She was unutterably beautiful.

His party had been fashionably late, of course, because that was how things were done, especially in the country. He wasn't even in his best, which made him suddenly deeply self-conscious. It shouldn't have mattered, he knew.

They had been to school together, he and Burt and Dave, when their titles were still only the business of their parents, fathers and elder brothers. Ned had been on his Grand Tour, had his dalliances, his flirtations with women in his social set. When Burt had invited his two friends to his family estate, Mapleton, for the spring, Ned had gone along willingly. The ball was at the neighboring estate, given not so subtly for the excuse of introducing Burt's two eligible friends to local society. The hostess had greeted him warmly upon entrance, and the women were all exceedingly fine, beautiful in their lighter silks. A few of them in particular seemed to notice him, to glance at him coyly over their fans, and he let his gaze linger on them just long enough to show he returned their interest.

Then he had seen her, from across the room.

She wore a long ice-blue dress, cut just low enough in the front to leave him wanting more. Her red-gold hair was pinned up and fell in a riot of curls down her back, and her blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and wit. Her color was high, and she moved with easy assured grace.

Between a waltz and a quadrille, Ned grabbed Burt, nodding in the girl's direction. "You have to introduce me to her."

Burt glanced over, then chuckled. "Should've known," Burt said, shaking his head. "She has a suitor."

"Are they announced?"

"It's imminent," Burt said languidly, taking a sip of brandy. "Or so I'm told. She certainly has grown beautiful, hasn't she."

"How could she ever have been anything else," Ned breathed. When she tilted her head and began to glance over in his direction, Ned quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to be caught staring, although that seemed to be all he could bring himself to do.

Burt laughed again. "Come on," he said, resigned, and when she turned her smile for Burt was genuine and warm.

"Miss Nancy Drew," he said, bowing over her hand, "may I present Mr. Ned Nickerson."

"A pleasure," Ned said, bending low, then glancing up to meet her eyes.

"Likewise," she said coolly, although her eyes were gleaming. "Are you staying at Mapleton for the season?"

"For a few weeks, at least," Ned said, aware that her hand was still in his. "Especially now that I have found the atmosphere to be so convivial."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "I have always been fond of the countryside here," she agreed. "So refreshing. But I mustn't keep you monopolized for the evening; I'm sure you have further introductions to make."

Burt glanced over at Ned. "We did unfortunately arrive late," he said, amusement in his eyes.

Ned kissed her hand again. "I will only relinquish you as long as you'll promise to give me the next waltz."

Her fingers moved against his. "Since you plainly intend to make good on your threat, I suppose you leave me no choice," she said lightly, raising her chin to gaze straight into his eyes.

He found himself momentarily speechless, and before he could find the courage to speak again, she was gone in a swish of skirts and one last flash of her laughing blue eyes.

"She is spoken for?" Ned asked Burt, staring after her, his tone curious.

"She has an intended," Burt replied, taking another sip of his drink.

"She is..."

"I know," Burt said sympathetically. "Her mother died practically in childbed, and she's had no mother, no sisters to help her in society. She has an aunt but the lady is distant, so the girl... is rather unrefined."

"My God," Ned said, raising his eyebrow at Burt. "If she is unrefined I would take a thousand of her over the court's ladies. She is..."

"Unique."

Ned inclined his head in agreement.

He watched her to the next waltz, and she threw herself into each of her dances, but those cool blue eyes laughed without condescention into those of her partners. Her directness was so unfamiliar as to be shamefully flirtatious, but nothing she did, no movement she made or word the other men hung on, was untoward or inappropriate. Ned caught more than one man gazing after her wistfully far after she had left them for other partners.

She was flushed becomingly, cheeks glowing when he extended his hand to her for their dance. "You look as though you might faint on your feet," he remarked, but did not offer to rescind his request.

"I may have a few more minutes in me, sir," she said, bowing so that he couldn't read her eyes with his mildly shocked glance.

Her hands were small and sure in his, her movements smooth and practiced. "You dance quite becomingly."

"Thank you," she said, glancing down in what he interpreted as modesty, even with the directness of her acceptance. "With you, sir, it is effortless."

He was acutely aware of the distance between their hips. "Your father taught you well," he said, glancing up at her.

"He hired the best teachers," she said. "And I have benefited greatly from his generosity."

"Yes," he said, curving his arm around her, drawing her a little closer. The only sign she was aware was the light momentarily tightening of the muscles in her back. Then she relaxed, gazing up at him steadily, a slight spark of amusement in her blue eyes.

"Have you an intended, my lady?"

"Has an offer been made?" She considered for another slow progression across the floor. "Nothing so firm as that."

"But there is someone."

She dipped her head. "There is," she confirmed, shifting her fingers in his. "Perhaps you have met. Sir Franklin Hardy."

Ned considered for a moment, his gaze tracing the graceful curve of her neck. Her skin gleamed. He wanted to taste it, but that impulse was successfully stifled beneath years of social conditioning. "I do not believe we have."

She half-smiled. "He is often away on... business," she said, without the inflection a married woman would have given him, indicating her willingness. For Nancy it was simply a statement of fact. "But he is an exceedingly fine fellow, and most are proud to make his acquaintance."

"And how did he go about claiming you, my lady?"

She gazed at him with speculative eyes, her lips parted, but she apparently changed her mind before speaking it. "We have been friends from childhood," she said lightly, averting her eyes. "He has made no secret of his wish to solemnize our relationship."

"And yet."

She dipped her head, acknowledging her point. "He is also loath to prolong our engagement."

"Have you just come of age?"

Her lip twisted slightly. "Sir..."

"I am impertinent," he agreed, before she could speak it. "I beg your forgiveness. We have only just met and already I overstep myself."

"You do," she agreed. "Our affection is mutual. I am just... not quite willing to lose my freedom just yet."

To that he had no answer. She needed her season, her time to bloom and thrive in the city, before the solemnity of a wedding. He had heard such sentiments expressed with impatient disdain when men became besotted and forgot themselves over girls barely old enough to consent to marriage. Nancy's plain speaking was a sure sign that she was not yet refined enough to make an obedient wife.

"Besides," she said brightly, "were I to be installed in his country estate as its mistress, I would hardly be here to meet such intriguing people."

Ned glanced around the room theatrically, searching for someone who could answer the word 'intriguing.' "My dear, you must introduce me as well."

She had the grace to restrain her laughter, but it came through those blue eyes. "You do your host a disservice," she chastised him mildly.

"Never," he replied in feigned shock. "I am confronted with the same types as always, for the most part." His gaze was direct.

She blushed a little again. "Then I shall do my best to convince you that you are wrong," she said lightly.

"I do so hate to be disillusioned," he replied, swinging her around again. Their bodies had drawn fractionally closer, but not nearly close enough for his liking.

All too soon their dance was over, and when she had curtsied to him, he obeyed the sudden impulse to take her hand again. "Perhaps I might renew our acquaintance, were we to go for a stroll in the garden tomorrow," he said, trying to keep any eagerness from his voice.

"Were you willing to ride so far as River Heights," she agreed.

"You are not staying here for the week?"

"My heavens, no. My father," she glanced over at a tall, handsome man dressed in somber tones, smoking and conversing freely with men Ned did not recognize so much as immediately place as affluent, "is very busy in his work, and does not have the time to escort me to such events often. It is a wonder I made it here at all."

"Busy running the estate? Can he not find a sufficient steward?"

"Busy advising the King," she corrected him, and her lovely face turned serious.

"Then it is a wonder you are in the country at all," he said. He had noticed the few men who had come to ask her for the next dance, growing rather impatient with him for monopolizing her time. "Might I accompany you into the garden tonight, then? If I am to be denied the pleasure tomorrow."

She flipped open her fan, studying him over it. "I shall find my chaperone," she sighed, but her eyes revealed her willingness. "At the French doors in ten minutes, if you please."

He bowed. "I would be honored," he said, and the men waiting on her fell away, discouraged, when she passed them without a second glance, heading toward the kitchen.

--

"I know you shall find this unutterably tedious," Nancy said, snapping her fan back closed, "but a young man desires me to walk with him in the garden, and after what happened last month, Father has demanded I be accompanied at all times."

"After what happened last month," Hannah repeated, her voice incredulous, as she reseated a pin in her silvering brown hair. "After what happened last year, I am surprised that he has not barred your windows and thrown away your chamber key."

Nancy bestowed one of her most charming grins on Hannah, whose eyes softened, but she gave a meaningful snort anyway. "I was not to blame for what happened last year."

"You can attempt those fluttering lashes and melting looks on your father, but they shan't work on me, miss," Hannah said imperiously. "I know full well that you were very nearly..."

Hannah trailed off and Nancy patted her on the arm that held hers. "But I wasn't," she said gently. "And I shan't be tonight."

Hannah gave in with an undignified sigh. "And what has this young man to do with tonight's intrigue?"

"Nothing," Nancy said thoughtfully, without her typically transparent protestations of innocence. "But he seems quite eager, and hearty, and may be useful."

"Until Sir Hardy finds out about it."

Nancy dismissed such thoughts with another snap of her fan, as they strolled casually around the perimeter of the dancing floor, the servants carefully setting the places in the next room for the imminent supper. "He is very much like my father," she said, but the words in no way sounded complimentary.

Hannah kept her tongue. She and her family had been in service to the Drews from time out of mind, and at the sudden death of the lady of the house and the lord's apparent unwillingness to choose another bride, Hannah had been her young mistress's constant companion. Even after Nancy had become fast and lifelong friends with the Fayne cousins, she had never stopped sharing her intrigues with the woman who, for all intents and purposes, was merely her lady's maid.

Her own marriage had borne her no children, and from Nancy's first steps and words she had found herself feeling almost like a surrogate mother, as though Lady Catherine's untimely death had left her with a beautiful changeling, meant for her safekeeping until her father finally accepted one of the offers for her hand and dowry.

"And what of this latest young man?"

"He is not," Nancy began indignantly, then appeared to think better of herself. Sir Carson had worked very hard to keep Nancy's less desirable personality traits out of general knowledge, but her reputation as a thorough if harmless flirt rather proceeded her. She had broken twenty hearts unrepentantly even before her season had begun, and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

Hannah persisted. "You tread a fine line when you involve these young men in your intrigues," she said sternly. "They misjudge your intentions."

"Only from their own imaginations," Nancy retorted. "I never give them cause nor hint that I desire anything more than their company and assistance."

"Which, for some men, is all a 'misunderstanding' needs," Hannah shot back. When Nancy pinned her with a sharp glance, Hannah shook her head. "I know. You are more than capable of keeping yourself from harm. You have told me countless times."

"Father raised me well."

"Father raised you as a man would," Hannah said, disapprovingly. "And I have done all I could to reverse that disadvantage."

"'Twas no disadvantage," Nancy said lightly. "I can imagine no better advantage."

Hannah paused, ostensibly to admire a particular flower arrangement, and glanced over at the young man trying unsuccessfully not to pace in front of the French doors. "And here is the man who shall be trailing your skirts like an eager puppy for the next two weeks," she said, her voice rising inquisitively at the end.

"You shall get to know him well," Nancy replied, opening her fan with the deft flick of her wrist. Her eyes were already smiling. "He seems a very agreeable escort."

"Agreeable is right," Hannah said, studying the tailored lines of his coat, the gleam of his shoes, the dress of his hair. "You may be playing a dangerous game with him."

"Otherwise, why play," Nancy said, setting her eyes on him.

--

"Do you spend much time in London?"

"Do you?" she returned, almost immediately.

Ned glanced over at her in mild shock at her boldness, and Nancy felt a small frisson travel down her neck when their gazes met. She lowered her gaze, feigning repentance.

"As much as anyone," he replied, after a pause. From behind them Nancy could hear the scrape of Hannah's shoes as she shadowed a few paces behind them. "But it can get boring after a while."

"I can't imagine that," she said quietly.

"Do you find the city so diverting?"

"I do not find the city at all," she laughed a little, and his hand was warm on her arm. "Father believes it would overstimulate me, and finds ever more excuses to delay my visit there."

"And so you are left to wither in the British countryside."

"I find some amusements," Nancy said lightly, and from behind them she heard Hannah unsuccessfully make an attempt to hide her snicker. She shot a glare back over her shoulder and Ned met her eyes when she glanced back at him, and that frisson slid lower, down the middle of her spine.

"Do you."

"Pianoforte can be very diverting," she said dryly.

Ned gazed at her a moment. "I am almost afraid to ask your list of accomplishments."

"You are afraid because it might send you into a paroxysm of boredom," she said, and snapped her fan open again. "And you, sir. When you are not in London you are doubtless fascinated by the endless balls and hunts of the country, are you not?"

"Doubtless," he returned, just as dry as she. "I live for events such as these."

His tone belied the interest in his eyes. She was forced to revise her opinion of him almost by the moment. His wit was almost perfectly complimentary to her own. "Sir," she sighed, resting her hand on his, "you would not think me entirely impertinent were I to ask you the slightest favor."

"Name it," he said, almost instantly.

For not the first time Nancy felt a tugging, an inability to express what she felt while Hannah was there to observe every word. For the most part Hannah was indulgent of Nancy's intrigues and schemes, but she made her fear for Nancy's safety and reputation known at every opportunity. While Nancy loved Hannah like a mother, sometimes that same relationship made her feel uncomfortably restrained in a way that her father's indulgent but absent affection never did.