Mrs. Donnelly returned within moments and handed Eliza a silver tray containing a single invitation.
“Thank you,” she said to the housekeeper.
Mrs. Donnelly bowed. “Please let me know if there will be anything else.” She slipped back into the house without a sound.
Eliza picked up the cream paper and set the tray down on the table nearly upsetting her glass of lemonade as she wasn’t looking. Louisa and Johanna vacated their chairs and hurried to lean over Eliza’s shoulder and read the invitation.
The invitation was simple in design, drawing the viewer’s attention to the script, for the script was the true masterpiece.
The Duke of Ashbourne requests your presence at the traditional Ashbourne summer ball where he is proud to introduce his new wife, the Duchess of Ashbourne.
Your reply is appreciated.
The words were direct and simple, the remainder of the invitation detailing the specifics of the ball, but Eliza could see none of it.
Where he is proud to introduce his wife.
“Dear God, he’s recreated the ball where he was humiliated.” Johanna pressed a hand to her mouth as if surprised she had uttered the words.
Eliza blinked and read the invitation again, but the words remained the same.
“Surely, he can’t think—” Louisa choked on the words, swallowed, and tried again. “He doesn’t think you won’t show because of what he did. Does he?”
“More importantly, will you?”
Eliza shook her head and raised a hand, silencing them both. “One at a time. What did you say?”
It took a physical effort to pull herself from the words of the invitation, and she hadn’t understood either sister.
“Would you truly not show to the ball because he kissed Lady Isley?” Louisa’s eyes were wider than usual.
“Of course, I wouldn’t. It’s my duty to—” She stopped, the words catching in her throat.
“He thought Lady Isley showing to her proposal ball was a given as well,” Johanna whispered the very thing racing through Eliza’s mind.
“And she humiliated him.” Louisa took the invitation and held it closer, studying it. “He’s made the ball about you now instead of a mere tradition. The guests will be satisfied with nothing but you. No food, drink, or music will suffice as a substitute.”
Johanna released a breath. “He’s given you all the power.”
Eliza’s hands strayed to her stomach again, and she realized her sisters were right. Somehow in the past few weeks, cradling the baby she held within her had started to bring her comfort. It was a wonder Dax didn’t already suspect.
And now this.
“Power?” Eliza questioned, although she feared she already knew what her sister meant.
Johanna crouched in front of her, meeting her gaze. “He’s letting you decide, Eliza. He’s telling you he wants to trust someone again, and he’s leaving it up to you.”
Eliza licked her lips. “But I would never neglect my duty.”
“This isn’t about duty.” Johanna stood and took the invitation from Louisa. “This is about love.”
“What am I supposed to do about that then?” She blinked up at the pair of them as they hovered over her.
Louisa’s smile was quick. “We must ensure Mrs. Fletcher’s gown for you is spectacular.”
* * *
The gown was indeed spectacular, far more beautiful than anything Eliza had acquired at a modiste in London.
It was constructed of the finest sapphire silk that showcased her complexion the way it was always meant to be with her dark hair appearing alluring and lush, her creamy skin kissed by the sun until she simply glowed. The generous neckline would once have done nothing more than amplify her shortcomings, but now she filled it out quite nicely, and dare she say, she had actual womanly bits.
It was a marvel of some proportion, but she was too distracted by the rest of the gown. Mrs. Fletcher had done a clever fold of the fabric across her midriff, concealing the soft roundness that had developed there in the past week. The skirts flared in a tantalizing bell. There was nothing to be said except the silhouette of the gown made Eliza appear voluptuous for the first time in her life.
She cradled the babe within her, speaking softly. “I suppose motherhood suits me.”
“It certainly does.”
She started at the sound of Louisa’s voice behind her as she’d been studying her reflection in her dressing room mirror.
Louisa looked exquisite as always, but her eyes were just a bit damp with unshed tears. Johanna gawked from behind her.
“You look beautiful.” Johanna’s tone was one of disbelief.
Eliza turned back to the mirror. “Do you really think so?”
Johanna stepped into the room and joined her in front of the mirror. “All this time, this is what you truly look like and none of us knew.”
“I think Ashbourne knew.” Louisa spoke the words from behind them, and they turned to her. Her smile was soft as she said, “It’s time for you to join your husband in the receiving line.”
Eliza’s stomach clenched at the words.
The day of the ball had dawned with rain striking the windows, a storm pushing in off the sea. It had cleared quickly though, leaving a refreshing coolness about that beckoned the coming arrival of fall. She wasn’t sure how the summer had passed so quickly or how it could have been such a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn’t have guessed what would have happened when Viv had returned to see her sisters safely wed.
Eliza certainly hadn’t expected Dax.
She drew a fortifying breath and gathered her skirts.
“What must be done must be done.” She kissed each of them of the cheek with a promise to meet up with them later and went out in the hall to make her way to the vestibule where they were to receive their guests.
She was nearly to the front hall when the rumble of carriages reached her, and she peeked out the nearest window. She blinked, unsure if she’d seen correctly. There was already a line snaking its way down the drive of the finest carriages she’d ever witnessed. Each one was more dazzling than the first.
She turned her attention to the clock standing guard at the top of the stairs and was shocked to find it was hardly the hour when the ball was to begin. Lud, to think of the crush that awaited them already.
She hastened her step, making her way down to the vestibule without pausing, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. It was why she wasn’t thinking when she stepped down onto the marble floor and nearly collided with Dax.
“Oh.” The sound was light and breathless in the cavernous space, and she drew back involuntarily, picking up her skirts as she did so.
Dax was as she’d expected him to be, but still, it took her breath away. Gorgeous was the word her sisters had used, and Eliza knew it to be fitting. He was dressed all in black with only the white of his cravat to offset it, and it only served to make him appear more intimidating.
But the way he looked at her stopped her heart.
His gaze was intense, but it was the shock of his parted lips that drew her attention. She’d surprised him. It was writ across his face, and for one silly moment, pride and triumph surged through her.
How silly. Such things were so terribly superficial, and yet, she’d never felt pretty. When Dax looked at her then, she did though, and it felt so, so terribly good.
“Hello, Dax,” she said with a soft smile.
He opened his mouth, but he said nothing, his lips closing on air as he continued to stare.
It was as if she stood at the top of a waterfall, and the energy of the falling water pulsed beneath her feet. Anticipation thrummed through her, and her breath quickened. Something was about to happen. She didn’t know what or how she could possibly know that, but she did. She could feel it. It was in the intensity of her husband’s gaze, the way her hands shook ever so slightly against her skirts, in the way she couldn’t quite seem to draw a full breath.
She knew he had meant to recreate the ball where he’d suffered his humiliation, but there was something else unsaid.
He held out a hand to her, a smile coming to his lips.
He wasn’t going to tell her what more there was. It seemed he was going to show her.
He drew her hand through his elbow, bringing her closer to him than she’d been since that night he’d kissed her so abruptly. Her heart raced, and she had to swallow to regain her composure.
“Hello, Eliza.” The way he spoke her name was deep and inviting, and it sent a thrill racing down her spine.
She knew that voice, but she’d never heard it outside of their bedroom walls. She shivered and tightened her grip on his arm.
“Guests have already begun to arrive.” She barely got the words out, and then, she didn’t know why she spoke them. Were they a warning for him or for her?
He leaned closer, his smile going up on one side. “Unfortunately.”
He spoke only the single word, and it was enough to leave her raw. Before she could find out what he meant or what it was he planned, he swept her down the hall to where they would stand to receive their guests and gave Stephens the nod to open the door.
Peeling each layer of clothing from her body would not have left her wanting more than she did then.
What had he meant when he said it was unfortunate the guests had arrived? What was it he had planned? What did he mean to show her?
It was all she could do to maintain her composure as he introduced her to dukes and duchesses, earls and countesses, barons and viscounts. It seemed no one wanted to miss an opportunity to see just who had caught the Jilted Duke.
She couldn’t blame them. She was just as surprised as they were, likely more even.
Here she was, once the most common wallflower, now standing beside Daxton Kane, the Duke of Ashbourne, as his wife. Nothing could have surprised her more.
At least, she thought there wasn’t until after an interminable time later, the receiving line had dwindled, and the first strands of music filtered through the air. Without a word, Dax took her arm again, and she squared her shoulders preparing to enter the ballroom and join the rest of their guests.
Propriety would have Dax selecting someone of appropriate standing with whom to partner for the first dance, and she turned, hoping to find Sebastian. If she were to start the dancing, she would at least have someone with whom she could converse.
Only Dax never released her arm.
Instead he drew her out on the dance floor with him, sweeping her into his arms as he prepared them for a waltz.
Her breath froze in her lungs, and she felt the hundreds of gazes of a crowded ballroom upon her. The whispers started almost immediately, and even over the notes of the violin and the thrum of a cello she could hear them.
A husband never danced with his wife unless he were showing her undue attention. By dancing with her now at the start of their ball, Dax was showing everyone just how important Eliza was.
If she had felt beautiful before, she felt invincible now. Heads turned, whispers died away, and the entire attention of the crowd was on her.
So she raised her chin and smiled.
He returned her smile as he swept her into the first turn of the waltz as the orchestra soared to life. Soon others melted onto the dance floor, but she didn’t notice them. She saw only her husband and the way he watched her as he carried them across the floor.
One dance became another and another, and soon she was handed off from one partner to the next. A duke here and an earl there and then a marquess. Never before had she been so popular a partner as she was that night, but even as she moved from gentleman to gentleman, something wasn’t quite right.
Her eyes searched for Dax among the crowd, and only once in a while did she catch sight of him. He did his duties as host, dancing with all of the appropriate partners and conversing with the men in the card room.
Never one to ignore a suspicion, she couldn’t help but notice the lingering unease that sat on her shoulders. Finally, Sebastian took pity on her and stepped in to partner her in a quadrille, which upon finishing, he escorted her directly to the refreshment table where she was swallowed up by her sisters.
They handed her a glass of lemonade and pushed her into a chair, her feet sobbing with the relief of sitting.
It was Sebastian who spoke. “You’re a lot like a pair of oxen I know.”
She blinked up at him but couldn’t stop the smile when both of her sisters gasped.
“That’s rather rude,” Johanna exclaimed.
Eliza raised her glass. “There is a magnificent pair of oxen on the estate that I would quite enjoy being compared to.”
Louisa only shook her head, making a tsking noise as she studied Sebastian with rapt attention.
“Still, it’s rather not done.” Johanna put her hands to her hips as if to emphasize her point.
Sebastian waved a hand carelessly. “Have you seen the work a pair of oxen can accomplish? I’m not sure there’s a higher compliment than being compared to one.”
As riveting as this line of conversation was, the unease began to prickle its way up her arms once more, and she interjected, “Has anyone seen Ashbourne?”
“He was at the whist table with the Earl of Westin last I saw. Shall I fetch him?” Louisa offered.
Eliza shook her head and stood, giving her empty lemonade glass to her sister.
“No, I shouldn’t have you fret yourself. It will be nice to have a turn about the place after so much dancing.” She tossed a smile in Sebastian’s direction, which he returned with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
She made her way across the room to where the ballroom spilled into a suite of drawing rooms that had been set up with gaming tables. The room was hazy with the smoke of men’s cheroots and pipes, and the din of voices was even greater than the ballroom proper.
She took only a couple of hesitant steps within, sure Dax couldn’t be found inside, when motion to her left caught her eye. There was a corridor just off the card rooms that led to the retiring rooms, and there she saw Dax, standing with his back to the gaming tables as Stephens handed him a tray with a folded piece of paper atop it.
The prickle of unease exploded into a roar as she saw Dax take the paper, open it, and read it as if it contained a message. He nodded in the affirmative to Stephens, who gave a bow and departed. Dax turned, tucking the paper into his pocket and slipped out into the corridor.
She followed, of course. Dax didn’t know about the day Bethany had confronted her on the beach as there hadn’t been an occasion to tell him. She was alert to the undercurrents, and feeling the sway of betrayal, she slipped into the corridor just moments after her husband.
His footsteps were silent as he made his way from the ballroom, moving ever deeper into the house, silence growing around them. She realized with a jolt he was going to his study. She hung back, letting the space between them grow as she knew which way to go. When he did, indeed, enter his study, she paused.
Perhaps she had been wrong.
It could have been a message of urgent business, and Sheridan had requested his presence.
She moved to take a step back when her heel caught on a bit of fabric. She bent and picked up the white, starched bit of linen. It was a handkerchief. Her first inclination was to hold it to her nose to discover the telltale scent of perfume, but she paused. The handkerchief was plain and unadorned, not that of a lady’s at all.
It was at that moment that footsteps behind her had her swinging about. She pressed a hand to her jumping heart when she found George the footman coming down the corridor with a metal bucket used for cleaning the hearths.
“Your Grace,” he said upon seeing her.
She smiled. “George, would you please go let Henry out of my room? He’ll be able to find me, and I believe I shall need him. Do hurry please.”
George set down the bucket where he stood and with a wave took off in the direction of their personal quarters.<
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Clutching the handkerchief in her palm, she strode down the corridor and without hesitation entered her husband’s study.
Chapter 17
He had prepared for a backhanded attempt such as this, and so he wasn’t at all surprised when Stephens had appeared with the note from Bethany.
He’d read it quickly, even less surprised to find its contents rather appalling, and without hesitation had gone to put an end to the nonsense. He wasn’t sure how, as he was quite certain Bethany would not see reason or fact, but he had to stop her from meddling in his life.
It no longer mattered if she had hoped for a future that saw them together. It no longer mattered if her father had accepted another offer for her hand. It only mattered that he loved his wife. Eliza was right. He had had to let Bethany go if he were ever to love again, and he had. Only it had taken betraying the trust of his wife to realize it.
He was righting that wrong now, and he wanted nothing more to do with Bethany when he strode into his study.
He didn’t bother with a greeting as he shut the door behind him.
“Using threats of violence to get my attention,” he said, holding up the note she had sent him.
“It is only a threat against myself.” She was crying already, and her voice was wet with tears.
“I don’t believe you,” he said calmly. “You’ve never been one for expending unnecessary effort. What is it you really want?”
At some point in his walk from the ballroom, he’d come to realize Bethany could very well be playing this game now because she wanted something else. Perhaps it was to humiliate Eliza for taking the place she saw as rightfully hers. Or perhaps it was for something far more sinister. He had to remember that and keep the space between them.
This was something better thought in practice than in reality because she launched herself at him the first chance she got. He stood just inside the door with the clutter of the study between them. She took no notice, knocking into a side table and spilling the basket of odds and ends beneath it as she made her way over to him.
The Duke and the Wallflower Page 22
