She moved across the room toward the fireplace where Harry was sitting in an armchair, Adam nearby on a sofa facing away from Athena. The air grew warmer as Athena approached, and she was grateful for it. October had turned cold, and her recent illness seemed to have left her more sensitive to drafts.
“Adam has finally been provided with indisputable proof that he is a dead bore,” Harry said in a low voice, his eyes twinkling the way they always did when he was in a mischievous mood. He motioned in Adam’s direction, and Athena turned, curious.
She could not, even in her most imaginative moments, have anticipated what she saw. Adam sat on the sofa looking almost defiant while, beside him, Daphne was quite soundly asleep, her head resting against Adam’s arm.
“It was bound to happen, old man,” Harry continued. “The poor girl has endured your company day after day for weeks on end. It’s a miracle she didn’t expire from boredom long ago.”
“Shut up, Harry,” Adam grumbled.
Harry laughed but managed to keep the sound quiet enough not to disturb Daphne. Athena simply stared at the unexpected picture before her. Daphne looked quite comfortable, and that state couldn’t be entirely attributed to her being asleep. Daphne had to have assumed her current position while she was awake. And, perhaps more startling still, Adam had to have been party to the situation.
“She is here often?” Athena asked, trying to make sense of it all.
“Miss Daphne spends an hour every afternoon with her brother-in-law and, as I know to my detriment, fiercely guards her time with him,” Harry answered. “It seems they are quite the closest of friends.”
“Harry.” Adam’s tone was clearly a warning.
“Every afternoon?” Athena couldn’t shake off her shock. She broke her gaze and turned her attention to Harry.
Harry nodded, his smile growing. “Although this is, to my knowledge, the first time Daphne has been rendered unconscious.”
Athena looked back at Daphne once more. Her dark hair, so like Persephone’s, had come loose in chunks as she slept. She was leaning so heavily against Adam that she must have been very deeply asleep. Athena couldn’t imagine being so at ease in Adam’s company. Had she found herself seated beside the duke, Athena was certain she would have been unable to relax enough to breathe evenly, let alone sleep peacefully.
“Have you come for a nap, too, Athena? Adam, I assure you, has many topics he can discuss at length that should almost instantly put you to sleep.”
“You have overstayed your welcome, Harry,” Adam said. “Again.”
“Throw me out in a minute, will you? I, for one, am dying to hear what Athena has to say.”
“Dying is a very good word choice,” Adam replied.
Athena glanced nervously at Harry. “Is he serious?” she asked under her breath.
“Adam is always serious,” Harry answered, but his smile didn’t slip in the slightest. “So it would be best if you deliver your message and escape before he makes good on his sadly repetitive threat.”
That was not very encouraging. But Adam was watching her with a look of impatient expectation, and Athena knew better than not to obey the Duke of Kielder—even if the command was an unspoken one.
“Your mother has sent me to ask you to join her in the ballroom,” Athena said, rushing her words a bit in her desire to have her message delivered as quickly as possible so she might make a quick exit just as Harry had suggested.
“The ballroom?” Adam seemed to almost choke on the word. “Why would she wish to see me in that of all rooms?”
“For . . . um,” Athena cleared her throat. “For a minuet.”
“She wishes me to dance?” Adam looked thunderous, though he didn’t move so much as an inch.
Athena backed up and nodded.
“Adam,” Harry interrupted, quite suddenly standing beside Athena. “No point shooting the messenger. I am absolutely certain the minuet was not Athena’s idea—she does not even care for the minuet.”
Athena looked at Harry standing next to her. She had never told him she disliked the minuet. How had he known that?
“If she doesn’t like the minuet, then why in bloody—”
“Adam,” Harry cut him off.
Daphne stirred slightly beside Adam, no doubt rousing a bit at his raised voice. “Why,” Adam continued, voice lowered, “am I dancing it with her at her ball? Certainly not for my own enjoyment.”
“Your mother thinks it would be most proper,” Athena explained.
Adam muttered something under his breath, though Athena only caught the words mother and torture.
“What am I to tell the Dowager Duchess?” Athena asked, feeling anxious to leave. Adam’s expression was growing less docile by the moment.
“Tell her no,” Adam replied simply, picking up a book set on an end table beside the couch where he was sitting.
“But I cannot dance the minuet without a partner,” Athena said, her protest feeble and barely audible. She would rather not dance the minuet at all but didn’t imagine the Dowager would allow her to back out.
“Adam, you couldn’t pretend to be cooperative for the space of a single dance?” Harry asked.
Adam’s eyes slung to Harry, his look one of reproach. His tone, when he spoke, was as authoritative as always, but Athena thought he sounded reluctant, as if he was begrudgingly making the admission he offered. “If I move, Daphne will wake up. She has not been feeling well, and I will not rob her of rest when she has been ailing.”
The look in Adam’s eyes clearly challenged the onlookers to argue with him. He, apparently, didn’t realize that his words were far too shocking for something as futile as disagreement. Until that moment Athena would not have believed her irascible brother-in-law had tender feelings for anyone beyond Persephone, and she only assumed he had tender feelings for his wife. What an enigma the man was.
“Poor thing,” Harry said. “I hadn’t realized she was unwell.”
“She makes a point of never complaining about anything,” Adam replied, a hint of frustration in his tone. “She needs to give herself greater priority.”
“Well, then,” Harry said. “I will leave Miss Daphne in your surprisingly capable hands and will escort Athena to the ballroom myself.”
“And when you are finished there, throw yourself out,” Adam instructed, turning his eyes back to the book in his hand.
“Perhaps after dinner,” Harry replied.
Adam rolled his eyes but didn’t object.
“Now, off to slay the dragon in the ballroom,” Harry announced and slipped Athena’s arm through his own.
“Did you just call my mother a dragon?” Adam called after them as Harry pulled Athena along.
Harry simply laughed in response.
Walking down the hallway toward the stairs, Athena breathed a sigh of unmitigated relief. Adam made her nervous. And with the unexpected knowledge that he did not at all have that effect on Daphne, Adam was now confusing.
“Do they really spend that much time with one another?” Athena asked, knowing instinctively that Harry would understand precisely what she was attempting to ask.
“Indeed,” he answered. “They have an hour set aside every afternoon that belongs exclusively to the two of them. Daphne very nearly skinned me alive when I interrupted once.”
“It is a difficult picture to reconcile with my understanding of Adam’s character,” Athena admitted.
“Which is ironic,” Harry replied, laying his hand on Athena’s where it rested on his arm. “You see, I found Daphne’s participation surprising, but not Adam’s.”
“Why not Adam’s?” Athena looked up at Harry, meeting his eyes as he looked down at her. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel warm inside, contented. He could bring a smile to her lips no matter how unhappy or uncertain she felt.
“While he does not allow many to see it, Adam is actually a very kindhearted person. He is hard and, at times, acidic, and he is fearsome when defending his own
, but he is far more tender beneath it all than he lets on. And I think he sees something of himself in Daphne. They both, you see, are shy.”
“Shy?” Athena didn’t believe Adam had a shy bone in all his body.
“Believe me,” Harry answered. “Adam far prefers quiet and solitude and does not at all enjoy interacting with those who are not part of his most intimate circle of acquaintances. He has always covered those tendencies by making everyone too afraid to approach him.”
They had reached the ballroom. As always, Harry had managed to keep Athena’s thoughts off her troubles long enough to allow her to approach the crisis without worrying herself into a dither. What would she do without Harry?
“Where is Adam?” The Dowager Duchess’s voice sounded almost before they’d entered the ballroom.
“He is seeing to a rather urgent item of business,” Harry answered, squeezing Athena’s hand, almost as if he knew she found the Dowager nearly as intimidating as she found Adam. “I have been sent as his less-desirable stand-in.”
“Don’t say that,” Athena replied, struck by the realization that, while he uttered the self-deprecating comment with a smile, there was something like sincerity touching his tone. She lowered her voice, hoping the Dowager wouldn’t overhear. “I would far rather dance with you than with him.”
There was something strangely brokenhearted in the smile he offered her in response. She didn’t take her eyes from his face as he turned to speak to the Dowager.
“What is this I hear, Mother Harriet, about a minuet?” he asked.
“It is to be the opening dance at Athena’s ball, and I wished to see her dance it.”
“But Athena does not like to dance the minuet,” Harry answered.
“It is the most elegant choice,” the Dowager countered.
“But, as this ball is in honor of Athena, I think the wisest choice would be the dance that she most enjoys. If she and Adam are both miserable,” Harry continued, “you would not be setting a very promising tone for her ball.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” the Dowager replied. She sounded promisingly reflective.
Athena let her gaze slide between the Dowager and Harry. Had Harry convinced her to change her plans? Was Athena to be spared “ordeal by minuet”?
“What would you suggest instead?” the Dowager asked.
“While Adam generally selects a minuet when he stands up with his wife, I believe he would not object to a quadrille, if Persephone and I made up the remainder of the set,” Harry said. Athena felt herself smile—she liked the quadrille. And to have Harry in the set with her would put her mind at ease. “I have seen Athena dance the quadrille, and I do believe she would appear very much to advantage should that be your choice.”
“I would agree,” Persephone added to the discussion. Athena hadn’t even noticed her there.
Athena knew it was the Dowager’s opinion that counted most. The minuet would be endurable, but the idea of simply enduring her come-out ball was beyond depressing. Athena had dreamed of a ball of her own since she was very young. She wished it to be magical, to be wonderfully delightful. The quadrille would be a vast improvement.
“The minuet would have been best,” the Dowager said.
Athena hoped it was the start of a concession. She held Harry’s arm a little more tightly.
“I believe a quadrille would do fine,” the Dowager finished. “Persephone and I could certainly rearrange the order of dances.”
“We certainly could,” Persephone replied.
Athena released the tense breath she’d been all but holding. “Bless you, Harry,” she whispered, leaning against his arm a little. He had just rescued a portion of her dreams. Now, if only he could find a wonderful sort of gentleman to introduce her to—one who would sweep her off her feet. But he didn’t have a very promising record.
Chapter 15
Harry knew his time was up. Falstone House was filling with the most exalted members of society: the wealthy, the influential, the socially superior, and, to his detriment, the eligible. Not being an actual member of the family, Harry had watched from a distance the constant introductions undertaken in the receiving line. Though he would have liked to, Harry could find no glaring objections to the gentlemen Athena was meeting.
Mr. Rigby was among the attendees. Like the faithful “suitor sorter” that he was, Harry had told Adam of the rumors he’d heard regarding Mr. Rigby’s pending financial doom. Adam was investigating, but nothing had been determined yet. So, Rigby was permitted to remain amongst the throng of admirers vying for Athena’s attention.
Harry managed to smile at the guests accumulating in vast quantities, all the while resigning himself to polishing his I’m-entirely-happy-about-this face. He would need it during the remainder of the Little Season and would have to fight to hold on to the mask once Athena selected her future husband. Perhaps he ought to consider a tour of the East Indies. Precisely how he would fund such an expedition, Harry couldn’t say.
“Any word on the possibility of a royal appearance?” Lord Devereaux asked in an undertone.
Harry smiled, despite the weight settling in his chest. Even the new Viscount Devereaux—only recently out of deepest mourning over the passing of his father—had come to Athena’s ball and not, Harry was certain, for dancing nor for the exalted company. Lord Devereaux was gaining the respect of his Peers in Lords, young though he was and newly ascended to his title, but the young viscount was not overly active in society. His wife was never seen. The mysterious lady, it seemed, preferred the country to the absolute exclusion of London.
“The royal response was vague, at best,” Harry replied. “Whether or not the prince intends to grace the gathering is, as yet, unknown.”
“And whether or not the Infamous Duke will welcome our prince is also, I would imagine, unknown.”
“That is the reason for the unprecedented crush you find yourself in the midst of.” Harry motioned around the ever-more-crowded ballroom.
“I would imagine His Grace’s sister-in-law had something to do with the evening’s success.” Lord Devereaux’s eyes drifted back to the receiving line, only then breaking up to mark the official beginning of the evening’s festivities. “She seems to be a lovely young lady, well-mannered and genteel.”
“She is,” Harry readily agreed; Devereaux was married, after all.
“She strikes me as being a little uncomfortable in such a large gathering,” Devereaux added.
“She will find her footing once she has had the opportunity to grow accustomed to Town ways and expectations.” Harry watched Athena as she entered the ballroom on Adam’s arm. She was most certainly uncomfortable, though the smile she wore would have fooled all but the most observant.
“Let us hope, then,” Lord Devereaux said, something like regret mingled with frustration in his tone, “that she is willing to try. Not all ladies will make the effort.”
A rather cryptic declaration, Harry thought, especially as it was uttered as Lord Devereaux walked away. It seemed Harry’s was not to be the only story that lacked a happy ending.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Persephone motion minutely. It was time to open the ball and, as the quadrille had been quite universally agreed upon amongst the interested parties, he was being called into service.
Adam was putting on a good show, Harry would give him that. But no one would ever accuse him of enjoying himself. Poor Athena, Harry thought. She was so very sensitive and, no doubt, assumed Adam’s disgruntled attitude was somehow her fault. Her eyes darted in his direction, and Harry offered a reassuring smile.
“She doesn’t appear to be any happier about this than I am,” Adam muttered under his breath.
Harry smiled. “She is nervous, Adam,” he answered, also sotto voce. “Try not to look so entirely irritated when Daphne has her come-out.”
Adam’s eyes snapped to Harry, wide for a fraction of a moment, before his usual annoyed expression returned. “I’m placing Daphne
in a convent,” he declared almost silently.
“She is not Catholic,” Harry replied.
“I don’t care.”
The music began, and thus the dancing, ending the very entertaining conversation. Harry had suspected that Adam had grown fond of Daphne. The fact that Adam had very nearly appeared panicked at the thought of Daphne looking for a husband confirmed the suspicion.
“Smile, my dear,” Harry whispered to Athena as the movements of the dance crossed their paths with one another. “You look beautiful and are doing very, very well.”
Her smile was equal parts gratitude and nerves. Harry managed to continue with the movements of the dance despite his almost overwhelming desire to pull Athena into his embrace until she looked at ease once more. Her father, Harry understood, had never taken an active role in the lives of his children, and Adam was notoriously aloof and intimidating. If Harry didn’t miss his mark, Athena needed reassurance, but there had seldom been anyone to offer it. The fact that she had retained as much optimism and hope as she had was testament to her strength of character.
“Is she going to survive?” Persephone asked as she and Harry met up once more.
“Absolutely,” Harry answered. With a kind and considerate husband, Athena would thrive. It was a depressing thought. What he wouldn’t give to have been that lucky gentleman.
“Are you going to survive?”
But Harry wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard the whispered question correctly. Persephone had moved a little too far away for him to be certain. Before he was near enough again to ask her to repeat the perplexing comment, an enormous distraction arrived in the form of the ever-expanding Prince of Wales.
Adam muttered a profanity just vulgar enough to make Harry laugh out loud. The assembled guests would have a show, that was for sure and certain.
At the arrival of the prince and his entourage—noticeably thin of members, due, no doubt, to the uncertainty of Adam’s reaction to His Royal Highness’s arrival—the music, and thus the dancing, had come to an abrupt and somewhat awkward stop. The guests had parted, as was customary, every pair of eyes darting between Adam and the royal guest.
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