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Isabel was also one of the most polite and refined people he’d ever known. And this was the first time he knew her to directly ask him what she wanted without leading a polite conversation, which spoke volumes about her agitation.

“Delighted to see you, too, dear sister. What a lovely turnout, wouldn’t you say? And there I thought after all the scandals that our family has been embroiled in, we would have no attendees.”

“It helps to be a marchioness,” she said evenly and smoothed her skirt. “And having powerful friends. People tend to forget one’s misconduct if one is surrounded by nobility.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I suppose having the Duchess of Somerset as an attendee eased the burden.”

“It did,” she said sharply. “And yet, you are avoiding my question.”

He pretended innocence. “I am doing no such thing!”

“Yes, you are. And you are also trying to ruin Beatrice’s night. Why?”

“That is a preposterous accusation,” he protested vehemently, although he knew very well that she was right. “And you came up with this wonderful theory, how?”

“By watching you settle her with terrible dance partners the entire night.”

Adam shrugged. “I am doing my duty as a hostess’s brother to ensure that everyone has a dance partner.”

“There is a line of wallflowers over there.” Isabel waved a hand. “And I would have asked you to shift your focus to them, except that I see that you’re a terrible person for the job.”

“Look,” Adam let out a sigh, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then, enlighten me. Please.”

“Miss Fowley’s wish is to dance all the dances during the ball. I am just helping her fulfill said wish.”

Isabel grimaced. “By pushing her toward the men no one ever wishes to dance with?”

“Do not be so harsh.”

“If I am wrong, then how come you won’t dance with her?”

“I’ve danced plenty of dances with her.” He stiffened.

“Once!”—twice—“and that wasn’t tonight. It was during Gage’s betrothal ball, which was a total disaster for her, and this ball is turning out just as disastrously. Can’t you find a little kindness and compassion for the girl?”

He had plenty of compassion, but not when it was forced upon him. “I am doing what is right. Do not interfere.”

Isabel threw him a look he had never seen before. A look that communicated surprise mixed with betrayal, perhaps? Or worse, disappointment. It looked as though she stared at him but didn’t recognize the person staring back. And oddly, that look hurt more than any words could. “You are plotting something,” she accused. “And whatever it is, I do not like it.”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

* * *

This ball was pure hell.

The first mistake Beatrice made was assuming dancing all the dances of the ball was an easy feat. It wasn’t.

Beatrice didn’t exactly have a delicate constitution. She was strong and agile, some days walking miles to a village market and back, looking after the house and her siblings. But she did those things in sensible footwear, and the slippers she had on right now made her feet ache.

And then there was mistake number two.

She had underestimated her opponent.

Adam navigated the ton with practiced ease. He knew everyone and, as a result, he picked the worst possible partners for her to dance with. Lord Hexley was perhaps the best of the six dance partners Adam had set her up with so far.

Lord Hexley was partially deaf, so not only did he not hear Beatrice’s words, but he could barely follow the music. As a result, the dance had been a bit of a nightmare, and Beatrice had to shout throughout the entirety of it in order to communicate with the old gentleman, making her voice hoarse. But he was a sweet and charming man, and Beatrice was glad to make his acquaintance.