Page 44 of His Darling Duchess
Aurelia smiled, feeling her heart swell with affection for her husband. He had still not come to her bed, but they were growing closer, coming to know each other better with every day that passed. He was gentle with her, kind and patient if she asked questions about the duchy, and she knew from the way he looked at her that he admired her. She was content to be patient, sure that he had her best interests at heart.
The ball was a resounding success. The guests were in awe of the grandeur of the Stowe townhouse, the glittering jewels adorning Aurelia, and the way that she and Stowe looked at each other.
There was one sticky moment after they came off the dance floor together, having led out the couples for the first dance, when an older lady sniffed at them and said;
"Married couples dancing together, well I never. Don't care about scandal, the pair of you!"
Stowe was even then being drawn aside by some of his peers from the House of Lords, asking for his attention, so Aurelia was briefly along, the centre of all eyes. She hesitated for a moment, but then caught her mother's eye.
No, she thought. They don't get to judge me. Especially this old cat... a mere dowager viscountess!
Arching her neck proudly, she peered at the older woman with a thoughtful look of inquiry, as though she did not quite recollect who the woman was. And then, calmly and deliberately, she stuck her nose in the air, turned her back and walked away.
"The cut direct!" she heard a gasp go up behind her, the old viscountess gave a muffled cry of distress, and all of a sudden the mood changed. Nobody wanted to be cut by a duchess. Heads were inclined politely as Aurelia passed, curtsies were quickly dipped, and Lady Lymsey smiled triumphantly.
Aurelia felt a sense of satisfaction as she made her way about the room and finally back to Stowe's side. She knew she had done the right thing by standing up for herself and not allowing anyone to judge her and her husband. Stowe looked at her with a mix of admiration and amusement, clearly impressed by her boldness.
"You handled that well," he whispered in her ear.
Aurelia smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words. She was proud of herself, and it felt good to know that Stowe was proud of her too.
As the night went on, Aurelia found herself swept up in the whirl of the ball. She danced with Stowe, with his friends, with the most eligible bachelors in the room. She laughed and chatted and felt more alive than she had in a long time. It was as though she was finally coming into her own as the Duchess of Stowe.
Towards the end of the evening, however, she began to flag. She had been too nervous to eat much, and though she had sensibly refrained from drinking any wine, it had been a long day and she was growing tired. The heavy jewels at her brow and throat weren't helping, and the room was hot.
"Thank you, Jason," she murmured, taking a glass of cool lemonade an attentive footman offered. "I am just going to step onto the terrace for a moment, if you should happen to see His Grace or my mother looking for me."
"Very good, Your Grace. I'll wait here and advise them if either of them come by," the footman said with a bow, and she gave him a little smile and slipped out the open French doors into the cool night.
It was February, but dry; there was frost in the air but no icy wind. Aurelia walked to the edge of the terrace and took a few bracing gulps of air. Two minutes, she told herself, and then she had best go back in, or she'd become chilled. No wonder nobody else was out here; it was too cold!
But she was wrong, she realised a moment later as a shadow moved close by, a tall figure stepping away from the wall.
"What are you doing lurking out here, Rhys, are you hiding from the crowd?" she said with a teasing smile. Her husband was the only man present at the ball so tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair tousled.
"Mistaking me for your husband already?" a voice murmured silkily, and Aurelia froze, her eyes searching the shadowed face.
It couldn't be, surely... "Grantleigh?" she whispered, stunned at his audacity.
"Nice to know you haven't forgotten me." He moved closer, light from the ballroom falling across his features, revealing his twisted smile. "You look well. Duchess."
The intonation he put on her title was horrible, and Aurelia fought the urge to cringe before him, or to turn tail and flee.
"You are very foolish to come here," she returned, fighting to keep her voice steady, though her hands were shaking. "Stowe will kill you if he catches you."
"He took what's mine." Grantleigh was right in front of her now, towering over her. He reached out, touched a finger to the huge sapphire nestled in the hollow of her throat. "But I shall have it all back, and more. You. These jewels. The dukedom. All of it."
"You're mad," she whispered, and as he dared to trail his finger downward to touch the upper swell of her breast, she folded her fist as Stowe had painstakingly coached her and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach.
Grantleigh huffed out a startled, pained cough, bending over sharply, and Aurelia took the opportunity to leap away and scurry back to the terrace doors, expecting to feel at every step his rough hand on her shoulder. She reached the safety of the ballroom and spun on the threshold, chest heaving as her heart thundered with panic, but the terrace was empty.
Grantleigh had vanished into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
Aurelia stood by theentrance to the ballroom, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the swirl of glittering gowns and crisp tailcoats. The thought of Lord Grantleigh's presence weighed heavily upon her mind like a storm cloud on the horizon, threatening to cast a shadow over the night's festivities. But as she took in the sight of the dancing couples, the gleam of candlelight on polished silver, and the delicate strains of the orchestra, she resolved not to let the knowledge spoil the evening for Rhys.
"Tonight," she whispered to herself, "is for us."
