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     her on to the dance floor as the orchestra began again.  She     glanced at Alexander.  He stood motionless, eyes lowered.     What had she done?  Could she ever undo the harm she had     caused?  The questions burned in her.            This was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of     her life, yet she felt miserable.  Everyone was there to     adore her, to admire her, to recognize her nobility, but the     one person that now mattered the most to her wouldn’t     even raise his eyes to look at her.  She forced a smile at Sir     Phillip as they danced.  She looked at her father.  He     smiled approvingly.            Sir Phillip was a man more than twice her age.  His     first wife had died.  He was perhaps the greatest of all the     royalty, next to her own father, and, by far, the most     wealthy.  Even though Phillip was in his late thirties, he     was still a handsome man.  She had even mused once what     it would be like to be his wife.  Everyone quite expected it.     It would give her even greater nobility.  At one time she     had thought she would like the prestige and honor that     would come with marrying the man of highest title.  But     now, as she stole glances at Alexander, her heart trembled.     She knew what she wanted, and a greater title was not it.            The night dragged on forever as she danced with one     nobleman after another.  Alexander’s always constant,     always pleasant smile was gone.  He never moved, never     left the side of his parents, never asked any lady to dance,     though Louise knew there were many ladies of nobility     who would have loved to dance with him.  Alexander was                                       60
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