Cyril sat at his desk staring at the letter that was written to the woman that he loved. There was no use in denying the feeling. Only love could make a man feel this miserable. He read the words so many times that he knew them by heart, and knew that they described his feelings for her perfectly. Especially the part that said "To be apart from you is torture to the highest degree."

Today, she will be presented to the Queen and by the Season's end he had no doubt she will have made a brilliant match. He wondered if Lord Foxcroft was the man who wrote her the letter. "Perhaps, she is exactly where she belongs."

"Balderdash!"

Cyril looked up. He had thought he was alone. "I am in no mood, Mr. Harris," Cyril warned.

Mr. Harris leaned on Cyril's desk. "You LOVE her."

"Yes, but she does not return the sentiment. She has another. And I wish her and Lord Foxcroft every happiness."

"Lord Foxcroft?!" Mr. Harris exclaimed. "What nonsense are you babbling? There is no possibility that girl could ever love a selfish, contemptible rake, like Lord Foxcroft!"

Cyril's head shot up. "You know him?"

"Yes," Mr. Harris said, standing up erect again. "There wasn't a woman left in England that he did not sleep with or try to. That is why his parents had to exile him abroad. He was going to be the death of them. I know because I am their lawyer. I had to arrange several pay-offs to hush scandals and salvage broken relationships. He had nearly bankrupted them."

Cyril's eyes looked wild. "She was with him the last time I had seen her."

"Are you certain you saw what you think you seen?" Mr. Harris questioned.

"Spoken like a true lawyer," Cyril said, and he could not deny the sense of Mr. Harris' words. Just because he had seen them together did not mean there was more behind it. She did after all leave the shop without him.

"His family is still desperate for funds. It is the only reason they would risk calling him back to England. They need him to marry to become solvent again and what better prize than Lady Annabelle Bentley."

"How would he even become aware?" Cyril questioned, he did not like where this was going.

"Lady Cantrell is a friend of Lord Foxcroft's Aunt. She may have mentioned something. You know how these events go. Not much stays undisclosed in these circles. Even if Lady Cantrell did not say something directly to Lady Foxcroft, does not mean it did not get back to her."

Cyril knew there was truth to that statement. "She is to be presented today."

Mr. Harris folded his arms. "So, what now? Is there any hope? Her ball is tonight."

"Only a fool's hope," Cyril stated.

"A fool's hope is sometimes all that's needed," Mr. Harris said. "You have a plan?"

"That depends?"

"On?"

"Whether or not I have a good legal council?"

Mr. Harris, chuckled, shaking his head saying, "The things we do for love."

"But first," Cyril said, standing up and grabbing his coat. "I need a hat!"

- - - - - - - - -

Annabelle sat at the vanity staring at her reflection. The rest had done her good. Her outward appearance showed nothing of the turmoil she was experiencing inside. It had taken Ms. Pratt quite some time to dress her in her presentation gown again as now the train had to bustled so that she may dance.

Since her Aunt had strictly chosen the guest list. She would be expected to dance with any man that asked, as a guest of her Aunt any man she invited would already be considered introduced. However, her Aunt warned her not to dance with any of them more than once unless she wished to make him an acquaintance and definitely not more than twice as it would a detriment to her reputation.

So, many rules to remember, it made her head ache. She would be expected to lead the first dance. It would begin with a minuet, which of course would happen sometime after supper. As she caught a glance of her face in the mirror, she could see a desperate desire to escape in her eyes. "Oh, Mr. Kane. Why couldn't it have been you? Why didn't you choose me and save me from all of this?"

"Miss?" Ms. Pratt said as she knocked on the door. "They are ready for you Miss. Almost all of the guests have arrived."

"Thank you, Ms. Pratt," Annabelle said, and rose to greet her future.

She was announced before she descended the elegant staircase. She was very careful with her steps, yet wondered 'If I take a tumble and sprain my an ankle, would they all be sent home until I have healed?...If only.'

She courteously welcomed her guests, and had received many compliments on her beauty or her dress. She thanked them all and patiently waited for when they would be called for supper. At least then she'd only have to carry on one or two conversations, as she'd be more isolated when seated. At the moment she felt overwhelmed by all the attention.

She had seen from across the room that Lord Foxcroft was headed her way. As she was currently engaged in conversation she could not just leave and walk away without appearing rude but thankfully her Aunt interceded on her behalf.

"Annabelle, I wish you to meet Sir Thomas Lawrence. He is Painter-in-Ordinary to his Majesty. I had told him of your conversation with the Queen and thought perhaps he may have some pointers for you which you may like to discuss during dinner."

"Lady Annabelle Bentley," Sir Lawrence said, bowing slightly.

Annabelle dazzled him with a smile. "Sir Lawrence, I am honored, sir to make your acquaintance."

Just then the bell rang for dinner and Sir Lawrence offered her his arm, which she had gladly taken and he lead her to the dinning room. "You must be a great artist to be noticed by Queen Charlotte."

"I am an amateur at best, Sir Lawrence but it is all rather exciting to be even considered."

Sir Lawrence had a bit of a sad smile to him. He seemed a melancholy sort. As he seated her in her chair he said, "When I was given my first Royal Commission I was just a few years older than you are now."

Annabelle was intrigued. "Who were you commissioned to paint?"

"The Queen and Princess Amelia."

"Amazing and so young," Annabelle was not certain of Sir Lawrence's age but guessed his age to be perhaps in his thirties.

"I got an early start," he said, as dinner began.

"Did she like your painting?"

Sir Lawrence laughed and it transformed his features. "No," he said.

"Oh," Annabelle gasped, feeling the flutters of such an undertaking, wondering if she would be up to the task.

"She found me presumptuous, but you must always remember Lady Annabelle 'beauty is always in the eye of the beholder'. That same painting which is now sitting in my studio was exhibited at the Royal Academy and had done rather well. So you see, even if her Majesty turns your works away, do not look upon that as validation of whether or not you are a good artist. Let the world decide. You may find yourself pleasantly surprised."

"I shall take your advice to heart, Sir Lawrence. And I thank you so much for it."

"My pleasure," he said.

They all talked amicably throughout the meal and outside of the occasional furtive glance she'd see from Lord Foxcroft who was seated about as far from her as her Aunt could manage, Annabelle's mood was quite improved. By the time, she had to open the dance floor she knew exactly who she hoped to dance with.

"Would you allow me the honor?" Sir Lawrence asked.

"Yes," Annabelle said as they lead the rest of the room in the minuet. She had requested immediately upon the dance's end for another and Sir Thomas Lawrence readily agreed.

Unfortunately, Lord Foxcroft was the very next to claim a dance. "Will you dance with me, Lady Annabelle?" He knew she could not refuse him. If she did she would be expected not to dance for the rest of the evening, as this was her ball, that just could not be done.

Outside for nodding her assent she did not give him even a second glance as he lead her out to the dance floor. He could not believe how standoffish, Lady Annabelle was treating him. "Certainly, you are not still mad at me over what happened last week" Lord Foxcroft asked, amazed.

Annabelle just glared at him. "I agreed to dance with you Lord Foxcroft for I one reason and one reason only. I could not refuse, had I the option, I would rather sit out an entire evening than be taken in by the likes of you."

Lord Foxcroft looked visibly angered by this statement but as this was not the place to show such an emotion, schooled his tempter, plastered on a pleasant smile and finish the cotillion they had started. When it ended Annabelle curtseyed slightly and walked away before further conversation could be had.

There was no end to the requests for her to dance and although her feet ached she was happy to once again be paired with Sir Lawrence.

"I find it odd, Lady Annabelle that it takes a presentation or a ball for someone like yourself to make a match."

"I have spent most of my life in the country, Sir Lawrence. 'Not the right sort,' according to my mother."

"And have you found anyone of interest here in Town?" he inquired.

"The Queen was right about you. You are presumptuous," Annabelle teased; this caused Sir Lawrence to laugh, making him the envy of every man in the room.

"But," he said conspiratorially, "I note you have not said, no."

Annabelle's features changed but in a flash of an eye, so quick it would have been imperceptible except to perhaps the eyes of a royal artist. "He means much to you."

"I fear I do not know what you mean," Annabelle said, feeling exposed.

"I understand perhaps more than you realize. I myself got entangled with two sisters. Both perfect but frail, when I had finally made my choice it had turned out to be too late. Upon her deathbed one sister made the other promise never to marry, never to see me again. I had lost them both."

Annabelle's heart broke for him. She knew this circumstance must be recent for the wound was still visibly raw. "Would you mind escorting me outside? I seem to need some air."

He knew she was doing this for his benefit. His sad sweet smile he smiled again. "Of course."

On the veranda he had taken a few deep breaths of the crisp night air. "Thank you, I certainly would not have wished to make spectacle of myself. I did not expect to get so emotional. It has been more than four years since Maria's death."

"What was the name of the other sister?"

"Sally," he said her name with such sadness. "I doubt I shall ever recover from losing her, but in hind sight, I guess it is no more than I deserve."

"How so?" Annabelle asked.

"I am an artist. I know love when I see it. I look for it in everything that I paint. So, I was fool to ever let it go."

"Lady Annabelle?" Annabelle gasped at the sound of his voice. She turned on the veranda to see Mr. Kane standing outside in the cold.

"They have refused me entrance but I beg of you... give me this one chance to plead my case."

Sir Lawrence took a protective stance in front of Lady Annabelle. "Shall I have him thrown out for you?"

She placed a hand on Sir Lawrence's shoulder. "The man you asked me about as we danced..." and she did not finish her sentence but looked over at Mr. Kane.

"I shall try to delay for you as long as I possibly can, but keep in mind it's a dangerous game you have decided to play. I hope you win."

Sir Lawrence made a move to walk away, but Annabelle stopped him with a word.

"Thomas?"

He turned that sad smile to her.

"Thank you!"

He nodded and entered the ballroom.

"A friend?" Cyril asked as he joined her, he did care for his jealous tone but it could not be helped.

Annabelle could not believe he was here standing before her. She ignored his question and smiled at him saying only, "I like your hat."