Money.

Men had the money and women did not. Nor did most women have a way to accumulate any. So, unless they were born an heiress, they had to count on their looks. And at five and twenty, the bloom was nearly off the rose for her. She had nothing to offer a husband except her intelligence and wit — neither a commodity most men looked for in a wife.

“Harry has finally returned from the gaming room,” Grace said. “Would you mind if I went to speak with him?”

“Of course not. Go to your husband.”

“Thank you, cousin. I shall return promptly.” Grace walked away, her blue silk swishing about her ankles.

Tessa sipped her wine and wondered how much longer Grace and Harry would want to remain at the ball. They had only accepted the invitation in order to get Tessa back out on the marriage market. Obviously, marriage would be a slow process.

“Lady Townson, how lovely to see you again. How are you?”

Tessa blinked and noticed the man beside her. “I am very well, Mr Harrington. And you?”

Harrington smiled in such a manner she thought he meant to devour her. “I am very well now. Would you care to dance?”

She bit her lip for a moment. Harrington had been a rake when she’d been out before, was he still the same? Without Grace, Tessa had no one from whom to seek guidance. Her gaze slipped to the dancers twirling across the floor in a parade of coloured silk. A pang of sadness flitted through her. It had been so long since she danced at a ball. “I would love to dance with you, Mr Harrington.”

“Excellent.” He held out his arm for her to take.

As they walked towards the dance floor, she studied him. Nearing thirty now, the past few years had been more than kind to him. His blond hair was still thick, with a touch of curl to it. His blue eyes sparkled like sapphires when he smiled, which he was doing right now. With his chiselled jaw, he was every woman’s fantasy … except hers.

Even now, she continued to dream of a man with black hair and light-green eyes. Perhaps it was true that people never forget their first love. Or maybe he was the only man she had been meant to love.

“I do believe a waltz is next. Are you still willing to dance with me?”

The last time she’d been out the waltz was a scandalous dance that only a few hostesses would allow at their balls. Grace had told her that it had become more acceptable, but still Tessa hesitated. She’d spent the past two months relearning all the dances she’d forgotten since her marriage and the waltz was one of them. “Yes, Mr Harrington.”

His smile turned almost devious. “I see your tendency towards scandalous activities hasn’t changed over time.”

She stiffened.

“Don’t be upset with me,” he whispered near her ear. “I always liked that about you. In fact, I was hoping to speak with you about a proposition that might suit us both.”

“Oh?”

Harrington laughed softly. “Don’t sound so prudish, Lady Townson. Being a widow gives you much more opportunity for pleasure than marriage to an old lord did. I can show you what it’s like to be with a real man. A strong virile man.”

Tessa blinked back the tears that blinded her. “I believe I have changed my mind about the dance, Mr Harrington. Good evening.”

She turned and left before he could say another disgusting word. How dare he just assume she would be interested in a lascivious affair because she was now a widow! Looking about the room, she tried to find Grace or Harry, to no avail. Where could they have gone? She backed herself up against a pillar and snatched a glass of wine from a passing footman. After a quick sip, she stared across the room.

“Still running away from men, I see.”

Tessa turned to face the one woman who had never caused her anything but grief. “Good evening, Georgiana. Lovely to see you again.”

“Am I to assume you are here to find your next victim … I mean, husband?”

“Yes, it was so enjoyable five years ago to win the love of the man you had hoped to marry. Shall we do it again this year?” Tessa plastered a smug grin on her face.

“Oh, but you didn’t really win that competition, did you?”

Before she could think of a witty reply, Georgiana turned and walked away towards the refreshment table. That woman had been a thorn in Tessa’s side all during her two seasons out. Georgiana had made it her mission to stop Garrett courting her, but Garrett and Tessa had seen right through Georgiana’s tricks. Tessa sighed and returned her attention to the ball.

A flash of black caught her eye. She watched the man as he walked towards the refreshment table. She was only able to see his black hair, but her heart pounded against her chest.

For a quick moment she thought it was he. But that was inconceivable. He’d been dead for almost five years. Perhaps it was his older brother, Laurence, a man she had no desire to speak with again. Laurence had not even found it necessary to inform her about Garrett’s death in person. Instead, he’d sent her a note.

Her eyes refocused on the dark-haired man at the table. Something about his mannerisms reminded her of the only man she’d ever loved. The only man who had broken her heart so completely. Not a day passed that she didn’t wonder how different her life might have been if he hadn’t gone off to the war.

But this gentleman was surely different. His black hair was longer, almost reaching to the collar of his emerald coat. And he had a slight limp as he walked past the table. Still, the way he cocked his head as someone made a comment seemed vaguely familiar.

Tessa looked down at her wine and noticed how badly her hands trembled. This had to stop. Garrett had been dead for five long years and nothing could bring him back. And yet, even as she scolded herself, her gaze returned to the man at the refreshment table. She smiled slightly, knowing he was about to turn around and then she would see for certain that he was not the man she’d loved.

The black-haired man turned towards her.

It couldn’t be him. Garrett was dead!

Tessa’s wine glass fell through her cold fingers.

Two

Everyone’s gaze, including Garrett’s, turned as the sound of breaking glass rent the air. A flash of red hair could be seen before the woman raced from the ballroom and out a terrace door. His heart stopped for a moment. It couldn’t be her. After what had happened, she would never attempt to go about in society again.

“It truly amazes me that anyone would invite Lady Townson to a ball,” whispered a female voice behind him.

“Poor Mrs Billings felt she had no choice but to bring her into her home after the old lord died. After all, she is her cousin,” another woman commented.

“She should have stayed in the country.”

Fury washed over him at both the comments, and at the idea that Tessa was at the ball. Had she seen him and dropped her glass? He almost laughed at the thought. The cold-hearted woman had probably only been flirting with another man when she let the glass slip. She was likely just trying to attract more attention to herself.

But watching her scamper off to the gardens had sent his anger even higher. It was high time he confronted her about what she’d done to him. With her living in the country, he’d never felt a need. But now that she had returned, he would deal with her. He strode towards the terrace, attempting to ignore the pain in his hip and the looks of pity from the people around him.

The cool April air was like a slap in the face after the stifling conditions inside the ballroom. The fresh scent of the evening air refreshed him. He moved along a row of rose bushes, the gravel crunching under his feet as he listened for any sound. The chilly temperatures had kept most of the amorous couples inside. A few torches lit the path as he ambled towards the brick wall to the back of the garden. He paused for a moment to listen to the rhythmic shuffle of pacing on the gravel path ahead of him.

He found her with her hand over her mouth, muttering, pacing, her eyes frantic.

“How can he be alive?” she whispered.

He didn’t move for a moment but just stared at her, remembering exactly how she had looked five years ago. So beautiful it took his breath away.

With her red hair and blue eyes, a heart-shaped face and curves exactly where a man wanted them, she had been one of the most popular girls out during her seasons. She had favoured him with her smiles and her dances. And he had craved her attention. Now she had matured and sorrow marked her face. Could she have loved her older husband so much that she still missed him a year after his death?

“What are you doing here, Tessa?”

She glanced up with a gasp and shook her head. Tears trailed down her cheeks and her blue eyes looked like wet sapphires. “What am I doing here?”

“That was my question.”

She rose from her seat and stared at him. “You are supposed to be dead.”

Dead? “If you think you can attempt to fool me with your duplicitous words, you are mistaken.”

“Fool you!” She walked over and slapped him across the face.

Damn. He rubbed his cheek as the pain lessened. “Try that again and you will find yourself over my knee.”

She laughed caustically. “Over the knee of a dead man. I doubt you will be able to manage it.”

“Why do you insist that I am a dead man?” he asked.

“Why don’t you ask your brother? I’m sure he can tell you why he wrote me a letter stating that you had died. Or maybe you can explain why I received your letter. The one I was only supposed to receive after your death.”