Page 87 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
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The night fell in soft whisper, the orchestra played their violins, and the finest lords and ladies of thehaut tonflittered about, oblivious that their duke stood by the sidelines, an empty husk. He only attended at the entreaty of his mother. Tomorrow he would retire to the countryside and prepare for Parliament’s sitting.
And grieve.
He would roar and grieve but he would not allow it to consume him, for once again he would need to learn to survive an impossible odd—existing in the world without Jules Southby. The laughter, facile chattering, and happiness in the palatial ballroom mocked his agony. James could feel a dark, hollow space inside his chest, and pain dug in its claws and widened that hole each second that ticked by.
His butler appeared in his periphery, in clear need of an audience. The duchess frowned and was about to make her way over when James walked away from the crowd and toward him.
“Is there a problem, Britton?”
His butler cleared his throat. “The duchess was very clear in her instructions, Your Grace. Only those with an invitation are allowed to enter the premises.”
His mother had been very clear, not wanting any scandal rags or even the noteworthy reporters present. She had been very careful in whom she selected to attend his first ball as their returned duke, hoping for the influential support of noteworthy participants in this game that must be played.
“Is this a matter that needs our intervention?” he demanded coolly.
“The lady is most insistent that she be allowed entry, Your Grace,” Britton said, disapproval coloring his tone. “I fear the disturbance of a scene, yet I also fear for her safety as this Miss Southby is unknown.”
A dart of shock went through James’s chest. “What is her name?”
“One Miss Julianna Southby, Your Grace. She claims to be an acquaintance of yours and a cousin to Mr. Jules Southby. The young lady is suspect as she is clearly without a chaperone and her manner is rather boldandthreatening.”
James could give no name to the emotions beating inside his heart. “Let her inside.”
Britton bowed sharply and departed to execute the order. James’s heart pounded like a war drum as he waited, surrounded by a sea of laughing faces and glittering ballgowns, yet feeling that desperate aloneness. James could feel his mother’s worried gaze upon him, yet he did not tear his gaze away from those steps, nor did he push himself to impatiently race to see who was this creature who presumed a connection and what was her purpose.
“Miss Julianna Southby!”
The announcement of her name barely created a ripple in the crushed ballroom. A vision of loveliness appeared on the landing, and the ground disappeared beneath James. She nervously scanned the crowd, and when she saw him, her lips parted on a wordless cry. She was breathtakingly beautifully garbed in a vibrant golden gown which clung to her upper body with mouthwatering sensuality. Her bustle was not as wide as others in the ballroom, and it accented the lush shape of the woman beneath the tightly laced corset and petticoats. Her arms were encased in white gloves, her delicate feet in golden silk slippers. The light from the chandelier played softly over her unfashionably short tresses, each strand seemingly on fire in the golden light. Her hair caressed becomingly around her chin in a riot of curls, bare of adornment except for a single flower tucked behind her ear.
It was indistinguishable, not a rose or an elegant stem anyone would recognize—a wildflower. She was enchanting, and as she descended the wide staircase James realized she had given up her entire world for him.
Equal joy and anguish clashed through James.
Why, Jules? I would have made it work, damn it.
Raw emotions burned his throat, and his hand holding the glass of champagne trembled. He could have found a footman to hand the glass or walk over to a table and set it down. James simply allowed it to crash from his fingers to the floor, uncaring of the gasps as the glass shattered.
Turning away from her was impossible, for he did not want to lose a moment of her. He vaguely became aware of everyone in the ballroom staring at him…staring at her. Silence fell in a wave, and his mother discreetly walked toward him, a panicked look on her face.
James moved forward to meet her in the center of the room, his gaze never leaving his Wildflower. Once he reached her, he glided his fingers across her temple, her brow, her nose, and her lips, uncaring of the scandalous gasps. “You are real.”
Tears burned her eyes. “Yes.”
“You are not dead.”
Her eyes widened and she swayed. “I never thought you would see that mention, James. Forgive me for the pain I must have caused you. I hastened to town as fast as I could…”
“You are here, nothing else matters.”
“I hurt you,” she said, her voice cracking. “When I think of how you must have felt seeing that news…Ineverintended it for your eyes. I cannot even close my eyes and pretend that you are gone. The pain is too much to bear yet you believed I was gone… I…oh God. I could not have endured the thought for a minute, or I would have shattered.”
She took another deep breath, peering at him with wide, luminous gaze. “The announcement to the papers was more for the professional acquaintances I have made over the years. I am sorry for it to know perhaps they will miss me, even if I was only a fleeting presence in their lives. My family will be told the full truth about it. My father…my uncle and my sister. My mother and I will reveal all to them, James, and they will help me exist as a cousin, Julianna Southby. I was never about much in society as Jules Southby to cause a ripple in thehaut ton. I got your letter…and I had to come.”
A stunningly powerful rush of tenderness went through him. “Dance with me, Wildflower.”
“Yes.”
