Hey, everybody! I know you've had to wait a little bit for this, but I think the fact that this is sort of a longish chapter (compared to others in this story) will make up for that. I'll just go on the record now as saying that I loved writing this chapter. A LOT. And, I dare say, I think that you will love reading it just as much. Or, at least, I hope you will...

It was exactly a week later, and the evening of Henri's engagement party had arrived. Liberty was not a happy young woman. She had begged and pleaded with her mother to be allowed not to go, and she had even tried to fake an illness, but to no avail. It was a quarter past five, and the party started at six, so they were leaving in another half an hour, maybe a little less. That gave her another thirty precious minutes of freedom before she had to go and watch Henri with another woman. It was not a pleasing thought.

She was putting the finishing touches to her outfit for the evening, for her pride would not permit her to look anything less than perfect. She had put on her newest dress, just finished that spring, and made in the very newest style. It was made of pink and cream striped silk with the skirt draped back in front to reveal a cream silk underskirt. The neckline was low and edged in pleated chiffon ruffles. More of the same ruffles edged the elbow length sleeves and the hem of the skirt, and her tighly corseted waist was tied with a white ribbon sash. She finished the outfit with pink satin dancing slippers, and pulled her hair up in a loose, airy mass, weaving a pink ribbon through it and leaving little blonde curls to frame her face.

"You look lovely," said Mercy, who was also dressing. The two sisters, plus their parents, were the only Hillers attending tonight's event. The rest were staying home under the watchful eye of their elderly next door neighbor, Mrs. Matson. Mercy was dressed in pale green poplin, a color that complimented her red hair and green eyes, so like their mother's.

Liberty frowned into the mirror, her expression making it clear that she didn't agree. "Do you really think so?" she asked.

Her sister nodded. "You look perfect."

"I guess that will have to do then," said Liberty, still a little unsatisfied. But there was no more time; their father was calling from the foot of the stairs. Draping velvet wraps around their shoulders, they walked downstairs to find their father, dressed in his finest waistcoat, waiting to escort them outside. The cart was tied up at the hitching post, and their mother already sat up front, dressed in pale blue silk and holding the reins steady. But she gladly surrendered them to her husband, who climbed up into the driver's seat after helping his daughters up. With a click of the tongue and a gentle slap of the reins, they were off.

Liberty sat in the back seat, clutching her sister's hand so hard that Mercy winced a little. Of all the people in the world, only her sister knew her secret. She had told her the morning after that fateful dinner. So only Mercy knew the pain that her sister was feeling; only Mercy was able to bear a little of it as the cart rumbled through the breezy, balmy August evening. Just imagine what they both would have felt, had they known what this evening had in store.

After a short drive through the streets of Philadelphia, the Hillers pulled up outside the Hawthorne mansion. The house was brightly lit from within, and sounds of music and laughter floated out the open windows. They were helped out of the cart by a uniformed butler, who then led them through the front door, where another servant was waiting to take their wraps, and across the hall to the ballroom. And there they were unceremoniously abandoned, obviously not warranting a formal introduction like the party's wealthier guests.

The four Hillers stepped into the room and because no one at all was paying attention to them, Liberty found herself free to look around. The ballroom was massive, with a high ceiling, sparkling crystal chandeliers, and heavy velvet draperies on the floor to ceiling windows. A five piece orchestra, surrounded by potted palms, was at one end of the room, tuning up for the dancing that was about to begin. Large crowds of people, all very wealthy looking and dressed in exquisite clothing that had obviously cost a fortune, milled about, asking one another for dances. She looked around, but there was no sign of Henri.

A young man came up to her, smiling and holding out his hand. "Miss," he said, in a voice simply gushing with charm, "May I have the honor of dancing the first number with you?" Liberty sighed. She really didn't feel like dancing at all tonight. Looking back at the young man, whose smile was everything that was captivating and insincere, she shook her head, whispered no, and walked away, going over to stand against the wall as the first dance began.

That was when she saw him. Henri. He was dressed in a fine looking blue coat, and he looked devastatingly tall and handsome. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, then sank when she saw that there was a young woman with him. This had to be Anne Hawthorne, and Liberty immediately felt pangs of jealousy upon seeing her. Anne was dressed tonight in red satin, and she somehow managed to look decent, though of course she couldn't come up to Liberty. The stirring strains of a waltz began to play, and as Liberty watched Henri and Anne, she had to fight back tears. Anne looked so happy, and Henri so dashing. She looked around, saw an empty velvet settee farther down the wall, sighed, and went and sat down. This, she thought bitterly, was what her life was going to be like from now on. She saw her sister, in the arms of a tall, well dressed young man, go waltzing past. Let Mercy take her place and be happy now. What did she have to lose anymore? Everything was lost already.

Ten dances later, the night was winding down. There were only two dances left, and then the party would be over. Henri had been dancing exclusively with Anne all evening. She was very clingy, and wouldn't even let him take a break from ushering her around the dance floor. He had wanted the break to see if he could find Liberty, but he had to content himself with sneaking looks around the ballroom as he and Anne went dancing past. He hadn't seen her all evening, and as the eleventh dance began, he found himself beginning to give up hope that she was there at all.

But then he saw her, sitting with crossed arms on a red velvet settee against the wall, and looking profoundly unhappy. But still, there was something so very beautiful about her. Her gown fit like a dream, and her hair formed a golden cloud about her angelic face. He began to walk over towards her, but Anne's grip on his arm tightened as she pulled him closer. "Where are you going?" she asked, "The dance is starting." And it was. The opening bars of another number began to play, and Henri was forced to lead his partner back onto the dance floor. But he made his own private resolution to ask Liberty for the twelfth and last dance of the night.

The eleventh dance ended, and there was a short break as men sought out their partners for the twelfth. Ignoring Anne's protests, Henri told her he was sitting this one out, and went off to find Liberty. He found her still sitting on the settee, still looking unhappy,and bored too. Gathering up his courage, he adjusted the lapels of his coat, walked up to her and said, "Good evening, Liberty. May I have this dance?"

Startled at the sound of someone's voice, Liberty looked up. Henri was standing before her, a big smile on his face. He extended his hand to her. "May I have this dance?" he asked again.

"M-me?" stuttered Liberty. Great, she thought to herself, make him think that you're a complete idiot.

He smiled at her again, showing those beautiful white teeth of his. "Yes, of course you. Now will you? Please?" There was a sort of boyish hope in his face that Liberty found irresistible.

She smiled back at him, feeling better now than she had in days. "I'm not much of a dancer," she said shyly, "But if you really want me to, I will."

He pulled her so close that her breath caught in her throat. The music was starting. But instead of launching into a waltz, which was the customary closing dance at such occasions, the violinist launched into a fast moving schottische. Liberty looked up at Henri questioningly, and saw that he was smirking. It was very attractive. "Did you have something to do with this?" she asked.

He laughed. "What do you think?" he asked teasingly, "Now come on, let's dance." And just like that, he pulled her onto the dance floor, and they joined the other couples circling the ballroom.

Liberty was in heaven. Henri was by far the best man she had ever danced with. Skillful and rhythmic, he kept them moving in perfect time. She laughed with sheer delight. "How did you know that this was my favorite dance?" she asked.

"I just had a feeling." He pulled her even closer. "Did you know that you're a wonderful dancer?" he whispered in her ear.

Liberty felt shivers run up and down her spine at the feel of his breath on her skin. She savored the feel of his strong arms around her, holding her close like he would never let her go. This was wonderful; she could dance with him forever. Everything else just seemed to melt away until only they were left, locked in their own private universe. But she could tell that the song was coming to an end. Good things couldn't last forever, she supposed.

Henri could also tell that the music was almost done, but he was determined not to let her go so easily. She was perfection, absolute perfection. Despite her modest protests, her dancing was flawless, and he was reveling in the feel of her thin, supple body beneath his fingertips. The last notes of the song rang out, and all the couples ceased their whirling and stood still, clapping for the musicians. Liberty looked up at him, face flushed becomingly, eyes shining, perfect pink lips parted just a little. The ribbon in her hair had come loose and fallen out, they had danced so rapidly, and her face was framed by shimmering waves of gold. And in that instant, he knew what he had to do. Drawing her as close to him as he could, he put his lips to hers, kissing her, finally doing what he had dreamed of for the past two years.

Liberty was shocked. What was he doing? Did he really love her after all? Had he been drinking? This was all too sudden. But instinctively, she kissed him back, molding her body to his. He was a fantastic kisser, that was for sure. Blissfully unaware that the other party guests were now watching them, they kept at it. The moment was magic, absolute magic, and from the second their lips touched, they knew that it was meant to be. But it couldn't last forever, and eventually they broke the kiss and came up gasping for air.

That was when Liberty stole a glance around, and saw that everyone was staring at them, hateful looks upon their faces. What was she doing here? She was kissing another woman's fiance, that was what. No wonder everyone was staring. Suddenly, the magnitude of what she had done hit her, as well as the futility of it. Whether Henri loved her or not, he was still engaged to another, and nothing could change that. Overwhelmed with it all, she burst into tears. "Liberty," Henri whispered, "What's wrong?"

But she couldn't answer him; she couldn't even try. Shaking her head furiously, she pulled free of his embrace, quite easily too, for he was too startled to hold her any longer. "Liberty, what on earth..." he muttered tersely. The tears began to flow faster, and she knew that she had to get out of there. Turning quickly, she bolted from the room, taking Henri's heart with her. "Liberty!" he yelled, but it was too late. She was gone.

A flash of pink by his shoe caught his eye, and he bent down to see what it was. Straightening, he found that he held Liberty's hair ribbon in his hand. He rubbed it between his fingers thoughtfully as he stared at the ballroom door. Suddenly conscious of a presence by his elbow, he looked over to see Anne standing beside him. He turned to look at her, and in that very instant, she reached up and slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" she yelled. Henri spluttered and stuttered out an answer, but it wasn't very satisfactory, and Anne too ran from the room. The party was over, and it was time for everyone to go home.

Liberty ran from the ballroom, down the long main hall, and out the front door, not even pausing to take her wrap from the butler. All of a sudden, the atmosphere in that house had become stifling, and she needed to get out. She bolted down the steps, paused just for a second to get her bearings, then started off in the direction of her home.

Once she reached the end of the block, she quit running, turned around to see that no one was following her, and set off again at a brisk walk instead, arms folded across her chest. The night had turned muggy, with just the faintest hint of a breeze coming off the water to ruffle through her hair. She was still crying hard, seemingly incapable of stopping. Everything was so completely and utterly hopeless. She was certain now that Henri had feelings for her. He just had to. Why else would he kiss her like that? But even if that was the truth, it didn't get them anywhere. He was still engaged to Anne, and the two of them were going to be married. Married. And she could do nothing to change that. And if Henri married someone else, what would she do? She loved him, she loved him with all her heart. But he was hers no longer; he never really had been. That kiss had been special. And she knew it had been destiny; she could just feel it. But even so, everything was still so futile. Maybe he had just been using her, just trying to get in one last kick before he became a married man. She didn't want to believe it of him, but after tonight, she felt that anything was possible.

By this time, she was outside the Hiller house. The windows were dark, and she prayed that the door would not be locked. It wasn't, and she pushed it open as quietly as she could. Mrs. Matson was sitting in the parlor, dozing softly. Liberty gently shook her awake and told her she could go on home. After the woman left, she took a candle from the hall table, lit it, and took it upstairs with her. As she walked down the second floor hall, she looked in on her siblings. They were all sleeping peacefully. Oh, she thought, to be a kid again. Things were so much simpler then. Reaching her room at the end of the hall, she set about getting ready for bed, closing the door so her brothers and sisters wouldn't hear her sobs. She pulled off her dancing slippers and flung them back in the wardrobe. She did take care to hang up her beautiful party dress though, even smoothing out the wrinkles in the skirt. She pulled on her thin cotton nightgown, then sat down at her dressing table to brush her hair. It was then that she realized for the first time that her hair ribbon was gone. She had been so upset that she hadn't even noticed. Oh well, it was just a ribbon.

She could hear the rattling of wheels and the clopping of horses' hooves on the cobblestone street outside. Pulling back the curtain, she looked out the window and saw that it was her family. If there was anyone she didn't want to talk to right now, it would be them. Hoping and praying that they wouldn't come and try to comfort her, or worse, scold her, she blew out the candle and dove into bed, rolling over onto her side and pulling the quilt up to her chin. She was still crying a little when Mercy came into the room. Still in her party clothes, she came over and sat on the edge of her sister's bed. Without even really thinking about it, Liberty sat up and let her sister hug her, glad for her reassuring presence in spite of herself. Resting her head on Mercy's shoulder, she cried and cried. "Oh Libs," whispered her sister, "I'm so sorry." And then they just sat there, with Liberty crying and Mercy smoothing her hair.

In the meantime, back at the mansion, the party broke up, with all the guests chattering excitedly about what had happened as they moved off to collect their wraps, get in their carriages, and go home. Henri looked around, and saw the Hillers moving for the door, pained looks on their faces. He ran over to them. "Please," he begged, "Please let me explain."

Mr. Hiller fixed him with a frosty stare. "I don't think you can," he said in a tense, tired sounding voice.

"James," said his wife, "maybe you should-"

Her husband cut her off. "Sarah," he said, "I think what we all need right now is to go home. I honestly don't feel like dealing with this."

"But Papa," his daughter protested, "If he loves Liberty-"

She too was cut off. "Mercy, I said we weren't going to discuss this right now. Now let's go get our wraps and leave. Right now, your sister is running around the streets of Philadelphia alone, in the dark." He jabbed a finger in Henri's direction. "And it's all his fault." Taking his wife by one arm and his daughter by the other, he led them towards the door. The women paused at the butler to take their velvet wraps, with Mercy taking Liberty's in her arms. They all looked so forlorn, as if Liberty had died or something. Then they were gone, and the door shut behind them.

He looked around again. Mr. Hawthorne, he knew, was not there. Rather, he was in London on business, and he wouldn't be back for several months. And Mrs. Hawthorne was sitting in the corner, an empty decanter of wine on the table beside her, too drunk to notice anything that was going on around her. So he was safe there. Not that that was any comfort. An entire room of people had seen what had happened. But to be truthful, he had enjoyed that kiss. She was a superb kisser, and he was even more certain now that they were meant to be together. But he was so incredibly sorry that it had to be like this, that he had caused her so much pain, and that this had to have happened now, when it was too late.

He slipped out the front door, the last to leave. It was a long walk back to the boardinghouse, but that was okay. It gave him time to think. Was it really too late? Did he really have to go through with his marriage to Anne? Because now he was more sure than ever that it wasn't what he wanted, that Liberty was the one instead. But was there a way out of his engagement? That was the question, and by the time he opened the door to his room, he had his answer. There was a way out, and now he knew what he had to do tomorrow.

Well, there you go. It finally happened. After all this time, we finally get to see some action between the two of them. I told you that you were going to like it. So, did you? This was my favorite chapter to write so far, and I'd love to know what you thought of it. In the next chapter, we'll get to see how Henri puts his plan into action. Will he get the girl? Stay tuned for updates!