Edward gave a dangerous smile. “Her Grace and I thank you for your concern. Should we ever need your expertise regarding animals, we will send for you.”
The insult was so gracefully wrapped that Lady Portwell did not realize she had been struck until several beats later. Her feathers quivered.
“Well… I… yes. Good evening.”
She scurried away, her companions following after her.
They had nearly completed another circuit of the ballroom when a familiar voice rose above the din. “There you are!”
Margaret appeared first, her cheeks flushed from the heat, a fan fluttering vigorously in her hand. Sebastian followed her, attempting without success to look dignified while being dragged along.
“Oh, good heavens, the crowd!” Margaret exclaimed, weaving between the dancers with the efficiency of a general storming a hill. “Do they always keep it this stifling, or is it just because half of London has turned out to inspect you both like prize cattle?”
“Margaret,” Beatrice hissed under her breath.
“Well, it’s true,” Margaret said with a shrug, then lowered her fan conspiratorially. “Cecily begged me to report on everything I saw. I think she expected madness. Or duels.”
Edward raised an eyebrow. “Neither has occurred. Yet.”
Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. “It will be fine now. They always stare until someone more interesting arrives. I’ll do my best to be scandalous.”
“You are not scandalous,” Margaret said. “You are steady.”
“I am capable of scandal.”
She patted his cheek. “Of course you are, dear.”
Beatrice bit back a laugh. The knot in her chest loosened just a little.
Margaret took her hand. “Truly, Bea, you look lovely. And very steady. No one would ever guess the nerves.”
Beatrice blinked. “How did you?—?”
“I’ve had my fair share of them. Also, you tremble exactly the way you used to when sitting for the pianoforte.” Margaret smiled. “Only I notice.”
Beside her, Edward murmured, “I notice as well.”
She stilled.
Margaret’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh? Well, that is interesting.”
“Margaret,” Sebastian warned.
She waved him off. “Yes, yes, I’m misbehaving.” She looped an arm through Beatrice’s. “Come, we’ll make a circuit of our own, and everyone can whisper about how very sociable the new Duke and Duchess are.”
Sebastian leaned toward Edward. “Brace yourself. Once she begins, there is no stopping her.”
“I gathered,” Edward drawled.
And yet Beatrice saw it—the faint softening of his expression as Margaret pulled them into the safety of a group. The relief there was subtle but unmistakable. She felt it, too.
For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to breathe.
Edward had endured nearly an hour of forced civility, smiling through barbed pleasantries and murmured insinuations. He could tolerate it. He had been raised among such people, after all.
But with Beatrice at his side, every whisper chafed more sharply than the last.
She stood composed, her posture elegant, her chin lifted with quiet dignity. It only made her more conspicuous; he could feel eyes following her everywhere.
