She gave me the perfect opening, the perfect opportunity to tell her how I feel, or at least to begin to tell her how I feel since I don't seem to truly know myself. And I said nothing. I stood in the center of this ballroom, flapping my lips like a fish while she waited. And then she walked away. As she should have.

I'd done nothing but mutter a curse and push through the gathering crowd of women to the bar. Two glasses of brandy later, I was still drowning my sorrows when a familiar voice spoke up behind me.

"You seem even less interested in the festivities than usual," Benthem remarked. He was smiling when I turned to face him but I could see the concern in his eyes all the same. "Are you competing with Emily for most sullen wallflower at the ball? If so, you've got quite the competition."

"I've got a lot on my mind, Benthem," I snapped, far too harshly, at a friend who was only trying to help.

"The girl?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Business," I lied. "And this thing with my uncle who followed me here. I just- Benthem, I think I need some time away."

Benthem's lips parted slowly in surprise. I could see why. Here I was out drinking and gambling with them one night and the next I'm ready to skip town. But he just didn't know. None of them did.

Then I saw him. The final nail in my coffin, the final straw, whatever metaphor most fit the situation. My uncle. Edward was across the room, schmoozing some rich men without a clue in the world who he was or what he'd done. My jaw tensed and I slammed the glass of brandy ont he counter so hard that most of it sloshed out the sides.

"I'm leaving," I announced before even thinking about it. "I ride for Northumberland in the morning."

Benthem's eyes bulged from his head but I gave him no time to question me, pushing past him instead, toward my uncle. Edward didn't even see me approach, so engrossed was he in his conversation with the other men his age.

"You won," I spat when I reached him. He eyed me for a moment before politely dismissing his conversational companions with some excuse about family business.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Victor," Edward replied easily. I narrowed my gaze at him and set my jaw.

"I'm going back," I told him. "Tomorrow. To face my mess head on. It's what you wanted, isn't it? For me to return to all of that?"

"Unfortunately, Victor, you never gave me the chance to tell you what I wanted. I assure you it wasn't that. Though, I imagine it will be good for you to go back to where you belong."

He said it placidly enough but I saw his eyes narrow to slits, the venom in his voice, the malice in his posture. Even if no one else could see it. I saw it. I hadn't before. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

I just turned and walked away from him, turned and found myself face to face with a sea of black silk, a sea of darkness that reminded me of her, of how beautiful she'd looked in her own silk, of how all of these other women were just trying to be her. But they never would. And I would never see them as anything but. I would never see anything but her.

I pushed through the crowd toward the exit. I had to get out of here. I had to get away from this ball, from these people, from this accursed town. I grabbed a bottle of brandy from one of the servers on the way and stumbled out the door into the night beyond without anyone trying to stop me.