No one could claim that Ravenscroft's ball wasn't a great success. Everyone invited appeared to be having a wonderful time, and the host's friends from London mingled with the local townspeople without incident. The dancing was merry, the discourse suitably light, and the refreshments just sweet enough. In Ivy's opinion, there was only one thing missing, and she was beginning to think he might not show up.

Leaving her sisters, who were all in a cheerful mood after having been asked to dance more than once, she stepped out on the terrace to get away from the crowded ballroom for a moment. The late summer evening was balmy but offered a light breeze. A carefully curated garden stretched out before her, with trimmed hedges and cultivated flowerbeds. She wished she could have gone for a walk to explore it, but alone at night didn't seem like an appropriate time. Despite torches placed at regular intervals between the hedges, there were still plenty of areas left dark.

There were definitely people out there. She leaned against the terrace railing and tried to listen, but couldn't tell one voice from another.

"I would not go out there."

She startled at the dark voice behind her. When she turned, the Marquess of Richmond pushed away from the wall. She had only exchanged a few words with him indoors, but her friend's note about his rudeness made her feel somewhat wary of his presence. If anyone were to look down on the country bumpkins, it would be the man who was to inherit a dukedom one day.

"I can hear others," she said as the marquess came to stand next to her by the railing.

"Indeed," he agreed. "But it is a risky thing to venture into the dark with a potential suitor. It is better to remain where you can be seen at all times, so no one can claim you have done anything improper."

She grinned. "I would have gone alone. No suitors here."

The tall man glanced at her, and she had to admit he was quite good-looking despite his severe demeanour. Classically handsome with thick, dark hair and striking blue eyes.

"That's possibly worse," he said, and she almost could have sworn she heard a thread of wry amusement in his tone.

Deciding to change the subject, she motioned vaguely towards the ballroom with a hand. "How are you enjoying Tilbury, my lord?"

He appeared to consider her question for a moment, and she almost thought he might not answer, when he finally said, "It's pleasant enough, I suppose. In truth, I have seen little of the village itself, having nary left the estate. There appears to be an abundance of unmarried young ladies."

"Yes, if one is in search of a wife, Tilbury is the place to be." Ivy tried to keep her face impassive, but she wasn't certain she could keep the mirth from showing. Not that the serious marquess appeared to enjoy her humour.

"As long as one does not care about the disparity in standing, I suppose," he said with a nod.

Every trace of mirth immediately dispersed as Ivy stiffened. Alice had been correct. The man was rather blunt.

"Not everyone does."

"Perhaps they should." His blue eyes met hers, and he didn't look as if he meant to offend, but that did not take the sting out of his words. "The ton can be vicious when it senses that someone does not belong. It would be cruel to bring someone into it who is not equipped to handle the gossip and rumours."

"If you love someone, surely you would do anything to be with them?" Her fingers gripped the handle of her fan a little tighter than necessary, and she wondered how the marquess would feel about being jabbed in the gut with it. She'd done it to her brother on several occasions, and it was a perfect way to win an argument.

"I would not know," the marquess admitted. "Love is something which still eludes me."

Without thinking, Ivy put a gloved hand on the sleeve of his black evening jacket. "I'm sure you will find the right lady one day."

He stared at the white glove on his sleeve, and she realised with horror how incredibly forward she was being. Quickly, she pulled her hand back. The corners of the marquess's mouth twitched.

"Thank you," he finally said.

They were both silent for a moment. Ivy shifted from one foot to the other, feeling rather awkward. Why would he not go back inside?

"Oh, there you are!" Nell came through the open terrace doors. She was beautiful in a white and green ballgown that matched her green eyes, and her strawberry blonde hair piled high on her head. When she caught sight of the marquess, she stopped and quickly curtsied. "Pardon, I did not see you at first, my lord."

"Do not apologise. I shall return inside." The marquess sketched a quick bow before disappearing through the doors Nell had vacated.

Coming over to Ivy, Nell looked after his receding form. "Well," she said under her breath. "He's rather handsome, is he not?"

"He is," Ivy agreed. "But rather disagreeable."

"Shame." Nell grinned widely. "But it matters little when there are several other handsome single men in attendance."

"Are you having a good time?" Ivy asked as she linked her arm with her friend's and they made their way back inside.

"A splendid time! I'm intending to make the best of it since I suspect my father will eventually find someone he wishes me to marry."

"Wouldn't you want to choose for yourself?"

"Of course." Nell shrugged. "But I have no dowry to speak of, so my prospects are not great. I'm resigned to marrying whoever my father decides on. For now, though, I will enjoy dancing with any handsome single man who will have me."

She giggled, and the sound was so contagious that Ivy joined in, and her spirits lifted. It didn't matter if Sam showed up or not. She had her friends, and they were wonderful.

Even so, her heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of Sam's wide shoulders and windswept dark auburn hair across the room. He'd come after all. She had to stop herself from seeking him out. It simply wasn't appropriate, especially as he currently stood talking to Dash and Ravenscroft.

"Oh yes," Nell said next to her. "I came to find you to let you know Mr Hemsworth has arrived."

Ivy smiled wryly. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes, but it's rather sweet how every emotion is written across your face."

"I'm not sure I agree." Could everyone see what she was thinking? She wasn't sure she liked that possibility, but then, she could never affect the detached demeanour of the women in the novels she read. Deciding to change the subject, she steered them towards the refreshment table. "Come, let's get some punch."

A short while later, she was sipping her drink while watching some of her friends on the dance floor and tapping her foot along with the beat. She heard Sam's walking stick against the floor a moment before he came up next to her.

"Miss Edwards," he said with a polite nod, but the warmth in his eyes created a mirroring one in her.

"Mr Hemsworth." She smiled and bobbed a curtsy. "How are you enjoying your evening?"

"Better now that I have finally made my way to your side."

Her cheeks heated, and her smile deepened. "You are not usually one to throw compliments around. Is the festive mood loosening your tongue?"

She gulped in a breath when he leaned in closer—indecently close if anyone were to pay them too much attention—to whisper in her ear, "It's simply that I have not been able to stop thinking about you since our last meeting."

The heat of the blush spread from her face down across the rest of her body. She had not been able to stop thinking about it either. Those delicious sensations when he had kissed her and held her close against his body. Sam straightened again, and she had to look away from the fire in his eyes or she might suddenly find herself clinging to his tall frame right there. Now, that would be a scandal.

Turning to look out over the dancing couples, Sam was silent for a moment before saying, "As much as I would like to ask you to dance, it's simply not something I can do these days, but I hoped perhaps you might join me for a walk in the garden."

"That is interesting," she said lightly, "because the Marquess of Richmond was only just warning me from venturing into the gardens. He implied it could be bad for one's reputation."

Sam's mouth twitched. "He is not wrong, but sometimes doing what you're not meant to can be quite exciting. I don't believe Richmond has ever done anything exciting or inappropriate in his life."

"That does sound rather boring."

"Indeed." He glanced at her. "Would you like to be daring with me, Miss Edwards?"

She held back what threatened to be a wide grin. "Very much so."

"Meet me on the terrace in a couple of minutes." He sketched a quick bow before walking away, and she watched his retreating form for a moment before looking back out over the dance floor.

The thought of stealing a private moment with him outside, away from prying eyes, filled her with anticipation. She finished her drink, and once she'd made sure her friends and family were all occupied elsewhere and would not be looking for her, she made her way towards the terrace.

As she stepped outside, she found Sam waiting for her, leaning against the stone railing. The light of the moon cast shadows across his face, accentuating the strong lines, and the hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. He pushed away from the railing and offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"

They strolled through the garden with its beautifully manicured lawn and tall hedges; the torches lighting their way. Now and then, she could have sworn she heard voices from the darker areas beyond the reach of light, but she didn't deny anyone else the privacy of a moment alone. She stole a glance at Sam, admiring his tall form and handsome face. By now, she barely registered his slightly uneven gait or the walking stick he often used. If anything, they were a testament to his resilience and indomitable spirit.

"I'm glad I got to see you tonight," he said. "I have to return to London tomorrow."

An icy wave of disappointment washed over her. "So soon? I thought you might stay a little longer."

"I thought so too, but something has come up which requires my immediate attention."

She stared straight ahead as they kept walking, wondering what that might be. Since he didn't share any further details, she didn't want to pry. Well, no. She did want to pry, but she wouldn't.

They walked in silence for a few moments until they came upon a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by fragrant blooms and the gentle rustling of leaves. Away from the burning torches, moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a magical glow over their surroundings. It would have been the perfect spot for a romantic confession, had Sam not just told her he was leaving the very next day.

She'd known he wasn't staying. Known he was not for her. And yet, she couldn't keep the disappointment at bay. She had thought they would at least have a few more days together.

"Ivy." Sam's soft voice brought her out of her meandering thoughts.

"I can't believe you're leaving," she whispered, slipping her arm away from his and taking a step away.

"If it helps at all, I do not want to." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "When I came here, I never thought I would..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "I never thought I would meet someone like you. Someone I cannot stop thinking about. It's... It's inconvenient, to tell you the truth, but I cannot fight it."

She frowned. "Is that meant to be a confession of some sort? Because it's not a very good one."

He let out a surprised laugh. "No. No, I mean..." Taking her gloved hand in one of his, he lifted it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I do have to leave tomorrow, but I was hoping to return soon. And that you might allow me to call on you when I do."

Her heart fluttered in her chest. "I... Of course."

"I would very much like to get to know you better." He still held onto her hand, gripping it a little tighter. "I know I'm probably not what your family wants for you—"

Her laughter interrupted him. "Sam," she said with a grin. "I think my family would be quite happy to get me off their hands to any man. You've seen the lack of suitable single men in the area."

"I know, but..." He sighed. "I'm not just a working man, I'm a bastard. My father is a viscount, but I do not belong in that world. Could never belong in that world. Its doors are closed to me."

"Other than Ravenscroft, I have little to no contact with the peerage. My father is a country gentleman, but only for the past twenty years or so. He was once a working man, too. We can hardly claim to be better than anyone else." She put her free hand against his chest. "I'm sorry you feel this way. You may not belong in the ballrooms of London, but neither do I. And it doesn't make us worth any less."

Dropping her hand to cup her face, he smiled gently. "Have I told you recently how wonderful you are?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Why don't you tell me again?"

His gaze dropped to her lips. "I'd rather show you..."

A moment later, his mouth brushed against hers in a gentle kiss that made her ache for more. Without meaning to, she leaned forward, seeking his touch. Sam kissed her again, his lips lingering against hers. The hand on her cheek twitched as if it craved to explore further, but he pulled back.

"We should probably return to the ball," he whispered. "I do not trust myself with you. Leaving you at the lake yesterday was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"I don't mind." Apparently, she had no problems being the brazen bluestocking she had suggested her friend become.

Sam smiled. "Trust me, I would love to stay here and do many wicked things to you. But it is far too risky."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed dramatically. "Fine. We will return to the ball."

He laughed quietly and gave her another quick kiss. "God, you're amazing." He offered her his arm again. "Come."

Looping her hand around the crook of his arm, they began the leisurely walk back towards the manor house.

"Where did you grow up?" she asked, wanting to know more about him and his past.

"In a village not unlike Tilbury. My father's estate lies two miles outside. Unfortunately, everyone knew who I was—what I was—so my memories of the village are not as fond as those of Tilbury. Everyone here seems so kind in comparison."

Compassion for the young boy he had been once welled up inside of her and she squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry you had to grow up like that. Tilbury might be a little dull, but you are correct that everyone here is kind. They all put up with me and my antics. And Darcy. The two of us together are more than one could reasonably expect anyone to put up with."

"I'm quite fond of both of you."

Sam's confession warmed her heart, and she couldn't hold back a grin. She would miss him when he left for London, but hopefully, he would return soon. The sooner the better, because she was determined to get a better kiss than the chaste ones he had given her tonight.

"Will you be back soon?" she asked.

"As soon as I can manage," he promised, but there was a note in his voice she couldn't quite place. Like there was something he wasn't telling her. Before she could question him, they were back at the terrace and he nodded towards the open doors. "You had better go back inside and find your family before anyone wonders where you've gone."

He placed his hand on hers, holding it tight for a moment before placing another kiss against her knuckles. She moved towards the doors but looked back once before stepping inside. Sam was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face, and she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong. That something would never quite be the same. But it was a silly notion.

Nothing terrible ever happened in Tilbury.

~~~~~~