"What if I don't want to?"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Lord Patrick wanted to slam his head against the wall. Or gag himself. Or both.

Maybe you can ask Miss Amy for help with the gag. She probably has one or two lying around, a voice at the back of his mind whispered.

Why in God's name did he say what he had said? What if I don't want to? She had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him in that way!

Except for when she spent the night in bed with you once? that same insidious voice whispered. Or Twice? Or was it three times?

All right, maybe she did want something to do with him after all. But, more to the point, that didn't mean that he was supposed to want to have something to do with her! He was the god-darn heir to the Dukedom of Exeter! He had a plan! He had a list of eligible marriage candidates...somewhere. And whatever positive attributes Miss Amy Weston might have, eligibility most definitely wasn't one of them. He could not get involved with her!

Even if he really, really wanted to.

But before he could tear himself away from her and gather the courage to end this once and for all, they reached the end of the corridor and, in front of them, the doors to the ballroom began to swing open. Why oh why had he thought it was a good idea to include a bloody ballroom in his house?

Ah yes. He was a lord. Noblesse oblige.

Fiddlesticks!

The doors opened the rest of the way, hitting the walls with a dull thud. The sound of laughing and musicians tuning their instruments abruptly subsided as an entire ballroom full of people fell silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Lord Patrick spotted Griffiths, who had magically appeared beside the ballroom door, a staff in his hand. A staff that he promptly proceeded to knock against the floor.

Oh no, you don't!

"Announcing..."

No!

"Announcing Lord Patrick Day, heir to the Dukedom of Exeter, and his lovely companion for the night, Miss Amy Weston."

Lord Patrick Day made a mental note to institute new penal methods for his staff.

Just then, his lady mother appeared beside him, beaming broadly. "Thank you all so much for being here tonight! I'm so happy that all of you have gathered here together to support the charitable cause I've set out to champion. Now, let the ball begin! My son and his lovely partner will open the festivities with a waltz!"

What a pity penal methods cannot do the same with family members.

There was a moment of silence—then applause exploded from all around.

***

Applause from everywhere. Expectant gazes from all around. Amy felt her face burn.

Come on! It ain't as if ye've never 'ad ta perform in front of crowds before!

True. But, usually, she'd been wearing a lot fewer clothes. Why oh why couldn't she just strip down to her underwear and climb on a table? Then this would be so much less embarrassing!

She glanced sideways at Patrick.

Although probably not for all of us.

Amy couldn't keep one corner of her mouth from quirking up at that thought. The moment it did, the stares aimed her way only intensified. There were the curious ones. The startled ones. The just-arrived-but-already-drunk ones.

As far as the men went, anyway. As for the women...

Amy's eyes narrowed.

They were staring at her. Staring at her with a less than friendly gaze. She'd once seen similar looks from venomous snakes inside a snake pit. Only a few weren't staring daggers at her, and that's because they were too busy throwing greedy glances at Lord Patrick Day, their mouths nearly salivating.

Back off bitches! 'e's mine!

Only an instant later did Amy realize what kind of thought had just flashed through her mind. But by then it was already too late.

Hers?

Had she gone insane? He wasn't! Of course he wasn't! He might be her pseudo-fiancé, but that didn't mean she could monopolize him! It was all for show! It wasn't real! It wasn't—

"Shall we?"

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Lord Patrick extended his hand to her. Before she knew what was happening, her fingers had interlaced with hers.

"Yes."

What the hell...! Had that been her own voice just now? Agreeing? To waltz of all things? What on earth was wrong with her? And why the hell was there red rising to her cheeks? She couldn't be...blushing?

Before she could analyse that, or the fact that she had instinctively lost her bloody accent the moment she stepped into the ball room, Lord Patrick whirled her around to face him and took her other hand in his. In the background, the musicians struck up the first notes of a slow, romantic waltz.

Damn dem! Damn dem to da deepest circle of 'ell reserved for violin players and violent serial killers. Why does it 'ave ta be a slow dance? And why oh why does it 'ave ta be with him?

Whirling her around once more, Patrick suddenly leaned forward until his face was only inches away from hers.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

You! You, you bleeding idiot! You, and your beautiful blue eyes!

"Nothing, Your Lordship. Nothing, really."

"Oh, is that so?" Another twirl, sending her top layer of skirts up to whirl around her like an opening flower. "Then, after this one, you wouldn't mind granting me the honour of another dance, would you?"

Darn him!

"N-no, maybe I wouldn't."

And darn myself for telling the truth! And why the heck had I suddenly stopped cursing properly? And where the heck did my accent go?

It was all him. It was all because of him. Him and his oh-so-brilliant blue eyes.

But...

But...

"Why are you doing this?" She forced out the whisper between her lips. "It's not as if anything can ever come of it." It's not as if you even want something to come of it. "None of this can ever be real."

His eyes lit up with a fire that Amy had never seen there before. Especially not in the gaze of His noble, well-bred Lordship. But now he was looking at her like that. Her and her alone.

"Tonight it can be." Parting their hands for just a moment, he reached out and caressed her cheek in one swift, sweet motion, too fast for anyone but her to perceive. "Tonight we can dream."

Amy swallowed and opened her mouth to deny him, to reject him—only to close it again as a realization settled in. She wanted to. She wanted to dream. For just one night, she wanted to pretend that she wasn't a street rat, that there was more to her life than cowering on a rotting mattress in some hovel, reading stories about beautiful lives that would never be hers.

And this...

This was one of those stories, come to life. With her as the heroine. This was her dream, and she was living it. Wanted to live it.

More importantly...

She wanted to live it with him. Just for one night.

"Hold me," Amy whispered. "Hold me, please."

And he did, pulling her just ever so slightly against him, far enough for her to feel the warmth of him, but not far enough to catch the attention of the onlookers. The pace of the music picked up, and Amy felt fire surge through her veins as the two of them sailed across the dance floor, solitary like a single ship on the ocean, sailing into the sunset. Were there even other people present? In some distant corner of her mind, Amy was vaguely aware of the crowd assembled along the walls of the ballroom to watch the opening dance, but she couldn't really summon up any attention to spare for them.

She was dancing. Dancing with her very own Prince Charming. Well...Lord Charming. But, looking into his bright, sky-blue eyes, she couldn't bring herself to care about the difference.

This was the kind of thing she'd been dreaming of. In the darkness, in the secret hours of the night, when no one could see her tears, she'd dreamed of a handsome man to come sweep her away and off her feet. And now it was happening, with a man who had fought beside her, who had held her when she felt alone and supported her when she'd needed it. A man who, right now, was looking at her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world. A treasure he would do anything to keep. To protect. To love and to hold.

For a moment, just a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend that it was real. That it wasn't just a farce the two of them were putting on. Part of her hated herself for feeling like that, hated herself for being weak. But another, smaller part of her wanted nothing more than to sink against him and relish this stolen moment.

A part that was hopelessly delusional.

She knew it. She knew it deep down inside. This was only one night. One beautiful, bright, romantic night, perhaps, but still only one night. Tomorrow, nobody would remember that random girl who danced with Lord Patrick Day at the ball, and it would be nothing more than a fading memory. Anything real between the two of them...

It could never happen. It could never hap—

"My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" the dowager duchess's voice cut through Amy's thoughts along with the last notes of the dance. All the people who were about to move onto the dance floor froze and turned towards where Lady Henrietta had appeared on the podium, in front of the musicians. They looked as puzzled as everyone else.

Well...

Everyone except for Amy, who was staring at the rather ominous smile the dowager duchess was wearing.

"I'm delighted to see so many of you have come tonight in answer to my invitation, to share their goodwill and donations in aid of this new charity. It is heartwarming to know that so many of my fellow nobles were kind enough to donate such great amounts of money. Especially since many of you were not known for attending charity events before. It is so kind of you that you agreed to come and donate so generously after my...gentle encouragement." She sent the crowd a kind, motherly smile, and several of the people shifted uncomfortably. Others took a few steps backwards, clutching their wallets. "You're such good people. Such good friends. Which is why it is such a pleasure to be able to share this marvellous news with you all today!"

Beside her, Amy felt Lord Patrick stiffen. What was wrong? Whatever the dowager duchess had to announce, it couldn't possibly be that importa—

"I'm delighted to announce the engagement of my son, Lord Patrick Day, Heir to the Duchy of Exeter, to Miss Amy Weston!"

BlastShitCrapDamn!

-------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

What a lovely surprise, eh? Truly worthy of a duchess, I think ;)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob