"What are you doing?" I asked, as Thomas pulled my waist closer to him, preparing for the waltz.

"Breaking the rules," he grinned, leaning down to add in a whisper, "Besides, it's only fair for you to make him as jealous as he's making you."

I couldn't help but look over towards Andrew and Ashley, the other debutante's triumphant smile fading now that I was in the other prince's arms. Her words about Thomas that I'd overheard last Season came rushing back and I resented her even more for winning Andrew's first dance. She didn't much care whom she married, so long as there was a crown on her head.

My view was interrupted as the male inductees flooded the floor. Xavier paused as he spotted me, his eyebrows so high they'd nearly met his hairline. He shot me a warning look before hurrying off to secure himself a partner.

"Please at least pretend to be happy," Thomas prodded, circling his thumb along my waist while we waited for the other debutantes to secure partners, "I know a good many women who would kill for my first dance."

"Then perhaps you should have asked one of them," I said, squirming away from his over-familiar touch, "I daresay they'd enjoy being fondled much more than I am."

"Hmm you certainly are in a foul mood," he said, "Or perhaps you do enjoy being fondled by me, but you're confused because you're enamoured with my brother."

"Really, Thomas, what are you doing?" I asked, meeting his eyes this time. His rakish grin was in place and he was taking far too much pleasure from my reaction to his words.

"I'm stirring up trouble while doing my little sister a favour," he said, shooting a look to where James had asked Anne for her first dance. It was my turn for my eyebrows to lift, staring at the two of them. Cousin Ella would not be pleased, not one bit.

"How does dancing with me serve as a favour to Anne?" I asked as the music started and Thomas whisked us into the graceful twirls of the waltz.

"Whoever said dancing with you was the favour?" he laughed, "Though I must say I'm disappointed, I'd have thought that the debutante who caught my brother's eye would be clever."

I rolled my eyes, looking away from him. Andrew's green eyes flashed as he waltzed past us, turning his head around to keep them on me. I couldn't help but wince as I looked away. Judging by the shock on his face, he hadn't expected Thomas to be dancing with me.

"I do so love being insulted," I said, hating the satisfaction I felt at the look on Andrew's face. I hadn't quite come to terms with the fact he'd asked Ashley, the girl I hated most of all. The rational part of my mind screamed that the choice hadn't belonged to him, so perhaps Ashley was the lesser evil of all his potential partners. Then again, I'd made it abundantly clear last Season that Ashley was abominable, especially given the conversation I'd overheard in the ladies' room.

Ashley had made no secret that she was simply after the crown, not the man. Her words had been what had spurred me to attend last Season's masquerade despite all that I stood to lose if anyone found out. I'd failed in warning Andrew and I realized with a jolt that since then, I had never really told him what I'd overhead her saying about him. I desperately hoped that him choosing her was simply because she was one of his mother's choices. But try as I might not to take it personally, I was thoroughly rankled by his choice.

"How fortunate, considering that I deal in insults," Thomas fired back, only to lean his head down towards my ear again. I couldn't help the goosebumps that rose from his breath on my bare skin.

"I was supposed to dance with whomever Andrew didn't choose from mother's list. By picking you, I've not only annoyed my brother, but my mother as well. In case you hadn't noticed, the most eligible man here has chosen to dance with Adelaide Winters since I'd left her partnerless. James has gone ahead and asked Anne to dance to save some face since Anne should have been the first debutante to secure a partner. Like the scum he is, Dorian approached Adelaide first," Thomas explained, as we waltzed past Adelaide and Dorian Fletcher. The peerless Lady Winters was wearing a forced smile, not even looking at her partner, while Dorian face was as smug as ever.

"Well that was foolish on his part," I said, "I'd think the men would be clamouring to dance with the princess!"

"Dorian is a special sort," Thomas said, his face twisting into an expression of distaste, "He doesn't much care for us and he's all too keen to remind us every now and then."

"Then I suppose it was kind of you to spare your sister from him," I said.

"Why thank you, although mother would disagree. She can't understand why we can't 'all just get along,'" Thomas said, "But I do believe you're still missing the point."

"Now I feel like you're trying to talk me in circles," I said, frowning. He chuckled.

"You have so much to learn about petty court gossip," he said, "It's a commodity that most people greatly undervalue."

"I'm not much one for gossip," I said. He shook his head, grinning.

"So innocent. No wonder Andrew likes you," Thomas said. At his mention of his brother, I cast my eyes around again, only for the pit in my stomach to swallow me whole. Ashley was smiling at him as Andrew laughed.

"Thank you for dancing with me," I said. Thomas followed my eyes, that troublemaking grin returning when he spotted Andrew.

"As I'd said, it's only right for you to pay him back in kind. I was adamant that he should've asked you," Thomas said as the music came to a close.

"He didn't have much of a choice," I muttered, curtseying in parting.

"He always has a choice," Thomas said, kissing the back of my gloved hand, "And now that I've gone and alerted mummy to your presence, perhaps he'll make the right one next time."

I stared at him as I rose, unwilling to look towards where the queen was sitting on her throne.

"Have you given any thought to my invitation?" he asked, as a group of debutantes milled around us, hoping for a dance with the younger prince.

"Not yet," was all I managed, my poor mind already overwhelmed as it was.

"Think on it then. And save me a dance later, will you?" Thomas said with a wink, "You're so much fun to tease."

He sauntered away, walking straight through the circle of assembled debutantes to bow before Mary Marquette. As I watched him, my traitorous eyes unwillingly turned up towards the dais.

The queen was watching me, her face unreadable. I dipped into a curtsey, which only caused her to purse her lips. A feeling of panic bubbled out of the pit in my stomach and I turned to make a dash for the refreshments table.

I hadn't even considered that Thomas dancing with me would draw the queen's attention. As much as I had no say in the matter since turning down a prince was not an option, I couldn't help the spark of anger that ignited within me. Thomas had gone and broken the very rule that Andrew hadn't dared to break for me, despite all that he'd said last night about missing me.

A seed of doubt took hold in my mind as I grappled with whether all our kisses and words in the little library had really meant what I'd thought they had. If Andrew cared for me that much, why wouldn't he just come out and tell his mother so? What was he waiting for?

I slowed my steps as my blood ran cold. What if he wasn't only doing it to appease his mother? What if the thing he was waiting for was to determine if I really was the person he wanted to marry? What if he really did want to dance with the others and he was simply using his mother as an excuse? Had our time apart created some invisible rift that was now slowly opening between us?

I forced myself to breathe, trying to beat down the treacherous thoughts. All he had done was dance with Ashley, something he had warned me would happen. He'd even assured me that if he'd had his own choice, that he would have danced with me. Besides, my prince wasn't the kind of person to go back on his word, not to me and not to his mother either. He was simply obeying so he didn't cause too much trouble.

How long do you think he'll take to propose?

Xavier's voice rang inside my head as colourful gowns swirled around me, the debutantes preparing for the next dance. That traitorous corner of my mind was persistently refusing to be hushed as it questioned why Andrew wasn't proposing right away.

What if he was only biding his time to make sure he wasn't making a mistake?

Suddenly the room felt very much like it was pressing in on me. I gathered my skirts as I prepared to run, heedless of appearances. I needed fresh air and to be away from the whirl of colours and cloying perfumes, my chest so constricted that it felt difficult to breathe. I bolted for the edge of the dance floor, dodging around debutantes and inductees, only to run smack into a black formal jacket.

"Forgive me!" Oliver Pendleton blurted, catching me before I staggered backwards. I looked up at him blankly, too lost in my own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to trample you!" he continued, smiling that horsey-toothed smile of his, "But I'm rather glad I did. I was hoping to ask you for a dance, Elizabeth, if I might?"

"Oliver-" I started, looking around for some way to turn him down. Across the floor, Xavier was smiling down at Georgina, but I only noticed them for a moment before I saw the back of a red jacket.

Andrew was walking in the opposite direction, only to stop and bow before Adelaide Winters. I swallowed, my ears starting to ring with all the vile, terrible thoughts in my head.

"Yes of course, let's dance," I said, seizing Oliver's hands before he could say another word. The music started for an allemande and I had to stifle my groan.

Of all the dances, the slow allemande was not the one I would have hoped for to calm my racing mind. A courante or even a polka would have forced me to focus on the count rather than the way the blood had drained from my fingers as Andrew took Adelaide into his arms.

Oliver chattered the dance away, which was both a blessing and a curse. He carried the conversation, regaling me with stories of his brother's marriage to Harriet Smith, while I smiled and nodded at all the right moments. However, left to it's own devices without a conversation to focus on, my mind ran away with itself.

If you look half as magnificent as you did at dinner tonight, I'll be hard pressed to remember to dance with anyone else...

I managed a glance down at my dress, one of the beautiful Parisian concoctions Andrew had so graciously funded. I was more that certain I looked as magnificent as I had at last night's dinner, so why was Andrew not asking me for his second dance? Was he angry now that I'd danced with Thomas?

"...Adelaide Winters, you know. She made such a lovely maid of honour," Oliver was saying. At the mention of the debutante currently exchanging smiles with my prince, I snapped out of my whirlwind of negative thoughts.

"Adelaide Winters?" I blurted out, interrupting him.

"Why yes, apparently she's of some relation to Harriet," he explained, "Though I always thought it was custom to select more homely bridesmaids in order to make the bride look magnificent in comparison. Harriet was beautiful enough in her gown, but Adelaide was...well, I'm sure you've met her."

"I have," I managed through gritted teeth.

"But well done on winning Prince Thomas' first dance. You should have heard the titters! everyone thought it would be Lady Winters," Oliver said. I couldn't decide whether to smile or scowl so I settled for a nod.

"Thank you," I said, willing the dance to end.

"Oh dear, I fear I've offended you," Oliver said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me more about your brother's wedding," I said, wanting more than anything to be stuffing my face full of food instead of stuck in a tedious conversation with the tempest of thoughts raging in my head.

Oliver was all to happy to oblige, nattering on until the music finally came to a close. I'd curtseyed to him, still undecided as to whether I would make a dash for the food or towards Andrew.

I couldn't stand another second of the doubt that was slowly creeping its way into the depths of my head, so I'd turned on my heel and barely taken a step when the coronets blew another royal hail. The music stopped as the hall hushed, the king and queen rising from their thrones. I swivelled back around as all eyes turned towards where the herald had cleared his throat.

My heart sank as a dark haired beauty of a girl emerged at the top of the stairs the debutantes had used to descend to the ballroom. A glittering golden tiara sat atop her curls, her deep ruby dress complimenting her olive skin.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Dulciana of Ardalone," the herald called. All the ball guests save for the royals sank into reverences as the princess descended the stairs, the picture of grace and elegance.

I swore so colourfully under my breath that Oliver nearly toppled over beside me. Still sunk into my curtsey, I risked a glance backwards towards Andrew, my eyes landing on Adelaide first. The willowy blonde did not appear pleased, her blue eyes hard as she stared up at the princess. Beside her, Andrew's face was set in the stony, unreadable expression of a king. His chest rose and fell briefly with a sigh before he strode across the ballroom floor. As Princess Dulciana descended the final step, Andrew bowed before her, taking her gloved hand to kiss it in greeting before the rest of the ballroom rose from their reverences.

I couldn't quite bring myself to rise along with them, the urge to run, cry, scream, or strike something utterly overwhelming me.