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repeated. “He’s going to be driving for his own brand-new company, apparently, but I’ve offered him some non-financial support as well. I don’t mind doing him a good turn to start him on his way. If I bet wisely enough, perhaps I’ll profit from the whole business, even without an entry of my own in the race.”
    Charlotte scoffed at the idea of wagering, while Eliza tried to capture the thoughts flying wildly through her brain. She couldn’t . . . could she? She knew if she agreed, she would be doing so for all the wrong reasons, not to explore the world for herself but to spite Matthew Pence. This was an old reflex, drawn from the days years ago when she’d been so frustrated by Matthew’s attempts to restrict her actions. It was still strong, however, probably because she found that he still annoyed her. Made the hackles on her neck rise . . . sort of. Her reaction unsettled her, and she was inclined to go on the offense rather than wait passively and hope things would improve.
    But if I win, it really would spite Pence so very, very well. It would show him he was wrong all along.
    Then, clear as a bell, it occurred to Eliza that she didn’t have to choose one reason. It could be both. Or rather, she could do it for herself, as a rare adventure per Charlotte’s urging, and just accept wiping the smug look off Matthew’s face as one more happy consequence of victory.
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    I F M ATTHEW WAS surprised to see Eliza Hardison approach him at the ball that night, he hid it well. At least he hoped he hid it well. He suspected he might have gaped, at first, at her overall appearance. She was breathtaking in a pale pink, shimmering gown that would have looked bland and insipid on most girls. On Eliza, it looked like she had blushed, and the seamstress had dyed the fabric to match that delicate glow. Her snowy skin was luminous, the contrast with her black hair astonishing.
    Lovely as she was, however, he didn’t quite trust the sweet smile she bestowed upon him. He hadn’t completely forgotten the girl he’d known four years ago. In fact, in this light, he thought he could even make out a freckle or two. Though he’d have to look closer to know for sure.
    â€œMiss Hardison, you look beautiful this evening,” he said with a nod.
    Demure as a girl in her first season, Eliza fluttered her eyelashes and gazed bashfully at the parquet floor. “Thank you, Mr. Pence.”
    â€œI’d still be honored to claim that first waltz if it’s available.”
    She handed over her dance card with no complaint, and Matthew caught a whiff of jasmine as he bent to write his name on the flimsy page. He was just straightening when she spoke, stunning him to silence.
    â€œMatthew, I know we’ve had our little disagreements in the past, and for my part I just wanted you to know that I don’t bear you any ill will at all. I’m sure you only had my best interests at heart all those times you kept me out of the workshop. We should consider this a fresh start. Pax?” She offered him her hand, surprising him with the strength of her handshake. It was all business, in distinct contrast to her dainty appearance.
    â€œOf course. We’ve both grown up a bit since then. I think we can let bygones be bygones.” The strains of a waltz floated over to them and Matthew crooked his arm, leading Eliza to the dance floor with a growing sense of surreality. This beautiful creature on his arm, agreeing to dance with him, encouraging a new perspective on their relationship . . . was it possible this was the same girl he’d seen as a pesky little sister for so many years? He could barely reconcile this Eliza with the one he’d known four years ago, freckles or no freckles.
    â€œYou’re right,” she murmured once they had started their dance. She leaned in so he might hear her better over the