The clinking of the bell in the lord's hand caused all in the room to look upon him as he stood on the stage where the musicians had been playing.
He placed the small gold bell on a tray offered by a servant before beginning his speech. “I wish to welcome you all and thank you all for joining us on this fine, late summer evening!”
Emmaline's stomach twisted the second the lord's gaze zeroed in on her and the duke.
“But before I announce the beginning of the first dance, I wish to be the first to congratulate The Duke of Westmarch and his new wife The Duchess of Westmarch upon their very sudden yet very wonderful marriage. To Their Graces The Duke and Duchess of Westmarch! May their marriage be a happy one filled with many heirs!”
Emmaline's throat constricted almost as painfully as her stomach twisted. Though it was not the first mention of heirs—in fact, the duke had mentioned them when explaining his proposal of marriage to her—it was the first time she had ever given it any real thought. Without the threat of her father's illness consuming him and her family's fortunes on better terms, she had little else to distract her.
And for the first time she realized the responsibility of what it truly meant to be married to the duke.
“Perhaps as the newest wed, Your Graces might indulge us in opening the first dance?” Lord Trenton suggested, gesturing them to take the floor.
Emmaline's heart stopped. How could she dance when her knees were barely holding her up to stand?
Yet, the duke turned and smiled, offering his hand once more. “Duchess, would you do me the great honor of your first dance?”
For just a second, she was nothing but an innocent, naive, unwed girl again, being asked to dance by the most handsome and influential man in the room. And, as her stepmother taught her, she smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes. “You may, Your Grace.”
She dipped a curtsy and allowed him to take her out onto the floor.
It was only as they started to dance that she realized what this was. This was not just their first dance. It was their first dance as man and wife, something that ought to have been completed the night before, during their wedding celebrations and before they had gone home to the place they would spend the rest of their lives together.
Yet all those things did not dampen Emmaline's emotion in the moment.
Though he seemed a little stiff at first, the duke was a remarkable dancer. And the way he caused her to float across the floor, swaying in his arms like a flower dancing in a gentle breeze, made her feel as if she were the most beautiful woman in the room. The way he gazed at her, unfazed by the staring of all those around them, only made her feel more so.
And Emmaline wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could make her feel like that now, maybe a life with him might not be so bad after all.
The ball had been much more tolerable than Emmaline had imagined it would be. After the shock had worn slightly and the gossip eased, she actually started to enjoy herself.
That was until just before midnight, when the ball was still in full swing, and Sean arrived at Emmaline's side to say, “Your Grace, his grace has asked me to inform you that it is time we left.”
“But the ball has barely begun!” Emmaline exclaimed. She had barely had two minutes to talk with Jane all evening. It seemed her new title as sister of a duchess had made her quite the favorite among the young and eligible bachelors.
“Don't worry, Em,” Jane said, squeezing Emmaline’s forearm. “I am certain we shall have time to catch up soon. Don’t keep your husband waiting.”
Emmaline gulped. Husband, she wasn't sure she would ever get used to that.
“Take me to him, please, Lord Seymour,” Emmaline said after hugging her sister. “Am I to assume he has already said our farewells to our hosts on our behalf?”
At that, Lord Seymour smirked. “Indeed, Your Grace.”
Emmaline cringed. Though she had expected it, she wasn't entirely pleased. It was just another way in which she found herself trapped beneath the duke's thumb.
“Then please, My Lord, lead the way.”
And so he did, guiding Emmaline around the edge of the ballroom as if to make a swift exit. Emmaline was relieved not to be stopped, only dipping her head to a couple of acquaintances as she went.
Soon, Lord Seymour helped her into the duke's carriage and the moment she sat down and looked at him, she was astonished.
It appeared in the time it had taken Lord Seymour to fetch her, the duke had changed his waistcoat and cravat from his emerald green to the devil's red. And his devil’s mask hung limp around his neck.
“So that is why we are leaving so early?” Emmaline asked, gesturing to the mask.
The duke at least had the decency to look apologetic. “Yes, I'm afraid I must open the club as usual. Even the ball of the Season cannot get in the way of that.”
“And what of me?” Emmaline asked. “Could I not have stayed?”
