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grovels, dear,” her mother told Mitch, saving Peyton from answering.
    “Nor does her father,” Mr. McDowell growled.
    “I can grovel,” Mitch said. Peyton’s disbelieving laugh sliced into him until he reminded himself that she believed he was his brother.
    “That I’d like to see,” she said.
    “You will,” Mitch promised. From the way Peyton cut her eyes at him, he could tell she didn’t believe it.
    “You can grovel later, Mitch dear,” Amelia said. “Peyton needs to mingle now. I would so love to see her voted Volunteer of the Year.”
    “Mother, they’ve already voted me Volunteer of the Year,” Peyton whispered to her mother loudly enough that Mitch heard. “I’m getting the award tonight. Remember?”
    “I know that, dear, but it’s never too early to lobby for next year.” Amelia switched her attention to Gaston. “Darling, I see Senator Mabry Collins across the room. He and your father are friends, aren’t they?”
    Gaston nodded. “They were roommates at law school.”
    “Be a dear and introduce him to Peyton. It can never hurt to make the acquaintance of such an important man.”
    “Mother, I can meet the senator later,” Peyton said. It was probably too much for Mitch to hope she preferred his company.
    “Nonsense.” Mr. McDowell spoke up. “With Gaston right here, there’s no better time than the present.”
    “Your father’s right, Peyton, especially since it would be my pleasure.” Gaston’s eyes flicked to Mitch. “You don’t mind, do you?”
    “Actually, I—”
    “Of course Mitch doesn’t mind,” Amelia interrupted. “It’ll give him and I a chance to dance and become better acquainted.”
    She bestowed a beatific smile on Mitch, claimed his arm and turned him in the direction of the dance floor. If she hadn’t been so friendly, Mitch would suspect she was maneuvering him away from Peyton, like a pawn in a chess game.
    An hour later, Mitch was positive that was exactly Amelia McDowell’s intent. She was worse than the young women who kept trying to make his acquaintance. Whenever Mitch moved a step in Peyton’s direction, Amelia blocked his way. Now that Peyton was dancing with Gaston, it had become a serious problem.
    “Mitch, could you be a dear and get me a few of those artichoke hors d’oeuvres across the room?” Amelia kissed her fingertips. “They’re simply divine.”
    Mitch’s eyes followed Gaston and Peyton moving in tandem across the dance floor. The phrase Beauty and the Beast sprang to mind. Peyton looked like a princess in her lacy gown, with her delicate neck exposed by the upsweep of her blond hair and the lights of the ballroom illuminating the beauty of her face. Gaston Gibbs wasn’t bad looking, but his smile had a beastly quality Mitch distrusted.
    “I’ll get you some later, Amelia,” Mitch said. “Right now, I’m going to dance with Peyton.”
    “But, dear, there are plenty of other women in the room who would love to dance with you,” Amelia cried. “You needn’t bother Peyton.”
    Mitch’s brow creased. “You’re forgetting I’m here with Peyton.”
    “How could I possibly forget that, dear?” Amelia patted his arm, a sympathetic expression on her face. “But surely you realize you’re not from her world. Look at her out on the dance floor with Gaston. They make a lovely couple, don’t you think?”
    So there it was. Out in the open. Despite his suspicions of her motives, Mitch hadn’t expected her to be so candid about it.
    “No, I don’t think so.” He adopted one of the sugary smiles that were her specialty. “I think Peyton and I make a better couple.”
    She tilted back her small chin and the air filled with her tinkling laugh. “You are charming, dear, and quite handsome. Please understand, I have absolutely nothing against you. But the truth of the matter is Peyton is a Charlestonian and so is Gaston. She might dally with you, but in the end she’ll be with Gaston.”
    Mitch held his tongue. Dressing