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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