“You are both so very kind,” Hannah told them earnestly. “And to loan me the pearls and the gloves, it is beyond generous”

“We have ulterior motives,” Daisy replied.

Hannah gave her a perplexed glance.

“Very good ulterior motives,” Lillian said with a grin. “We want you as our sister.”

“Have you spoken to Rafe yet?” Daisy asked sotto voce.

Hannah shook her head. “I’ve hardly seen him all day. It seemed he was missing for a while, and then he was talking with a great many people.”

“Something is brewing,” Lillian said. “Westcliff was busy all day as well. And my parents were nowhere to be seen.”

“The Blandfords as well,” Hannah commented apprehensively. “What does all that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Lillian gave her a reassuring smile. “But I’m certain everything will be fine.” She slipped her arm through Hannah’s. “Come look at the tree.”

With all the candles lit, the Christmas tree was a brilliant, spectacular sight, hundreds of tiny flames glowing amid the branches like fairy lights. The entire ballroom was decorated with greenery and gilt and red velvet swags. Hannah had never attended such a dazzling event. She looked around the room in wonder, watching couples swirling across the floor while the orchestra played Christmas music in waltz-time. Chandeliers shed sparkling light on the scene. Through the nearby row of windows, she saw the glow of torches that had been set in the gardens, glowing against a sky the color of black plums.

And then she saw Rafe across the room. Like the other men present, he was dressed in the traditional evening scheme of black and white. The sight of him, so charismatic and handsome, made her light-headed with yearning.

Their gazes caught across the distance, and he surveyed her intently, missing no detail of her appearance. His mouth curved with a slow, easy smile, and her knees turned to jelly.

“Here, miss.” A servant had come with a tray of champagne. Glasses of the sparkling vintage were being passed out among all the guests. The orchestra finished a set and paused, and there was a clink of what sounded like silver on crystal.

“What’s this?” Lillian asked, her brows lifting as she and Daisy took some champagne.

“Apparently someone is going to make a toast,” Daisy commented.

Seeing Lord Blandford draw Natalie with him on the other side of the room, Hannah gripped the stem of her champagne glass tightly. Every nerve tensed with foreboding.

No…it couldn’t be.

“My friends,” Blandford said a few times, attracting the attention of the crowd. Guests quieted and looked at him expectantly. “As many of you know, Lady Blandford and I were blessed with only one child, our beloved Natalie. And now the time has come to give her into the keeping of a man who will be entrusted with her happiness and safekeeping, as they embark upon their life’s journey together”

“Oh, no,” Hannah heard Lillian whisper.

The coldness concentrated in her chest until she felt it needling through her heart. Lord Blandford continued to speak, but she couldn’t make out the words through the blood rush in her ears. Her throat closed on an anguished cry.

She was too late. She had waited too long.

Her hands had begun to shake too badly for her to hold the champagne. She thrust the glass blindly at Daisy. “Please take this,” she choked. “I can’t…I have to …” She turned in panic and anguish, and made her way to the nearest exit, one of the French doors that led outside.

“On this most joyous of holidays,” Blandford continued, “I have the honor and pleasure of announcing a betrothal. Let us now make a toast to my daughter and the man to whom she will bestow her hand in marriage …”

Hannah slipped out the door and closed it, desperately pulling in huge lungfuls of cold winter air. There was the sound of a muffled cheer from inside.

The toast was done.

Rafe and Natalie were engaged.

She nearly staggered under the weight of her own grief. Wild thoughts coursed through her mind. She couldn’t face it, any of it. She would have to leave tonight and go somewhere…back to her father and sisters…she could never see Natalie or Rafe or the Blandfords again. She hated Rafe for making her love him. She hated herself. She wanted to die.

Hannah, don’t be an idiot, she thought desperately. You’re not the first woman with a broken heart, nor will you be the last. You will survive this.

But the more she fought for self-control, the more it seemed to elude her. She had to find a place where she could fall apart. She headed out into the garden, following one of the torchlit paths. Reaching the little clearing with the mermaid fountain, she sat on one of the hard, freezing stone benches. As she covered her face with her hands, hot tears soaked into the white satin gloves. Each sob tore through her chest with knifelike sharpness.

And then through the wrenching gasps of misery, she heard someone say her name.

For anyone to see her like this was the ultimate humiliation. Hannah shook her head and curled into a ball of misery, managing to choke out helplessly, “Please leave me”

But a man sat beside her, and she was gathered up in warm, strong arms. Her head was pulled against a hard chest. “Hannah, love…no. No, don’t cry.” It was Rafe’s deep voice, his familiar scent. She tried to push him away, but Rafe gripped her firmly, his dark head bent over hers. Murmuring endearments, he smoothed her hair and pressed kisses against her forehead. His lips brushed her wet lashes. “Come. There’s no need for this, sweet darling. Hush, everything is fine. Look at me, Hannah.”