Amy stood frozen in place in place, staring down at the crowd. She barely noticed Lord Patrick Day stepping up onto the podium beside her. She was far too occupied with trying to interrupt the dowager duchess beside her, who just wouldn't stop talking.

"...is the most amazing young woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Did you all know that this whole event was originally her idea? And that is by no means the first of her charitable endeavours. Why, she has spent most of her life bravely venturing into the darker parts of this city to bring joy and pleasure to those unfortunates, who—"

Oh God oh God oh God, stop now! Please stop now!

"—cannot speak highly enough of her virtues. Since my son has met her, he has been a different person. I don't know what kind of miracles she works on him while I'm not there, but it must be something truly special. Never have I seen such a satisfied smile on his face."

Stop! Just stop, for your own sake! Or at least stop smiling so happily while you say this stuff!

Amy wondered whether it would be a good idea to grab the poor lady her by the back of the neck and drag her off the stage. All in all, it might be kinder in the long run than allowing her to continue speaking.

She is such a sweet, charitable soul. Could Amy allow her to dig her own grave like that?

"...Miss Weston has been such delightful company. Recently, I invited her to my house a couple of times while I had some friends from Russia come over, and we had such fun together!"

On the other hand, frigg being kind! Amy's back was still hurting from that damned board.

Besides, a tiny, selfish voice inside her whispered, what if this actually somehow, impossibly, ends up working out? What if you actually end up getting a home? A man's heart? A family?

Just then, a strong, gentle hand took hold of hers. Glancing up, Amy met the intense blue eyes of Lord Patrick Day, who was looking at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread. And, about someone who probably ate the finest white bread in the Empire every single day, pre-sliced by professional bread slicers, that was saying something.

Essentially, he had lived a life of luxury from the moment of his birth. He had had the best of the best, always, without a single exception. And now he was looking at her as if she was better than all of it put together.

And she wasn't the only one to notice.

The jealous gazes of the women in the crowd down below would probably have been able to poison a viper with a single glance. Amy had always been quite proud of her brilliant green eyes—but right now, they were put to shame by the mob of green-eyed monsters down on the dance floor.

Amy couldn't help it. A tiny, self-satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, everyone!" Clapping her hands, the dowager duchess beamed at the crowd, completely oblivious of the atmosphere. "Now that the happy news has been announced, why don't we resume the evening's festivities? Musicians, start up the second dance!"

Without so much as a by-your-leave, the dowager duchess grabbed Amy by the elbow and propelled her into the arms of her son. Amy was about to protest when she landed on Lord Patrick's chest with a thump. A set of strong arms came up to catch her, and suddenly, Amy didn't feel so much like protesting anymore.

Lifting her hand to his lips, Lord Patrick pressed a gentle kiss onto her knuckles. Out in the open. In front of everyone.

Amy felt her knees go weak. Yet before she could regain control of her extremities, Patrick pulled her towards him, gazing deep into her eyes.

"Miss Weston, I know I already asked, but...would you do me the honour of granting me this dance?"

Amy cocked an eyebrow. She would never admit so out loud, but she had learned a thing or two during her etiquette lessons at Lady Henrietta's. "Isn't it considered impolite to ask a lady for a dance two times in a row?"

Lord Patrick gave her a perfectly gentlemanly smile. "Frigg politeness."

Amy's jaw dropped.

"So, may I have this dance?"

"Um...yes?"

"Good."

Amy's mouth was still hanging open when Lord Patrick Day pulled her down from the podium and into his arms. Just before the first notes of the dance rose into the air, she caught sight of Lady Henrietta grinning at her over Lord Patrick's shoulder like a Cheshire cat.

Heck! How did I end up in this situation?

Just then, Amy was twirled around and nearly lifted into the air. For a moment, it felt like she knew how to fly. And the best thing? Someone was flying right beside her. Taking a deep breath, she looked into Lord Patrick Day's brilliant blue eyes.

"Enjoying the dance, my dear fiancée?"

Amy swallowed. It wasn't so much the words he spoke. It was the way he spoke them. There wasn't a hint of mocking in his voice. Not even a little bit of teasing or humor. He meant it. He really, actually meant it.

His fiancée.

"P-Patrick." Dang it! Why was she stuttering? And why the heck was she still unable to properly curse? "Do you...do you really mean..."

She couldn't squeeze the words out.

"I am a gentleman." Reaching up, he gently cupped her cheek, and pulled her into another turn as the music swelled around them. "Gentlemen don't say things they don't mean."

Amy glanced down, unable to meet his eyes. "They do, actually. Quite frequently."

His face abruptly hardened. With a jerk, he pulled her close. Close enough she could see the fire in his eyes and feel his breath on her face. "Those people were not gentlemen. They're vermin who don't even deserve to be called men." Once again, a finger brushed over her cheek, ever so gently. "Let alone gentlemen."

Amy smirked. That was just too good an opportunity to pass up. "And will you be gentle with me, My Lord?"

To be fair, it only took him about two seconds to catch on. The sight of colour rushing to his face was quite satisfying.

Yay! I still got it!

And, apparently, she also got him.

That thought nearly made her stumble over her own feet. Only now did the meaning of her situation really sink in: she was engaged to the son of a duke. She, Amy Weston, orphaned street rat and most amazing sucker of dicks south of Glasgow. Not credentials to be proudly announced in front of London's high society.

Especially if the dowager duchess of Exeter was doing the announcing.

No matter how much Amy had, ehem..."thoroughly enjoyed" the etiquette and posture lessons, she couldn't bring herself to dislike the woman. How could anyone dislike someone who gave you such hopeful, baby-blue puppy-dog eyes, as if you were the answer to all their prayers?

The thing was...Amy knew she wasn't. Not the answer to her prayers, and not a girl anyone would want for a daughter-in-law. Not really.

And suddenly, that hurt. That hurt a lot.

Amy felt a shudder go through her body. It was a bitter pill to swallow. But swallow it she had to. She was going to end this, right here, right now! She was going to do the right thing, and stop this before it could go any further!

Just then, the last few notes of the dance rang out. The two of them came to a halt and, hesitantly, Amy looked up at Patrick. Patrick and his chiselled face. Patrick's beautiful blue eyes.

Eyes that were gazing straight into her own.

"Amy? What is the matter?"

"Patrick...Patrick, I—"

"Ooooh! So this is the duchess-to-be?"

Amy had never before heard the voice that interrupted her. Nevertheless, she recognized it instantly. It was the voice of someone whose name started with B and ended with an itch.

Well...

Time to scratch, then.

Fixing a beatific smile onto her face, Amy turned around towards the approaching gaggle of women. They were smiling as well, but somehow she doubted it was very genuine. Amy was an expert at fake smiles. After all, she'd seen prime examples of them every morning in the mirror. Compared to that, those amateurs in front of her were laughable.

The chief amateur stepped closer as the dance came to an end. Her smile was the widest of all. It didn't reach her eyes. "I'm so curious. Perhaps it's just my memory, but I don't think I've ever seen this lady at any social events before. Won't you introduce us, Your Lordship?"

Translation: you don't belong here, bitch! Piss off!

Will you look at that? The etiquette lessons had been good for something after all. Amy could speak noblespeak now!

"Oh, don't worry." Amy sent the woman, who was probably three to five years older than she was, a commiserating look. "I understand. Older ladies often have problems with their memory. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

There was a snap sound as, abruptly, the lady's fan slammed shut.

"How very kind of you. I shall do my best to repay your compassion in kind."

"Well, I see the two of you are getting along like a house on fire," Lord Patrick stepped forward, apparently very eager to make sure it wouldn't be his house that would be on fire. "And I haven't even had a chance to introduce you yet. If I may..."

"Why, certainly, Lord Patrick." The itch with the B at the beginning batted her eyelashes up at him. "By all means, go ahead."

"Well, then it'll be my pleasure." Gesturing between the two, he smiled. Or at least he did the best approximation he could manage while caught between two women staring daggers at each other. "Lady Bellford, allow me to introduce you to Miss Amy Weston. Miss Weston, this is Lady Bellford, an acquaintance of mine."

The woman jerked ever so slightly at the words.

Amy smirked. There was that one other thing her etiquette lessons had taught her: inferiors were always introduced to superiors. To judge by the look on her face, Lady Bellford knew this as well. And she was not amused.

Amy smirked. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Bellford."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Weston. After two dances in a row with the same partner, you must be quite exhausted. Why don't you accompany my friends and me, and tell us all about how a girl such as you managed to catch the attention of Britain's most eligible bachelor?"

My oh my...

A grin spread over Amy's face. This tramp had it coming.

"Oh, you want to know how to catch and keep a man's attention, do you?" Linking her arm with Lady Bellford's, Amy started towing her off to her doom. "Let me teach you everything you need to know..."

The last thing Amy saw before she disappeared into the crowd of women was a panicked Lord Patrick desperately trying to catch up.

She gave him a last wave, then disappeared among her new "friends". She didn't get very far, though.

"Hmph." Tearing herself free from Amy's grip, the woman beside her gave her an arrogant look. "I doubt very much there is anything a woman such as you can teach me."

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on that." Amy's grin widened to diabolical proportions, and she slung an arm around the shoulders of her victim. "I wouldn't bet on that in the least. Now, let me tell you all about what happened between me and Lord Patrick..."

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Today you'll have to thank my family for the posting of this chapter. As you read this, I'm at the doctor's having my eyes examined, so I asked them to help me post this :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob