"Tell me about your aunt," she said, needing distraction.
"Lady Bethany Rhodes, née Montrose. My father's older sister, though she'll deny being older if asked. She married Harold Rhodes when she was eighteen, which was quite the scandal."
"Why?"
"He was in trade. Soap, specifically. Very successful soap, but still trade. My grandfather nearly disowned her, but Harold was charming and rich and eventually won everyone over. Well, everyone except my father, who never forgot the 'embarrassment' of having a merchant in the family."
"But he's Lord Rhodes now?"
"Harold made generous donations to the right causes, supported the right politicians, and eventually earned his title. He's actually quite wonderful; funny, clever, completely devoted to Bethany despite her tendency toward dramatics."
"She sounds intimidating."
"She is. But she's also fiercely protective of family. If she accepts you, and she will, because you're perfect, she'll defend you against anyone."
"And if she doesn't accept me?"
"Then we'll leave and never attend another ball again."
"You can't just abandon your social obligations!"
"I abandoned them for two years before meeting you. I can certainly abandon them again for better reasons."
As evening fell, they stopped at an inn for the night. Marianne was relieved to find it was a modest establishment, not the grand coaching inn she'd feared. But even here, the innkeeper's reaction to Alaric's name reminded her of the vast gulf between their worlds.
"Your Grace! Such an honour! Our best room, of course! Anything you require!"
"We require two rooms," Alaric said firmly. "Adjacent if possible."
"Of course, Your Grace!"
Marianne felt the weight of the innkeeper's curious gaze. A duke traveling with an unmarried woman—the gossip would spread even from here.
At dinner in their private parlor, Marianne picked at her food, nerves destroying her appetite.
"You need to eat," Alaric said gently. "You can't face London society on an empty stomach."
"I can't face London society at all. This was a terrible idea. What was I thinking?"
"You were thinking that you love me enough to brave my world."
"Love makes people do insane things."
"Yes," he agreed. "Like pretending to be my own steward and falling in love with a baker who throws pies."
"I didn't throw them. Gravity was involved."
"Gravity has been very helpful in our relationship."
"Gravity and flour."
"The foundation of all great romances."
She smiled despite her anxiety. "Tell me about the ball. Who will be there? What should I expect?"
"Everyone who matters in society, which is to say, many people who don't actually matter at all but think they do. There will be dancing; waltzes, quadrilles, country dances. There will be an elaborate dinner with...indeed, multiple forks, but I'll guide you. There will be gossip, speculation, and probably at least one dramatic scene that has nothing to do with us."
"And your aunt?"
