Two nights later was the final ball of the Season, hosted by Lord and Lady Bellmond. Leah was excited for the ball. It was a welcome distraction, considering the imperfections in her marriage. Things had been better with Dorian ever since their conversation in his study and over dinner.
He had regularly attended breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with her while they were in the country and had dutifully made conversation with her. But while these were light and often friendly, they had not approached the level of intimacy that they had shared the night he’d told her about his sister.
She wondered, as she looked at herself in the mirror that evening while she prepared for the ball, if she ought to tell himwhat her brother had told her. But she didn’t want to upset him or bring up bad memories.
She sighed as she raised a hand to the curls that had been expertly coiffed by her maid. She thought she looked rather beautiful tonight--which was not often something she felt. But of course, this was tempered by the fact she was sure Dorian would not be attending the ball with her. When she’d asked him about it, he had been noncommittal. And she had a feeling he wouldn’t want to stoke any rumors of theirs being a love match.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Leah looked up.
“Come in,” she called out. The maid had probably forgotten something. But when the door opened, she was surprised to see her husband.
She was even more surprised to see that he was dressed in the finest evening attire she had ever seen. The black velvet coat, the rich blue waistcoat, and the startlingly white, perfect starched cravat only emphasized his slightly wanton handsomeness. Although she now knew he was no rake, he still looked every bit the part, with his slightly disheveled hair, his stormy eyes, and the high , elegant cheekbones.
He had never looked so handsome, and as she gazed at him--their eyes meeting in the mirror at her vanity--she felt her heart tremble. In fact, her whole body trembled.
Why can’t he just let me in?
“Good evening,” she said, as he took a step into the room. When he didn’t answer, she stood up, turning to face him, and brushed down her dress. His eyes lingered on it, then came back up to her face. She felt self-conscious.
He still hadn’t spoken, and she wondered wildly if he was displeased with the dress. It was not her usual color. Usually she didn’t wear such deep red. But as the autumn approached, she had thought that it would be appropriate.
“You’re dressed as if you are coming with me,” she said, eyeing his evening attire. “But I thought you weren’t interested in this ball.”
Still, he said nothing. His eyes were like little fires, and she wondered what exactly was burning in them.
“Please speak to me,” she said after a moment. “If it’s the dress, if you think it isn’t elegant enough--”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Dorian murmured. His voice was low and syrupy, and it made her heart beat faster. “You look stunning.”
She swallowed.Does he really mean that?It was hard to believe that was the reason he was really staring at her with such intensity.
“Thank you,” she managed at last.
“Truly,” he said, blinking slowly. “I am in awe of your beauty tonight. That color suits you very well.”
She said nothing. Every inch of her felt as if it were on fire--from both pleasure and embarrassment. She was not used to receiving compliments like this.
“There is just one thing…” he began slowly. He walked toward her, then around her, coming to stand behind her.
“What are you--?” she began, but before she could finish, he had brought his hands to her neck and was undoing the clasp on the chunky pearl necklace she had donned for the occasion.
Leah couldn’t breathe. His hands were at her throat, moving carefully, his fingers occasionally touching the back of her neck and making her shudder. She could see it all taking place in the mirror: his studied concentration, his large hands contrasted against her delicate neck and collarbones.
Then the clasp was open, and he was removing the necklace, setting it on the vanity. She felt faint. Never before had he touched her like this, had he been this intimate with her.
“I brought something else for you,” he whispered. From his pocket, he produced a small box. Opening it, he drew out the most beautiful gold necklace Leah had ever seen. She almost gasped. It was an elegant gold necklace--more dainty and delicate than the pearl one--with rubies set along it.
“How did you know I would wear red?” she murmured, as he placed it around her neck. But all thought and all questions disappeared as his fingers traced--quite unnecessarily--along her skin. Where he touched her, she felt as if she had been burned, but by the most exquisite fire she could ever imagine.
“I didn’t,” he murmured, his lips right by her ear. His hands came to the back of her neck again, and he did up the clasp. Once more, his hands settled on her skin--this time on her shoulders--and he looked up into the mirror, his eyes meeting hers. “That’s better.”
And he was right: this necklace suited the dress, the neckline, and her decollete much better. But none of that mattered. She would have worn something gaudy and ugly if it meant he touched her like that.
At last, he took a step back, releasing her shoulders. At once, she missed his hands there.
“Thank you,” she said, touching the necklace with her hand. “It’s very beautiful.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, smiling slyly, and for a moment, he looked like he had before they married: like the same arrogant, flirtatious man who had taught her to come out of her shell. Maybe that’s why she said what she said next.
