A thrill coursed up her spine and she turned toward Ralston, unable to keep her pleasure at his finding her hidden. Of course, once she was facing him—all tall, broad, handsome, impeccably dressed, and starched-cravatted him—she was instantly shy.

What did one say, after all, to one’s fiancé, whom one had last seen in one’s bedroom, as he sneaked out just before daybreak?

He lifted one arrogant brow, as though he were reading her thoughts. She heard the beginning strains of a waltz as he took one of her gloved hands in his. “I should like very much to dance the first waltz with my betrothed,” he said casually.

“Oh,” she said, quietly. She let him guide her to the dance floor and sweep her into his arms.

After several moments of silence, he spoke again. “So. Where were you heading?”

She shook her head, unable to lift her gaze from his cravat. “Nowhere.”

He pulled away slightly, tilting his head to look at her. “Callie,” he said, in a tone that she was certain no female had ever been able to resist. “Where were you going?”

“Spinster Seating,” she blurted, immediately regretting the words. It wasn’t as if people actually called it that.

He blinked once, his eyes moving to the elderly ladies several feet away, then back to her. One side of his mouth kicked up. “Why?”

Her cheeks flamed. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re not a spinster anymore, beautiful,” he said, close to her ear.

“Don’t call me that.” Callie darted her gaze around to see if anyone was looking at them and might have heard. It appeared that everyone was looking at them. Her mother had worked quickly.

He turned her quickly, regaining her attention. “But it’s true,” he said, feigning innocence. “You are very soon to be the Marchioness of Ralston. I’m not saying that you cannot still socialize with Misses Heloise and Beatrice,” he teased. “I’m simply saying you’ll have to rename the area in which you do it.”

She couldn’t help her smile. “I would much prefer to waltz with you than sit with them, my lord.” The words came quickly, and she wondered immediately if she had been too forward…if she were pushing him too far. After all, Ralston never seemed to like society before, there was certainly no reason why he should begin to attend social events now. She risked a glance up into his knowing, amused eyes.

“I would prefer that, myself, my lady.”

She played the lovely words over and over in her head as he whirled her across the room, and she basked in the knowledge that she would dance again, and often, with him once they were married. Callie looked past him to see Juliana watching them, a bright smile on her face. She turned to Ralston, and said, “You told your brother and sister about us.”

“I thought it better they hear it from me than from your mother.”

Callie winced at the words. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel, I tried to keep her quiet.”

He chuckled. “You should have known better than to even attempt it. Let her have her fun, lovely.”

“You shan’t feel that way for long,” Callie warned.

“Well then, I think we had best enjoy my magnanimity while it lasts, hadn’t we?”

He swirled her to a stop as the music faded, and they made their way to Juliana, who threw herself into Callie’s arms with a quiet squeal. Callie laughed at the younger girl but couldn’t help being caught up in the excitement of the evening and the news that she and Ralston were to be married.

She had no time to chat, however, when a quadrille began and Nick joined them, bowing low and asking her to partner him. She happily accepted her future brother-in-law’s offer, and the two were soon halfway across the room. After the quadrille, she was instantly partnered for a country dance, a second quadrille, a minuet, and so on until she had danced every dance during the first hour of the ball. And she was having a lovely time.

As she promenaded around the room with Lord Weston, a charming young man in line for a dukedom, she wondered at the strange turn of events. From Spinster Seating to the belle of the ball and all it took was a marriage proposal.

She paused. A marriage proposal from Ralston.

Ralston.

And then, as though she’d conjured him up, he was there, at her side. Taking her elbow, he guided her around the edge of the ballroom. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, all innocence.

“You know very well that I am,” she said through her teeth. “You did this on purpose!”

He surprised her with a quick turn, moving through a barely open doorway from the stifling ballroom out onto a small, secluded balcony. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She turned to look at him, silhouetted in the golden light from the ballroom beyond. “You made them all dance with me! Because of my list! How embarrassing!” She took a deep breath, spinning back around to face the darkened garden, and repeating, “How very embarrassing!”

“Callie,” Ralston said, confusion in his tone. “I honestly haven’t any idea what you are about.”

She looked up at the starlit sky. “Dance every dance,” she said quietly. “Ralston, I’ve never danced so much in my life as I did this evening. You cannot possibly tell me you had nothing to do with it. You saw the list.”

“I can, indeed, tell you that I had nothing to do with it,” he argued, “because I had nothing to do with it.”

She turned back to face him. “It’s quite sweet, actually, that you would work so diligently to help me complete the items on my list. I suppose I should thank you.”