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It wasn’t always like this. Sometimes, she could spend hours at a ball. But perhaps this outing was too soon after her recent illness. She looked down at her hands and ran a finger against her knuckles enclosed in the silk glove. She couldn’t see it now, but she knew her skin was still dry and scaly.

She had used enough powder to conceal her red cheeks, so nobody would know that anything was wrong with her. If she could only relax enough to enjoy herself tonight. If she could only relax enough to enjoy herself ever.

She had forgotten what it was like to have a good time outside of her home, away from Laney.

Laney’s chubby face appeared in front of Helen’s eyes unbidden and a soft smile touched her lips. The little girl’s wobbly walk and her sweet laughter were enough to give meaning to Helen’s entire existence. Laney was the only joy in Helen’s life, which was simultaneously a sad commentary on Helen’s life and a blessing for her.

The loud clicking sound of heels against the floor sounded behind her, and Helen took a deep breath. It was time to go in search of her cousins and leave for home.

She couldn’t even last more than an hour at a public function!

She turned and caught her breath as she almost ran into a wall of a man. Big hands caught her by the arms, making her gasp, and a husky, pleasant male voice asked her silkily, “You are not leaving, are you?”

For a moment, Helen didn’t dare breathe. Warm, male hands were holding her gently by her arms, as a male chest moved right before her eyes. Helen concentrated on his breaths, in and out, in and out, although she still didn’t breathe herself.

“Apologies,” said a gravelly male voice. “It seemed like you were about to fall.”

He slowly withdrew his hands, and Helen could finally breathe again. She inhaled, breathing in the sweet scent of clean linen and washed male body. For some unknown reason, that scent made her feel calm.

“Is anything amiss?” the man asked.

Helen chuckled at her own inadequacy. She completely froze, probably making the gentleman question her sanity. She raised her head, studying the man before her as she did so.

He was a tall, handsome man, dressed in all black except for his crisp white shirt and cravat. His hair was tied back, no wig in sight, and his dark eyes glinted in the moonlight. Helen had to crane her neck all the way back to look the gentleman in the eyes.

She took a step back. “I am well, thank you.”

“You weren’t going to leave because of me, were you?” the man asked sheepishly. “Because in that case, I can leave you alone.”

Helen blinked. “Oh, no. I do not mind the company. Feel free to use this space as you please.”

The gentleman gave her a quirky look. “You do not recognize me, do you?”

His voice had a strange effect on her body. She shivered, as her stomach did a peculiar flip-flop. “My apologies. I am not very good with faces. Have we met?”

“We’ve been introduced before, Mrs. St. John.” He sketched a bow. “Lord Ian McAllistair, at your service.”

Lord Ian McAllistair! Helen’s eyes rounded, as she tried and failed to affect a calm demeanor. Perhaps they had been introduced before, but that was not why she knew his name. He was the lord who had been caught by the evangelist missionaries in the depraved brothel.

“So you do recognize me?” he asked sheepishly, probably reading the thoughts on her face. Helen was never able to hide her emotions. Her cheeks burned, and she was certain her eyes were giving away her thoughts, too.

“Indeed.” Helen tried for a reassuring smile.

“I shall leave you to your… whatever you’ve been doing before I interrupted you.” Lord McAllistair grimaced and turned to leave.

“No need,” Helen hurried to reassure him. “Please, you are as free to be here as I am. I am not a debutante; you will not besmirch my reputation by sharing the balcony with me.”

“I would not be so certain,” he said, turning his torso toward her but still hesitant.

Helen turned away from him, giving him space to process his feelings. “It’s a beautiful night,” she breathed. “I wish we could have the balls outside. The smell of candles, perfume, and unwashed bodies in a cramped room does not inspire dancing.”

“Is that why you are here?” He stepped closer.

“Yes. It is almost impossible to breathe freely in there… And if I get too hot, I get ill.” It wasn’t as simple as that, but she was not about to explain her affliction to a complete stranger.

“But you still come to balls.”

Helen smirked. “Not often. I love dancing and socializing… I don’t get to do much of it or any of it, really. But I still try.”