And it would have been painful.

Something akin to admiration began to flutter within her. He was still rude and annoying, and she certainly did not enjoy his company, but for the first time since that fateful duel three and a half years earlier, Sarah found that she admired him. He was strong. No, not in that watch-how-effortlessly-I-can-toss-a-young-lady-onto-a-horse way, although for all she knew he was that, too. She did have her hand on his arm, and there was nothing soft about him.

Hugh Prentice was strong on the inside, where it truly counted. He’d have to be, to come back from such an injury.

She swallowed, her eyes finding focus somewhere across the room even as she continued in step next to him. She felt unsettled, as if the floor had suddenly dropped an inch to the right, or the air had gone thin. She had spent the last few years detesting this man, and while this anger had not consumed her, it had, in some small way, defined her.

Lord Hugh Prentice had been her excuse. He had been her constant. When the world tipped and changed around her, he had remained her steady object of disgust. He was cold, he was heartless, he was without conscience. He had ruined her cousin’s life and never apologized for it. He was horrible in a way that meant nothing else in life could ever be that bad.

And now she had found something within him to admire? That was unlike her. Honoria was the one who found the good in people; Sarah held the grudge.

And she did not change her mind.

Except, apparently, when she did.

“Will you dance to your heart’s content once I’ve left?” Lord Hugh suddenly asked.

Sarah started, so lost in the tumult of her thoughts that his voice hit too loudly at her ears. “I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” she said.

“You should,” he said quietly. “You’re a lovely dancer.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“Yes, Lady Sarah,” he said, “that was a compliment.”

“I hardly know what to do with it.”

“I’d recommend accepting it gracefully.”

“And do you base this upon personal experience?”

“Certainly not. I almost never accept compliments with grace.”

She looked up at him, expecting to see a sly look, maybe even a mischievous one, but his face remained as impassive as ever. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“You’re a very odd man, Lord Hugh Prentice,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he said, and they steered around Sarah’s enormous great-uncle (and his remarkably tall wife) to reach the ballroom door. Before they could make their escape, however, they were intercepted by Honoria, who was still radiating such happiness that Sarah thought her cheeks must ache from smiling. Frances was standing at her side, holding her hand and basking in the bridal glow.

“You’re not leaving so soon!” Honoria exclaimed.

And then, just to prove that it was impossible to make an unnoticed exit in a room full of Smythe-Smiths, Iris suddenly materialized on Honoria’s other side, flushed and out of breath from the Scottish reel that had just ended.

“Sarah,” Iris said with a tipsy giggle. “And Lord Hugh. Together. Again.”

“Still,” Hugh corrected, much to Sarah’s mortification. He gave Iris a polite bow, then turned to Honoria and said, “It has been a delightful wedding, Lady Chatteris, but I must go to my room for a rest.”

“And I must accompany him,” Sarah announced.

Iris snorted a laugh.

“Not to his room,” she said quickly. Good Lord. “Just to the stairs. Or maybe—” Did he need help on the stairs? Was she supposed to offer it? “Er, up the stairs if you—”

“As far as you wish to take me,” he said, his benevolent statement clearly meant to tease.

Sarah tightened her fingers on his arm, hopefully to the point of pain.

“But I don’t wish for you to leave yet,” Honoria exclaimed.

“They do make a lovely pair,” Iris said with a smile.

“You are too kind, Iris,” Sarah ground out.

“It was lovely seeing you, Lord Hugh,” Iris said, with a slightly too-fast curtsy. “I’m afraid you will have to excuse me. I promised Honoria I would find Cousin Rupert and dance with him. Must keep my commitments, you know!” She gave a jaunty wave and scooted away.

“Thank heavens for Iris,” Honoria said. “I don’t know what Rupert has been eating this morning, but no one wants to stand near him. It is so comforting to know that I can count upon my cousins.”

And the dagger that Iris had just thrust into Sarah’s heart got a neat little twist. If Sarah had thought she might divest herself of Lord Hugh anytime soon, she was clearly mistaken.

“You should thank her later,” Honoria continued, directing her words toward Sarah. “I know how much you and Cousin Rupert don’t . . . ah . . .” Her voice trailed away as she remembered that Lord Hugh was standing across from her. It was never polite to air family differences in public, even if she had made him aware of the rift just the day before. “Well,” she declared, after clearing her throat. “Now you don’t have to dance with him.”

“Because Iris is,” Frances put in helpfully, as if Sarah had not quite grasped that.

“We really must be going,” Sarah said.

“No, no, you can’t,” Honoria said. She took Sarah’s hands in her own. “I want you to be here. You are my dearest cousin.”

“But only because I’m too young,” Frances sotto-voiced to Hugh.

“Please,” Honoria said, then turned her face toward Hugh. “And you, too, Lord Hugh. It would mean so much to me.”