The chandeliers blazed like captured stars, their light cascading over silk gowns and polished boots as the orchestra swelled with a waltz. Laughter floated through the ballroom like champagne bubbles, effervescent and insincere.

You stood near the edge of the marble floor, hands clasped tightly in front of you, feeling the weight of a hundred glittering stares that weren’t truly looking at you—because no one here noticed a governess. They weren’t meant to. Your gown, though carefully pressed, lacked the extravagance of the others. The jewels at your throat were glass, not diamonds. You were only here because your employers insisted; it was improper, they said, to attend without an escort for their young daughters.

Still, you felt like an imposter in a sea of wealth. And you had no business feeling breathless when you noticed him.

Alexei Vronsky moved through the crowd like a flame cutting through frost—every head seemed to turn, every whispered word following in his wake. Tall, golden-haired, with a smile that could be mistaken for charm when in truth it was a challenge. When his eyes found yours across the room, you looked away too quickly, heart stuttering.

It didn’t matter. A moment later, he was standing before you.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was smooth, carrying just enough amusement to unsettle you.

You blinked, lifting your chin. “I might say the same to you, Count Vronsky. Shouldn’t you be dancing with one of the ladies desperate for your attention?”

A slow smile curved his lips. “And miss the pleasure of discovering why someone with eyes like yours looks so out of place among diamonds and silk? I think not.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you forced a polite smile. “Perhaps because I am out of place. I’m not—” You hesitated, glancing at the glittering crowd. “—one of them.”

He tilted his head, studying you as though you were a puzzle he intended to solve. “Good. They bore me.” His gaze dropped briefly to your hands, still clasped nervously. “You don’t seem the type to bore anyone.”