They danced together with a passion that Christopher had never displayed before when dancing with another woman. After a certain point, he knew that this was not acting anymore. No, this came perfectly naturally to the both of them.
Their bodies were in perfect sync with one another, and they moved with grace and fluidity. Never once did he step on her foot or did she move in a way that did not perfectly complement him.
It was magic.
And perhaps all the more satisfying was knowing that the Dowager Duchess was watching them, likely seething at the sight. She never did like seeing her son happy, if it was not of any benefit to her.
As the dance was about to draw to a close, the newlyweds slowed down their movements, smiling at each other.
“You never told me how great of a dancer you were, Duchess.” Christopher’s tone was flirtatious—he could not help it.
“Likewise.”
He chuckled, feeling an unusual lightness in his heart. Something about Frances’s presence made everything better.
“I have to say that I quite like it when you are in a good mood like this. I was worried something was going on with you when we first arrived here.” She leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “Why were you frowning earlier?”
Christopher hesitated, feeling a bit foolish. “It was nothing, really. Just me being stupid.”
Frances stopped dancing for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Christopher, I want to know, even if it’s something silly. Because you are my husband.”
Hearing her call him ‘husband’ filled him with warmth.
Christopher leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I was frowning because I realized I was an idiot for buying you that dress. All night, I’ve been thinking that I should have bought you a simpler one.”
All night, he had tried to keep his feelings to himself. But when she asked him so sweetly, it was difficult not to tell her anything that she wished to know.
She had a certain kind of effect on him, whether she realized it or not.
Frances looked puzzled. “Why would you think that?”
Christopher’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Because now everyone gets to see how beautiful you are.”
She looked stunned by his admission, and then her pale skin turned into a shade of peach. “I thought that it was because you do not like the dress…”
“Are you mad?” he said, aghast. “I like it. No, that word does not do it justice. I admire it to a degree that I wish to buy you twenty dresses like it.”
The corners of her mouth turned upwards into a small, shy smile. “But then you would find yourself in the same situation, twenty times over. Would you not?”
“I will make sure that you only wear them around the house. So that it is only me who gets to see you like that.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
Her blush deepened.
At that moment, he felt tempted to kiss right there, in the middle of the dance floor. Sure, it would not reflect on them well, as Society did not appreciate public displays of affection, even if the couple were married.
Still, he was willing to risk it. The moment felt right.
But just as he was about to, he spotted Teresa from the corner of his eye as the dance floor began to clear out. She looked like a predator, waiting in the sidelines.
Christopher knew his mother. She was waiting for them to leave the dance floor so that she could ambush Frances and tell her God knew what kind of nonsense.
Determined to protect his wife, Christopher decided to act swiftly. As the music came to an end, he gently but firmly took Frances by the hand.
“Come with me,” he whispered urgently.
Frances looked at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What’s happened?”
“Trust me,” he said, leading her through the crowd and towards the exit. “It is imperative that we leave now.”
