Page 58 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

Annabelle’s heart thundered in her ears.

“Let them whisper whatever they please,” Lady Oakley replied with satisfaction. “Now, shall I ring for the maid, or will you make me force you into this gown myself?”

The ballroom at Southall House blazed with the light of a thousand candles. Their warm glow reflected off mirrors and crystal until the entire space seemed to dance with golden fire.

The cream of London society had assembled in their finest attire, creating a sea of silk and satin that rustled with each movement, each whispered conversation.

Annabelle stood at the entrance beside her grandmother, acutely aware of the way conversations seemed to pause as they were announced. The emerald gown fit her like a second skin, its rich color bringing out the depth of her eyes and the warm undertones of her complexion.

She had never felt more beautiful, nor more exposed.

It irritated her how self-conscious she’d become merely because she knew there was a man who would be watching her with a certain hunger in his gaze?—

“Lady Oakley, Miss Lytton,” Lord Southall appeared at their side with his characteristic charm, bowing over each of their hands inturn. “You grace my humble gathering with your presence. Miss Lytton, may I say you look absolutely radiant this evening?”

“Thank you, Lord Southall. It is truly an honor to be invited to your ball,” Annabelle replied.

Right after her response, she found herself scanning the crowd even as she spoke, searching for a particular tall figure among the assembled guests. Henry was Lord Southall’s friend. He had to be here.

The Marquess’s eyes were bright with mischievous excitement when he bowed. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Lytton. I have been dying to meet the woman who can put an iceberg like Marchwood in his place.”

“You have heard of me?” She said as a slight smile curved her lips, though her cheeks tingled with heat.

He chuckled. “Well, I have not heard much, my lady,” Everett whispered, taking her hand so he could press a kiss to the back of her hand, “but I have seen the effect you have on my friend. I’ve never seen him so… alive.”

Without realizing it, Annabelle’s eyes strayed up and across to find Henry’s gaze fixed directly on her.

Her heart began pounding harder.

“Well, thank you for inviting us to your event, my lord,” she said, looking away immediately, even as her heart pounded in her chest.

“I do hope you enjoy your evening.” The Marquess flashed a rakish grin her way before stepping back with another bow. “If you would excuse me.”

When he left, Annabelle chanced another look across the room, only to find the spot where the Duke had been standing empty.

She made to take a step but was quickly sidetracked.

“There you are, my dear Annabelle.” The voice behind her made her blood freeze in her veins, and her body tensed almost immediately.

And yet, she found herself turning slowly. Her heart sank as she faced the man she had hoped never to see again.

“Father.” The word felt foreign on her tongue after so many years of estrangement.

Benjamin Lytton, the Viscount Oakley, stood before her in an immaculate evening suit, his graying hair perfectly styled, and his pale eyes cold as winter frost. At fifty, he remained handsome in an austere way, but there was something about his presence that seemed to drain warmth from the very air.

“You look… well,” he said, though his tone suggested he found the fact somehow disappointing. His gaze swept over her gown with obvious disapproval. “Rather like your mother in that color. She always did favordramaticdisplays.”

Lady Oakley stepped forward, her voice carrying the authority of her years and position. “Benjamin. How unexpected to see you here.”

“Mother.” He acknowledged her with a stiff nod. “I thought it prudent to make an appearance, given recent… developments in our family’s circumstances.”

Annabelle felt her chest tighten then. “What developments?”

“Surely you’ve heard that Florentia has returned to London?” he responded.

Annabelle’s heart skipped a beat. “Florentia?”

“Yes. She’s quite recovered from her youthful indiscretions, I’m pleased to report.” Lord Oakley carried on, and now there was a delighted smile in his voice. “She’s become everything I hoped she might be.”

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