The last fiddle had been played. The last candle in the grand ballroom had been snuffed out. The Hamilton mansion, which had vibrated with laughter and music for hours, finally settled into a heavy, contented silence.
The guests had all departed or retired to their rooms. The servants, exhausted but smiling, had cleared away the glasses and blown out the lamps in the hallway.
Ines stood in her bedroom. She had changed out of her magnificent wedding dress. The heavy cream silk was carefully draped over a chair, looking like a ghost of the joyous day.
Now, she wore a simple white nightgown made of soft cotton. Her hair was loose, falling down her back in waves, freed from the pins and the jasmine flowers.
She looked at the door.
Technically, she should be asleep. The carriage for Carleton was leaving at dawn, and dawn was not far away.
But she couldn't sleep. Her heart was still dancing the waltz.
