FelicityandAshsteppedthrough the doors of the ballroom at Chesterfield Hall, her brother, Felix, and her mother ahead of them currently being announced by the Chesterfield butler. Her fingers dug into Ash’s arm and she released a slow breath as they stepped up to the butler.
“His Grace the Duke of Devonford and Her Grace the Duchess of Devonford.” The servant’s deep baritone resonated through the crowded ballroom. The crowded ballroom that went quiet in a wave of ceasing sound.
Felicity lifted her chin, her smile unbreakable. The best way to fight the gossips, the tongue-waggers, was to be as polite and proper andboringas ever. She and Ash made their way through the receiving line to the Chesterfields, every eye in the ballroom on them, the gazes as searing as a branding iron.
“Are you well?” Ash murmured for her ears alone.
“Yes.” She turned to face him, her smile momentarily fading as she put all her love into the gaze she sent his way. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side.” Her lips curved up in a half-smile. “They could toss me out on my arse and I wouldn’t care. As long as I am with you, I have everything I need.”
His face flashed in a rare, devastating grin. Not so rare anymore. At least not with her. Gasps surrounded them. One woman swooned. Felicity barely prevented the roll of her eyes. The ladies of London were unused to her reclusive duke’s presence.
“Fortunately, there is no risk of that. Chesterfield is an old friend. He was only two years behind me at Eton.”
She playfully bumped his shoulder with her own and waggled her brows. “That and their love story isn’t much less scandalous than ours.”
He let out a low hum. “True, at least we meant to get married.” He caught her gaze from the corner of his eye, his lips turning up in a smirk.
“What are you grinning about, Devonford? Rumor has it that you don’t remember how.” Lord Chesterfield’s rich, friendly tone drew her and Ash’s attention to their hosts.
Lord Chesterfield was a handsome man with blond hair that, even at his age, fell in roguish waves, a touch of silver glinting at his temples. Ash clasped hands with their host and nodded in greeting. “I may have more reason to as of late.”
Felicity’s heart melted.
Lady Chesterfield fanned herself and shot Felicity a wink, the red and orange feathers adorning the woman’s rich brown hair fluttering like flames with the movement. The woman’s warm brown eyes sparkled with a fire similar to the one evoked by her coiffure as she and Felicity exchanged greetings and curtsies.
“Congratulations on your nuptials, Your Grace,” Lady Chesterfield said. “I cannot put into words the delight I experienced when Your Graces accepted our invitation and granted us the honor of being the first to host you two in London.” Lady Chesterfield leaned forward and murmured, “We love to embrace the scandal, as you very well know from our own marriage that caused quite the stir. And I have to say, the way that man looks at you?” She let out a small shiver. “Every woman deserves to be looked at like that. We stand behind you. If anyone gives you trouble tonight, you let us know.”
“Thank you, Lady Chesterfield. We Jennings have always valued our families’ shared ideals, and now, in this, the Duke and I are especially grateful for your support.”
“I hate to intrude, Lady Chesterfield, but I must steal my wife away,” Ash said.
Lady Chesterfield shot Felicity a knowing look as Ash whisked her away.
“You had to steal me away, husband? Whatever for?”
Ash leaned close to her ear, his breath skimming over the sensitive skin. “I find myself desperate to be touching you and remind this sea of presumptuous coves exactly who you belong to.”
Felicity’s gaze whipped to his. Not once in their year together had Asheversaid anything so possessive. And she couldn’t say she hated it.
“Did you know, Your Grace,” she said softly. “The Chesterfield balls tend to…inspire all sorts of unseemly behavior? I have heard of thewildestthings happening in their drawing rooms.”
His deep blue eyes darkened to ocean black. “Are you propositioning me, Duchess?”
She lifted her brows and sent him a sly closed-lipped smile. “Perhaps.”
Felicity’s gaze caught on a flash of bright yellow in the crowd, and her face split into a grin. Lady Rutledge sauntered toward her, lips kicked up in a knowing curve, nearly blindingly yellow skirts drawing quite a few stares. Or perhaps it was the coiffure, which was decorated with vines and greenery and brought to mind the image of Eve in the garden of Eden.
Ash turned iron-stiff next to her and her gaze immediately went to his. And then followed his stare to the man next in line to be announced by the Chesterfield butler.
“Go,” she murmured.
His stare darted to hers before shooting back to Sam. “Will you be well? On your own?”
A soft snort escaped her, and the corner of his lips tugged the tiniest amount. “Oh please, love. Am I your goddess of war or not? Pray, don’t insult me.”
He turned back to her, a full smile spreading across his face. “My Freya.” He reached up and drew his knuckles down the curve of her jaw. He held her like that, chin cradled in his hand, gaze trapped in his smoldering blue eyes. The height of impropriety,scandalous.
She was sure tongues were wagging even more so about them now. But all she felt was pity for those poor people. Because they would never know what it was to experience a love so potent, so profound, that it spoke without words, conveyed with unmistakable clarity with nothing but a gaze.
