As soon as we reach the bottom, Harry is swarmed by people. He is a popular man and no doubt people are also keen to harvest fuel for gossip. I need to plaster a happy, contented smile on my face. But not too contented. I don’t want to look smug or like the cat who got the cream. I need to convey that the maze incident was a happy accident. Gods this is hard! I’m sweating so much, it’s gross. Thank heavens my suit is dark and no one is actually going to see my sweat stains.
I let the conversation wash over me until Lord Greyfield’s words catch my attention.
“May I steal you away to the billiards room, old chap? I have some business matters I’d like to discuss.”
Glumly, I release my hold on Harry’s arm, but to my surprise, Harry doesn’t walk away, he turns to me.
“Will you be alright?”
There is genuine concern in his dazzling eyes. I nod and smile. I can’t keep him from important business. Heaven knows I’m doing enough of that already by tethering him to me until my cycle settles.
He nods in return, untangles his arm from my grip and walks away with Greyfield. I’m not going to watch him go. I’m going to accept a flute of champagne from this server and I’m going to watch the dancers like I haven’t a care in the world.
The little crowd that had formed around Harry, melts away, leaving me standing alone. It’s fine, this is fine. I’ll see someone I know well soon enough. I don’t think I’m a social pariah. I bloody well hope not, anyway. I guess I will find out by the end of the evening. But at least I was invited, unlike Jem or my parents.
Champagne bubbles burn my nose as I drink it far too quickly. I really hope my parents’ lack of invitation is not society believing my entrapment of Harry was all their idea. They only helped me in my plan, they weren’t the instigator. The scheme was all mine. Well, trapping Rakeswell was my aim. Catching Harry instead was fate’s plan. Or just plain bad luck.
No, it was good luck, I suddenly realize. I like Harry. I’m happy I’m married to him and not Rakeswell.
“Your Grace, would you give me the pleasure of this dance?”
I blink in surprise at Viscount Baxby. The man is older than my father and not known for dancing. Is he mining for gossip? I should decline, but wait a minute. He is a close friend of Earl Rathbone, the man Harry was secretly apprenticed to. I might be able to learn something.
I smile, place my empty glass on the table behind me and let Baxby lead me out to the dancefloor. It’s been an age since I danced. My body is thrumming with excitement. I lose myself in the joy of movement for a while.
“Harry has good taste,” says Baxby, bringing me back to reality with a bump.
Startled, I glance up at him. The look in his eye reminds me of the way Hyde was looking at me at the orgy. My mouth has gone dry. I try to step away but his grip on me tightens.
“Now, now, don’t cause a scene by leaving in the middle of a dance.”
He is right. It will cause a scene. Besides, it’s just a dance. Baxby isn’t going to molest me on the dancefloor. I can cope with another few minutes of this.
His hand slips down from the small of my back. Okay, he can’t molest me but I guess he can cop a feel.
Suddenly, I crash into someone. Harry. I would recognize the feel of him anywhere. His strong hand grabs my arm. I look up at him but his aquamarine eyes are fixed on Baxby.
“Hell hath no fury like the fury I will unleash if you touch him,” Harry growls.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. There is something very real in his threat. I just have time to see Baxby turn an unhealthy shade of pale before Harry is dragging me off of the dancefloor. I’m much shorter than him, I haven’t got a chance in keeping up with his long, determined stride. But he doesn’t let up. As we reach the edge of the dancefloor, he barks at a member of staff.
“Show us to our room!”
The poor man nods and scurries ahead. The hallways pass in a blur of dark wood and plush carpets. Then the staff member opens a door and Harry pulls me into a very nice bedchamber. Complete with a fourposter bed. Just the one. One bed. Harry is going to have to spend the night with me. Unless he decides we are to go home.
The door shuts. We are alone. I can almost taste Harry’s anger, the air is so thick with it.
“S…Sorry,” I stammer.
He lets go of me and shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong.”
Belatedly, I remember to breathe and I suck in a great lung full of air. Harry rubs his hands over his face and then his hair.
“I never should have brought you to this nest of vipers.”
Should I disagree with him? Remind him that it’s just a ball? The same social circle that I have been mixing in all my life? But I guess I wasn’t Duke Consort Sothbridge before. Thinking about it, that changes everything. Harry’s enemies are now my own. They may well seek me out as a way to get to Harry. It’s like I was a pawn that somehow made it to the far end of the chessboard and suddenly I’m a queen and now everyone is going to try to attack me. But If I have done nothing wrong, then neither has Harry.
However, it’s clear he doesn’t see it that way. He looks very distraught. It seems that I did learn some things from dancing with Baxby. Harry really doesn’t like him. And something bad definitely happened while he was apprenticed. Now I just need to figure out what it was, and then find a way to help Harry heal from it.
