Her muddled feelings confused her and she didn’t want to see Miles with her mind in this uncharacteristic chaos. She longed for exercise, to focus herself on controlling a difficult mount, anything that might help restore order to her disordered thoughts. She needed to know what had prompted the tenderness of his touch, of his voice, what lay in his heart. But mostly she needed to know what lay in her own. She paid a round of morning visits with Xanthe but found no diversion in talk of the ball that would be held that evening at Evanridge House. Miles would be there. She could not possibly avoid him. Of course she probably need have no fear. She could count on him to behave as the gentleman he was and give not the least sign of the emotional upheaval that had occurred. He might not even be aware of it. It might all have occurred in her own imagination. She still hadn’t come to any certain answer to that question by the time their carriage pulled up in Cavendish Square that night. As she entered the ballroom already filled with the elite of the ton, she wondered for a moment if Xanthe had been at work, enhancing the decor.
