For the love of me I could not keep up with his ever-changing thoughts. “I thought you love us both?” I raised my brow with skepticism.

“I don’t know anymore… I am so confused,” he murmured with a tortured voice. “That’s why I need to kiss you, to know who I love more.”

My jaw almost hit the floor. If we’d be alone right now, I would’ve most certainly slapped him. “Under no circumstance!” I laughed bitterly. This man was more confused than my aunt after inhaling a whole bottle of mead.

“Ashlyn, I need this! Please!” He squeezed my hand with a desperate motion.

He needed this? “I said no,” I glared at him in a very unladylike fashion.

I almost screamed with joy when the Quadrille finally terminated and morphed into another, slightly slower dance. Dancing with one partner was unacceptable, at least if you didn’t want any undesirable rumors following you around. I did not care for my next partner or about the fact that the following dance was Waltz, but was simply relieved to be away from Jared.

The fist gentle notes of pianoforte resounded through the room and forced me to put my hand on the gentleman’s shoulder. Our fingertips barely touched, yet compared to the other males I danced with, his skin wasn’t as smooth but hardened as though he was used of hard labour. Although I was considered pretty tall for a woman with my 5.7 feet, he towered over me by at least five inches. I had to tilt back my head to see his silver-black mask of a wolf. The warm amber color contradicted the almost threatening nature of his disguise, but was still unable to take away from his subdued character.

“Your Grace? How come you are dancing?” Never have I seen him on the dance floor, only standing by the wall, quietly observing others. He was notably surprised I’d recognized him so quickly – as if so inconspicuous.

“I… am n-not, I… I w-was worried a-about y-you. You h-haven’t caught cold or f-flu, h-have you?

“No, I am completely healthy, You Grace, thank you for your concern.”

I promised myself to avoid this gentleman, and yet somehow, I ended up dancing a Waltz with him. A Waltz!

“You’re a-attire is very b-beautiful,” he stuttered while he twirled me under his arm. His dancing expertise were barely modest to be fair – his movements stiff and uncoordinated.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I must admit, I am quite curious - why wolf? I thought you are rather fond of horses,” a red burning flame crept up my cheeks when I realized I might’ve offended him.

“A W-Wolf is an a-admirable creature – c-courageous, intelligent, l-loyal and a-above else, d-devoted to its f-family.”

But also highly social, they lived in packs did they not? Baxter Read was more of a lone wolf, but perhaps by putting on a façade made him braver, made him feel as if he belonged.

I tried to maintain as little contact between us as I possibly could. But when his hand rested on the small of my back and my arm on his shoulder, the concept of space was virtually nonexistent.

It felt awfully peculiar to be this close to him. I persistently avoided his gaze and kept my eyes fixated on his black vest. It was astonishing how athletic his figure really was. Some gentlemen were slim, but lacked the built like his. Did he perhaps train at Jackson’s?

I shook my head to clear the scattered ways of my mind. I had no business staring at his chest.

“A-Are you a-all right, L-Lady Ashlyn?” He inquired with worry in his eyes.

“Absolutely,” I answered a little too hastily which caused to paint my cheeks pink. My very evident embarrassment was thankfully lifted as he clumsily stepped onto my slipper and almost tripped over.

“I-I apologize! T-Truly!” He nervously stammered with horror in his eyes.

I was however glad for his graceless distraction. “It’s aright, You Grace.”

While I had him this close, I might as well address the pressing matter that gnawed my mind. “May I ask you something?” I let my eyes met his.

“O-of course,” he nodded.

“Was it you who sent me the roses?” I carefully studied his face, not missing the surprise and finally embarrassment reflecting in his eyes.

“I… I, oh. Yes,” he finally admitted with downcast gaze.

Edith’s prediction was correct than.

“But why didn’t you add your name? Why hide your identity?”

Baxter’s jaw tightened painfully. “Y-you would’ve p-probably t-thrown them in t-the trash, k-knowing who i-it was.”

I had to admit, his effort frightened me, however I would never toss away such a beautiful gift – well, maybe if it came from Lord Tinley. “Of course not! They are very pretty, thank you,” I said politely. My mind urged me to ask him to discontinue his efforts. It was utterly meaningless for him to send me anything as I had no interest in his courting. I would never marry him. But like always my heart was too soft, I didn’t have it in me to tell him the same things others whispered behind his back. It felt cruel to reject his advances so directly.

“I’ve heard you have a lovely rose garden,” I instead smiled at him.

“Yes, h-here in L-London. M-my g-great-grandfather already had a f-fondness for rose b-bushes,” he explained while spinning me under his arm.

I should’ve ran away as soon as I noticed that look on his face. The look full of tenderness and admiration. I was only leading him on and I felt like I was no better that Jared - I felt guilty. And guilt at last surpassed the feelings of compassion. To remedy it I needed to be firmer - for both of our sakes.

“How lovely, Your Grace,” I said dismissively. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you by any chance know where Lord Stanley is? I truly wished for a chance to dance with him tonight.”

I foolishly believed I’d be relieved but instead it felt awful. It was a cowardly move to escape. My stomach sank when I noticed his crestfallen look.

W-Well,” he cleared his throat. “I believe he is d-dancing with his b-bride to be,” he said carefully while briefly gazing at my expression.

“He is betrothed?” I asked with astonishment. He must have mixed my surprise with disappointment for his pained look deepened.