As a reward for my seemingly excellent behaviour, excesses of champagne aside, Ella decreed that I would be permitted to attend the cotillion that evening. All the nobles in high ranking military positions would be in attendance in their full dress uniforms to commemorate the victory of some battle or another. Frankly I didn't much care to attend, especially since I had yet to sit down and properly digest the day's events. Thoughts of the magnificent ball gown that Audra had hidden away in her workshop for the masquerade next week kept popping to the forefront of my mind, only for me to squelch them with James' words from the painting gallery.

"I still can't believe Harriet was the first to catch a husband," Emily was saying to Ella as we made our descent towards the entrance hall.

"I suppose most of the others are still holding out hope for the prince," Rosanna said sagely. I remained silent, wishing that our conversation didn't have to revolve around the prince tonight. Every time I heard his name I couldn't help but feel massively conflicted as I thought of the blue gown he'd ordered for me, only for my cruel brain to replay the image of Ashley grinning up at him in the garden.

"I think it wiser to get to know a man before getting engaged," Ella said haughtily, Emily and Rosanna vehemently agreeing with her while I fought from rolling my eyes. I had no patience left for my cousin's airs.

Ella had insisted upon not one, but three wardrobe changes before we made our descent into the ballroom, so we arrived later than all the other debutantes. The ballroom was filled with uniformed and decorated men, the deep blue of the royal cavalry interspersed with the bright whites of the navy and the shining black of the army. Medals glinted and epaulets shone as the men socialized and danced. I realized as I took stock of the room that my attendance was probably solely necessary because there were so many men and relatively few other noblewomen in attendance, besides the debutantes and the wives of the older officers.

"Good evening, Ella," James Amberly said, approaching us with a smile. Emily and Rosanna dropped curtseys as James reached for Ella's gloved hand, bringing it to his lips. I sank into my own reverence, studiously ignoring Lord Amberly's gaze. Hearing his voice again was yet another reminder of the words that had haunted me since that day in the gallery. Thankfully, he invited Ella to dance, leaving the three of us ladies-in-waiting alone. Deciding that I'd had about enough of Emily and Rosanna's titters about how advantageous a match James was for Ella, I stalked away from them in pursuit of food.

Heedless of Rosanna's hissed directive to come back, I wove through the crowd towards the banquet tables. I felt utterly exhausted after the day's events and I intended to hide in a corner with a massive plate of food while I counted down the seconds until I could crawl into bed. Unfortunately, the ballroom was packed and lively that night, laughter and chatter filling the air through the music. It had taken me nearly twice as long as usual to cross the room towards the banquet tables, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. I had very nearly made it when someone cleared their throat, bowing before me.

"Good evening, Elizabeth," Oliver Pendleton was saying, grinning down at me while I stared over his shoulder longingly at the buffet table loaded with steaming trays of food.

"Good evening, Oliver," I said, forcing my face into whatever approximation of a smile I could manage.

"I was hoping to ask you for a dance?" he said, offering me his arm. I blinked at it, my smile still frozen in place.

"Yes of course," I managed, through gritted teeth. He was grinning like a fool as he led me to the dance floor, launching into a long-winded monologue about Martin's engagement and how he would now be free to take his brother's place as a participant in the Season.

All I could hear was droning as I danced, counting down the seconds until I could disentangle myself from the overeager Oliver and go eat something to ease my tense nerves. Oliver was blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, my smile still in place as a I hummed and nodded, mustering what enthusiasm I could to congratulate him for his brother's engagement and for having earned Martin's now vacant spot in the Season.

When the dance finally came to a close, I sank into a curtsey with an excuse ready on my lips. But I didn't have to use it since the coronets had blared and drawn us all to attention. The king had risen from his throne, clearing his throat. I was trapped in the middle of the dance floor as all eyes turned towards the monarch.

"We wish to dedicate this next dance to Martin Pendleton and his bride-to-be, Lady Harriet Smith!" the king said, clapping his hands to draw a round of applause.

"Oh not this again," Oliver groaned next to me, "He'll think even more highly of himself now that the king has gone and acknowledged him,"

"I need to...go," I mumbled, as Martin and Harriet appeared at the center of the dance floor, lining up for a waltz. I didn't wait for Oliver's reply before I ducked away and beelined across the dance floor towards the food. I was attempting to get around an overly done up older woman's opulent dress when I came to a full halt. As the older woman moved out of the way, a familiar red jacket appeared through a space in the crowd.

Andrew was staring straight at me, seemingly oblivious to the wall of debutantes that separated us, each of them simpering and giggling at him, hoping to draw his attention. It seemed that the king's reminder of Harriet's engagement had renewed their fervour in their pursuit of the prince.

I swallowed as Andrew mumbled something to Sarah, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder so he could move around her and towards me. I took a step backwards to turn and dash in the other direction, only to run smack into another uniformed chest.

"A dance, Elizabeth?"

James had caught my fingers and landed his hand on my waist before I could say no. The music started up and I realized that I was trapped. My stomach growled in protest as I forced myself not to scowl.

"You seem to be in a hurry somewhere," James muttered to me. But he wasn't looking at me, rather he was shaking his head over my shoulder in Andrew's direction.

"Ella is going to be furious with me for dancing with you," I said, firing back at him.

"Ella is already aware that I intend on doing each of her ladies-in-waiting the honour of dancing with them tonight. Even you should know it's hardly proper for your cousin to spend her entire evening dancing with me, which is why I need to dance with at least a few other women for appearance's sake," James said. I wanted to make a face at him for throwing ballroom etiquette at me, but I refrained for I knew it would only encourage his lecturing.

"How very thoughtful of you," I muttered.

"Speaking of thoughts, have you given any to our last proper conversation?" he said as we started twirling. The knot seized up in my stomach again.

"I have," I said, hoping he would leave it at that. He didn't.

"And what have you decided?" he persisted.

I had no idea what I'd decided. Every time I thought about Andrew and the library and the ball gown, my face wanted to split into a grin as my stomach set to twirling. But riding on the coattails of such happy thoughts were James' ominous warnings about Andrew's fate if he didn't choose a debutante. Visions of Ashley simpering up at Andrew turned my twirling stomach into a mess of knots. He didn't deserve to be saddled with a wretched woman like her because I was too selfish to leave him alone to make his own decision. The right choice seemed obvious enough when I considered the potential consequences of an arranged marriage for the prince, but every time I thought of never speaking to him again, the knots in my stomach twisted even tighter in despair.

James courteously allowed me the majority of the waltz to think, only clearing his throat as the music began to rise to its final crescendo.

"I'll leave him alone," I said weakly, doing everything I could to focus on the count of the dance and not the overwhelming feeling of nausea swimming through my head.

"I'm glad you finally understand," James said, sighing with relief, "I know he cares for you too Libby, but surely you care enough for him to not doom him to be saddled with someone of his parents' choosing. He deserves to have a choice in who he spends his life with and now he'll be able to see that he really does belong with a debutante,"

I hated my eyes for looking over to where James had nodded. Andrew was waltzing by with Sarah Thornbury, a radiant smile on her beautiful face as they sailed past us. I swallowed back the lump in my throat as the music came to an end.

"Thank you for the dance," was all I managed, before I turned on my heel and rushed towards the ladies resting room.