. “I have no affection for Lord Carrington, Miss Trent,” she said plainly. “It was only at my mother’s insistence that I believed I ought to consider him.” She frowned. “Whatever notes you speak of, I know nothing of them.”

Viola searched her face for artifice and found none.

“I understand now why you wish to speak with my mother, Lord Carrington,” Miss Galbraith went on, her eyes flashing to his. “But I am so afraid it will only stir further confusion, and all in the hearing of the ton.”

“You would have me speak with her privately?” At her nod, he pressed on. “But you must understand why the rumor concerns me. I have no connection to you, and no wish to court you. I cannot let it spread.”

“But must it be here, and now?” she asked, near desperate. “To have more said will only set society whispering the louder, and I cannot bear it.”

Slowly, Viola understood: Miss Galbraith was mortified by all her mother had done. Whether she would own it or not, the fright behind her eyes, the nervous flutter of her hands, told the truth, and Viola’s own heart softened with sympathy.

She sighed.

“I think it best that I take my leave, Lord Carrington.” She turned to face him, aware of Hannah waiting nearby. Searching his face, she offered a small smile to ease his frown. “I can see why Miss Galbraith asks it of you,” she said quietly, as the lady stepped back and turned away to grant them a little privacy. “If what she says is true, she may be as surprised by her mother’s words as we are.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “She will not own it to us plainly. But the fear is there.”

“Fear that the ton will gossip about her, which every young lady fears,” he murmured. “Are you certain you must go?” His hand reached out and caught hers, a shiver running up her arm. “I would far rather have you beside me.”

Viola smiled, knowing that to linger would make a spectacle of the whole affair. “I think it best.”

His mouth flattened, but he nodded, and then, to her surprise and delight, lifted her hand to his lips. The kiss he pressed there was not light, nor careless, but offered with a firm intention that sent a tremor up her arm and straight into her heart.

“I will see to it that society understands there is no connection between Miss Galbraith and myself,” he said. “Of that you may be certain.”

He took a small step closer, and the whole world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, gazing into one another’s eyes. The library rose between them — the brief touch of his lips, Hannah’s voice at the door — and she saw in his face that he was remembering it too, and that he was no sorrier than she was.

“My heart belongs elsewhere.”

The longing to answer him, to tell him the truth of her own heart, swelled in her. She opened her mouth — only for Hannah to move nearer, and Viola let out a soft breath, half contentment and half frustration. “You cannot know the joy it brings me to hear such words from you, Lord Carrington,” she said. “I hope that very soon we may both speak freely.”

“As do I, Viola.” He released her hand, and the wish to draw close again, not to lose his touch, drove itself into her very bones.

“Viola?”

She glanced at her sister, then stepped back from him, reluctant. “I shall be at Lord Linfield’s ball this evening.”

His eyes sparked. “Then I shall come in search of you the moment I enter the room.” The promise sent heat into her cheeks. “Might I be so bold as to ask you to save me the waltz?”

Viola nodded, a radiant smile breaking over her as Hannah touched her arm to lead her away. “I shall, Lord Carrington,” she said, barely above a whisper for the thrill of hope in her heart. “Until this evening.”

* * *

The cornflower silk had gone first to Lady Cordelia’s supper, as commanded. Tonight it had a greater errand.