Robert guided her into the rhythm of the waltz, the warmth of her hand settling into his like it belonged there.
She looked up at him, and her voice was quiet when she spoke. “Thank you.”
He arched a brow, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “It looked like you needed rescuing.”
Her lips curved, that particular smirk of hers, which was sharp and sweet and absolutely maddening. “I had everything perfectly under control.”
“Of course, you did.” His voice was low, amused. “You only looked one breath away from clawing his eyes out.”
She laughed then, a breathy, vibrant sound that sent something warm rippling through his chest. She fit against him so well in the dance, yet she was anything but delicate. Her presence filled the space between them, fierce and real, her scent wrapped in lavender and something darker, something undeniablyher.
His gaze dropped to hers again, lingering. “I heard what you said to him.”
“Oh?” Her lashes lifted in mock innocence.
“I’m proud of you.” His voice dropped, more intimate now. “You were magnificent. Watching you put him in his place like that… I’ve never been so glad you married me.”
For just a second, she blinked. It seemed that he had caught off guard. But then her eyes glinted, wicked as ever. “Don’t let it go to your head, Your Grace.”
He chuckled. “Too late.”
She tilted her head, drawing him in with the mischief that always danced just beneath her words. “I wonder if you’d still be proud if I’d slapped him with my fan.”
“Utterly,” he murmured, his fingers resting more firmly at her waist. “But I’d have had to pretend to be horrified. Society demands it.”
They circled the ballroom, the music spinning around them, but Robert only saw her. He always only sawher.Every inch of her sparkled with life: the way her lips quirked, the way she leaned in just slightly when teasing him, the way her hand was so sure in his.
“You know,” she said, affecting a thoughtful tone, “you’re very smug for a man who arranged all his inkwells by height.”
He stiffened. “They were ordered by function.”
“You had them in categories.”
“Because it made sense.”
She smiled sweetly. “One of your maids moved them, didn’t she?”
He narrowed his eyes, half-glowering, half-bemused. “She kept shifting the sand tray two inches to the left.Two inches.I thought I was losing my mind.”
“Monstrous.”
“She also placed my ledger vertically.Like a novel.”
Evelyn gasped, mockingly scandalized. “A novel?Robert, say it isn’t so.”
He exhaled through his nose, biting back a grin though it tugged relentlessly at his lips. “I almost had to dismiss her.”
“Oh, I would have had her drawn and quartered.”
He met her eyes again, and this time he didn’t look away. She was laughing, but he saw the flicker of concern still beneath the humor. The shadow of the Viscount’s presence was still hovering. Robert hated that he’d let that man come within an arm’s reach of her. Hated the gall of it, the arrogance, the threat.
But she’d handled it with wit and fire and steel. And heaven help him, he was helpless before her.
He eased her closer, just slightly, careful not to attract notice from the rest of the room, and murmured, “You know, Evelyn… it terrifies me sometimes. The man I am with you.”
Her teasing faded just a shade, the levity in her gaze deepening into something more fragile, but she didn’t flinch from it.
Instead, she brushed his chest with her gloved fingertips and whispered, “Good. You should be terrified.”
