Page 147 of Married to a Frozen Duke
They were both laughing now, the tension of the evening finally dissipating into shared amusement at their continuing inability to navigate social events without catastrophe.
"We're terrible at being proper," Ophelia observed, leaning against his chest despite its dubious state.
"We're excellent at being memorable," Alexander corrected, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Our child will probably inherit that trait."
Mary appeared then, looking remarkably composed for someone who'd just witnessed her mistress destroy another formal occasion. "Your Grace, I've prepared a bath and a clean nightgown. Shall I help you undress?"
"Please," Ophelia said gratefully. "Though be warned, I may be sick again. This child seems to have inherited its father's sense of timing—always choosing the most inconvenient moment to make its presence known."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that slander," Alexander said with mock offense. "My timing is impeccable. It's yours that tends toward the dramatic."
Mary cleared her throat delicately. "Your Graces, perhaps these reminiscences could continue after Her Grace has changed? The evening air is getting cool, and in her condition..."
"Of course," Alexander agreed immediately. "Rest well, my love. I'll check on you later, once I've made myself presentable and ensured your brothers haven't burned down the ballroom."
As he departed, Ophelia heard him muttering something about installing protective barriers around all valuable objects before the baby arrived, which made her smile despite her exhaustion.
The process of getting ready for bed was mercifully swift, Mary's experienced hands making quick work of the elaborate gown and all its accompanying architecture. The bath was heaven, washing away the lingering nausea and embarrassment of the evening.
"If I may say so, Your Grace," Mary ventured as she helped Ophelia into her nightgown, "His Grace's reaction tonight was beautiful. Not many men would have laughed off such a situation, especially not in front of all those people."
"He's changed," Ophelia said softly, settling into bed with a sigh of relief. "When we first married, he would have been mortified beyond recovery. Now he just accepts that chaos is part of life with me."
"Or perhaps he's learned that some things matter more than dignity," Mary suggested with a smile. "Sleep well, Your Grace. Tomorrow will bring its own adventures, I'm sure."
As Mary departed, Ophelia lay in the darkness, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach, marveling at how much had changed in a year. From that disastrous wedding to tonight's equally disastrous but somehow triumphant ball, she and Alexander had traveled a journey neither had expected.
A soft knock at the connecting door hours later interrupted her musings. "Come in," she called, smiling as Alexander entered, now clean and dressed in his nightclothes.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he said, crossing to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Too much excitement," she replied, making room for him beside her. "How was the ball?"
"Continued splendidly during our absence. Your brothers had formed some sort of protective squadron around the remaining valuables, Charles was teaching Margaret the proper way to hold champagne while dancing to avoid spillage, and Frederick was telling everyone who would listen about the time I got stuck in a tree trying to retrieve a shuttlecock. The rest of the guests had a nice time and departed a while ago."
"You got stuck in a tree?"
"I was twelve and too proud to call for help. I was up there for three hours before the gardener found me."
"How did you explain it?"
"I claimed I was conducting a scientific experiment on the effects of altitude on aristocratic dignity."
Ophelia laughed, that snorting laugh he claimed to adore. "Did anyone believe you?"
"Of course not, but they pretended to, which is all that matters in society."
They lay together in comfortable silence for a moment before Alexander spoke again, his voice unusually tentative. "Do you think the baby will be like us? Terrible at formal occasions but somehow muddling through anyway?"
"Probably," Ophelia admitted. "With our combined heritage of social disasters, the poor child doesn't stand a chance at conventional dignity."
"Good," Alexander said firmly. "Conventional dignity is overrated. I much prefer our version of things."
"Our version being barely controlled chaos punctuated by moments of accidental brilliance?"
"Exactly. It's much more interesting than the alternative."
"You really have changed," Ophelia observed, turning to study his face in the moonlight. "The man I married would never have admitted that chaos could be interesting."
