Irresistible by Mary Balogh

that they are eligible in every way,” she said. “You will present them to Edwin and me, Sophia?”
    “Of course,” Sophia said, “if they are there tonight.” She knew they were going to be there.
    “Well,” Edwin said with a chuckle. “After tonight we will have Sarah happily settled and you and I may retire to the greater comfort of the country again, my love.”
    “Papa!” Sarah, who rarely recognized a joke when it was subtly made, looked alarmed. “Nothing will be settled in one evening. We cannot go home yet.”
    Beatrice laughed and patted her hand.
    Nathaniel was going to be at the ball with his sister and his cousin, Sophia thought. Perhaps he would not wish to bring them anywhere near her. Not now that she was his—no, she was not. Absolutely not. She would not even begin to think of herself in that demeaning way. But even so, he might feel awkward about presenting her to his relatives or asking her to present him to hers. She really did not know how such affairs were conducted. But of course he had already met Sarah. Would he dance with her? Would Edwin and Beatrice try to net him for their daughter?
    The thought was absurd—and horrifying. Nathaniel was far too old in both years and experience for Sarah. Besides, he had no wish to marry. And even if he did, he would not have the poor taste to choose the niece of his lover.
    But examining her feelings, Sophia recognized that there were both jealousy and possessiveness there. And a huge lack of confidence in her ability to hold his interest. She hated her lack of self-esteem. It had not used to be there, but though she knew there was no real need to doubt herself, damage had been done when she was young and impressionable. It was difficult to recover belief in oneself once it had been lost—or robbed.
    Last night was good, Sophie.
    It would certainly bear repeating.
    He had meant the words. She must believe them. She had as much to offer their relationship as he did. She must believe that. She would believe it.
    “Perhaps, Aunt Sophie,” Sarah was saying, “Lord Pelham and Sir Nathaniel will dance with you. It would not be surprising, I am sure.”
    “You are indeed very famous, Sophia,” Edwin said, a twinkle in his eye.
    Sophia laughed. “And well past my dancing years,” she said. “I shall be perfectly content to find a quiet comer in which to sit and watch Sarah’s triumphs. And Lewis’s too.”
    In all the regimental balls throughout the war years she had never sat out a single set. It was not a matter for conceit. It had happened, of course, because the gentlemen had always far outnumbered the ladies. None of the ladies had ever sat out a set. But each of the Four Horsemen had always danced with her. They had not always danced with the other ladies. She had felt young on those occasions and attractive and exhilarated—but they had been very rare.
    How wonderful it would be tonight if... But probably not with Nathaniel. Doubtless they would keep well away from each other. And even the faint chance of being able to dance with one or more of the others did not quite make up for the fact that the two of them would probably treat each other like strangers. She hoped she would not find herself in the awkward position of having to present him to Edwin and Beatrice. Oh dear, she thought, and they had convinced themselves that there need no longer be any awkwardness between them. She dreaded seeing him again in public.
    Would he come to her later tonight? she wondered. Or tomorrow? Or never? Last night it had happened without planning. This morning an affair had seemed possible. This evening it did not. It was something that would somehow never be spoken of between them again, she was suddenly sure—especially as the carriage had slowed and then stopped behind a long line of carriages and she could see far ahead all the glitter of the other guests getting down from their carriages.
    All she had really done this morning, she thought—though