Winterbourne Hall, England
December 10, 1818

As Ivy stared at the snow-covered grounds of the massive lawns of the Duke of Winterbourne's estate, she couldn't quite believe how much her life had changed in the last few months. If someone had asked her even six months ago if she ever thought she'd attend a ball hosted by a duke, she would have laughed in their face. And yet, here she was. Attending the biggest event of the winter season: an entire week of entertainment at the Winterbournes'. Invitations to the event were highly sought after, and even her new parents were shocked when she was invited.

So was she. Though she probably shouldn't be since the Duchess of Winterbourne was one of Olivia's best friends outside of the bluestockings, and Ivy suspected Olivia had asked for the extra invitation. Lady Wycliffe—she still could not quite bring herself to call her mother—had been ecstatic. This would serve as a soft launch before the London season in a few more months.

The idea of a London season was both intriguing and terrifying, so Ivy was rather relieved about this quieter start. If one could call it that. The Winterbournes' Winter Ball was the busiest event out of the season. It was far beyond any of the small get-togethers the Wycliffes had taken her to so far. Out of the new experiences, the opera was amazing. Dress shopping on Bond Street had been exciting for a few minutes until she realised she had to stand still while measurements were taken. Back home, she had mostly inherited her older sisters' dresses and had rarely had to be measured beyond a quick check to see if anything had to be let out—they usually did, she was far bustier and with wider hips than her siblings.

A knock on the door broke her out of her reverie, and a moment later, Olivia entered. Her friend was dressed in a beautiful white ballgown with a plum bodice, and her sable hair was pulled back in an intricate hairdo.

"Are you ready?" Olivia asked with a smile. "This ball will be a little bigger than Ravenscroft's in the summer."

Ivy nervously ran her gloved hands over the skirts of her new gown. It was the finest piece of clothing she'd ever owned. A creation of soft satin and white lace, with a blue bodice embroidered with fanciful flowers. Matching silk flowers sat in a silk band at the top of her head.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She grabbed a blue shawl in the same shade as her bodice and wrapped it around her upper arms. "I'm so grateful your mother agreed to be my chaperone. Lady Wycliffe is lovely, but she gets so excited about my potential success that it can be quite exhausting."

The corners of Olivia's mouth twitched as if she was suppressing a laugh. "Oh? She gets excited about things? Do we know anyone else like that?"

With a groan, Ivy rolled her eyes and shoved her friend out the door before linking arms and following her down the hallway. "You need not continue to point out the likeness between me and Lady Wycliffe. I am not blind," she muttered.

Olivia grinned. "Sorry. It's just amazing to see how similar you are."

After a life of being the odd one out, sharing little resemblance with her siblings, Ivy had to admit it was a novel experience to find someone so much like herself. After spending more time with the Wycliffes, her heart had softened towards them. They had no plans of taking her away from the family she'd known her whole life, they just wanted some small part of her time, and she could appreciate that. While they were brand new in her life, she had been a living dream in theirs for years. The child they had lost. An age of dreams of what might have been.

A familiar ache in the region of her heart reminded her of her own dreams of what might have been. Dreams shattered when she realised Sam cared more for money than her. But she was not thinking about Sam. Definitely not. She had promised herself she would stop. Even if she thought she saw his face during events in London, only to realise it was nothing but an illusion.

They reached the grand ballroom and her jaw dropped. Olivia had not lied when she said Ravenscroft's ball was nothing compared to this one. The room was bigger than any she had ever visited, with large windows facing the terrace and gardens outside. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, filled with what must be hundreds of candles. Rich, red fabrics decorated the tables, punctuated by arrangements of ivy or holly.

Olivia squeezed her arm next to her. "I hear there's even a mistletoe hidden somewhere, but I doubt that's true. It would be quite scandalous."

"It's not like my brother needs an excuse to kiss his wife." Dash appeared before them, a wry grin on his lips. He winked. "But I may have hidden one."

"Where?" The question slipped out before Ivy could stop herself, and she prayed her cheeks weren't as pink as they felt.

Dash only chuckled. "Well, what's the fun in telling you? Do you have a gentleman you'd like to drag off for a kiss?"

None that would be in attendance tonight. Nor was truly interested in her. Keeping her mouth shut, Ivy stared down at the marble floor. She'd met Dash quite a few times over the last few months since he often attended the same events she did. As she got to know him better, she could understand her friend's infatuation with him. He was a charming scoundrel who was always close to a smile. It was no wonder he was so popular among the ladies. But he was also showing no inclination to find a wife and settle down.

"Must you remind her?" Olivia chastened Dash, hitting him on the arm.

"Nothing to mend a broken heart like finding someone else to fill that spot," Dash mused, then grinned widely. "Or several someone's."

Olivia groaned. "You needn't tell us of your rakish ways. We know."

"But what is the fun if I cannot share my exploits with my friends?"

"Maybe limit it to your male friends," Olivia suggested pertly, making him chuckle.

"Come, ladies." He offered them an arm each. "Let's make the rounds."

Despite her nervousness, Ivy enjoyed her evening, and Lady Newton was not an overly watchful chaperone, trusting them not to do anything scandalous. After dancing two sets and conversing with more people than she could remember the names of, she found herself needing a moment away from the buzz of the crowd. It was all getting a bit much with the need to pay attention to what everyone said and remember not to interrupt. Some time away from the constant noise and heavy odours of women's perfumes would hopefully help her stave off the headache she could feel coming on.

Mumbling an excuse to Olivia, who was currently busy being courted by two men who would not leave her side, Ivy slipped out of the ballroom and ambled down the winding hallways of the large house. The noise of the ballroom lowered to a quiet hum in the background as she wound her way further and further away, discovering different rooms. She felt like an explorer in one of her adventure books, only she was not in some faraway land, but in the equally foreign world of the upper class of society. A world she had never had access to before now.

Winterbourne Hall was as different to Orchard Cottage as any exotic jungle with its marble floors and expensive furnishings. The judging eyes of Winterbourne ancestors stared down at her from the walls in a portrait gallery, probably wondering what a country bumpkin like her was doing wandering their sacred halls. She stuck her tongue out at one particularly disapproving-looking painting before continuing her explorations.

Not much later, she found what must be the best room on the estate: the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls, and the musty smell of books calmed her like nothing else as she stepped inside. On the opposite side of the room, large windows overlooked the grounds, and it took her a moment to realise someone was sitting in one of the large armchairs with a book in their lap. Between the fire in the grate and the candle on the table next to them, it made their hair glow like dark auburn, and there was a tug on her heart as she imagined Sam. She kept seeing him everywhere. In every man with dark auburn hair, every broad back before they turned around.

She was about to leave the reader alone when he raised his head and their gazes locked. Her feet froze to the ground and her breath caught in her throat.

The man stood, and the book fell to the floor with a thump. "Ivy?"

She swallowed past the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. "Sam? What are you doing here? Are you attending the ball?"

A wry smile touched his lips. "No. That is not my world. I'm..." He hesitated for a moment, before continuing, "I'm here for work."

Even though she knew she ought to return to the ball, she ventured further into the room. Sam remained where he was, his hand resting lightly on the table next to him. Seeing him again was... She wasn't sure. Painful? But there was something else mixed with the pain. She'd missed him. Despite how much his betrayal had hurt her, she'd missed him and part of her had hoped to see him again, even if only for a minute. And there was anger. Outrage at how he could have thrown away what they had. Or at least what she had believed they had.

Watching her warily as she approached, Sam dragged a hand through his unruly hair, mussing it up even further. He was as handsome as ever, but he looked tired. Worn. Whatever case he was currently working on must be an exhausting one.

"How is your family?" he asked politely, and something about the polished civility brushed her the wrong way.

"Which one?" she asked, a hard edge sneaking into her voice. "My old one or new one?"

He had the good sense to blush at that. "Either," he muttered. "But mostly I was wondering about the Edwards."

"They are well, thank you. My sisters are a little jealous about me suddenly attending all these events." She waved her hand as if to indicate their current surroundings. "While Ash mostly jokes that he's happy to be rid of me."

The shadow of a smile passed over Sam's face. "I hope you're enjoying this new part of your life. I know you said you wanted to see something beyond Tilbury."

Not like this. She pushed the thought away. Didn't want to remember her naive dreams of leaving Tilbury with him. Shrugging, she forced a bland smile. "It's... definitely a change. I'm not sure how well I fit in, but it's interesting. That said, the idea of the London season is rather terrifying."

"You will do great," he promised. "Anyone who doesn't see how amazing you are doesn't deserve to be near you."

The kind words sparked the anger brewing inside her. How dare he speak so well of her when he had chosen money over her?

"I'm surprised you're still working," she said. "When the Edwards took me in, they were given a small estate and a yearly stipend. Surely you should have been offered a decent deal for staying away."

His brows knotted as she spoke, and by the time she finished, he was shaking his head. "I don't... What do you mean?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, she wrapped her arms around herself like a shield. "I know about the money Lord Wycliffe offered you. Whatever the sum, it was apparently bigger than your feelings for me."

Sam let out a sound of disbelief. "Hell, Ivy... I—" He shook his head again. "That's not... I mean, yes. I won't lie to you. Lord Wycliffe did offer to pay me to leave you alone."

"And you were only too happy to comply."

A frown crept upon his face. "And you sent me a message and told me not to return. That we could never be equals."

They stared at each other for a moment, and despite her anger, she was struck by the urge to lean forward and kiss him. Despite everything, she still wanted him. Desperately. How pathetic was she to want a man who had chosen money above her?

"You say that as if you ever wanted me and I wasn't just another case for you," she snapped, the fragile grip on her anger slipping further.

Sam cursed, and before she knew what happened, he took the steps separating them and pulled her into his arms. His mouth crashed into hers, instantly igniting the desire burning as hotly as her ire. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she clung to him like a woman caught in a vortex as anger and passion fuelled her motions. When Sam's tongue slipped across her lips, she moaned and pushed herself closer against him. Somehow the flames only seemed to be fanned by her heightened emotions, and she soon lost herself in their embrace.

Finally, Sam pulled back slightly, but his arms remained around her waist. Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed heavily.

"Hell, Ivy." It was barely more than a whisper, his voice hoarse. "Do you not know how much I want you? How desperately I wish I could be with you?"

His confession tugged at her heartstrings. He sounded sincere and she wanted to believe him.

"What of the money?" she asked quietly.

Letting go of her, he took a step back, and she suddenly felt cold without his arms around her. With a sigh, he dragged his hand through his hair again, his gaze avoiding hers. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. We cannot be together."

"Why?" She swallowed back her emotions, unsure whether it was anger or hurt.

"Because this..." He threw his arm out to indicate their present surroundings similar to how she had done earlier. "This is your world now. And I have no place in it."

"So you chose to be paid off rather than fight for me. For us."

"You told me to stay away!" He looked nearly as shocked at his outburst as she was, and drew in a deep breath.

"Because I was hurt. You let me believe you might come for me after my season, all the while you knew you would not. Your mind was already made up."

He didn't need to reply. She could see the truth in his hazel eyes. Angry for having allowed herself to believe even for a moment that he would actually choose her over anything else, she turned on her heel and left the library. Sam could go to hell. But even the simmering anger wasn't enough to drown out the pain of his unwillingness to fight for her. Damn him. So much for not thinking about him anymore.

~~~~~~