“Talk to me, Prim,” Leo said. “You look as if your head might actually spin.”
“What if they sayruinedwithin my earshot?”
“Let them. If being the Duchess of Mildenhall is ruin, then so be it.”
“They know you were forced-”
“They know what I told them. I courted you and saw you worthy of a position half the ladies coveted. The other half was already married.”
“Such arrogance!”
“Not if it’s facts. Let their envy poison them, not you.”
“I will try.”
“Tryis for failures,” Leo said resolutely. “You will succeed.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“Prim, you will be fine. You don’t fully understand the weight of the name you carry. Granted, you were never dazed by the title, but it holds merit and authority. And I am officially allowed to destroy people for hurting you.”
“I don’t think that is the law exactly,” Prim teased.
“I am interpreting it,” Leo teased back. “Remember, Prim, you are a Duchess.”
“Your Duchess.”
He pauses for a second and looks at her in the carriage, the gentle moonlight pouring in, bathing her in a silver light. She was transformed into an ethereal beauty.
“My Duchess,” he said finally.
“Sir,” the driver cut through the moment. “We are almost there.”
Prim flew to glue herself to the window, her lemon scent filling the air. Leo smiled. He was the one to bathe her in her cute bathtub on his knees on the floor, kissing her wet lips while he used his hand to be… thorough.
“This is magnificent!” Her enthusiasm was enough to drown all his excitement in lemon water.
The Deveraux mansion shone up ahead like a golden confection against the black night. Leo insisted they came in fashionably late to make the impression everyone was expecting of them. By this hour, the place was fully lit by candles, and the music was wafting through the air.
They arrived at the entrance, and Leo helped Prim out. She held onto his fingers a little tighter than her usual elegance. Leo studied her face as she was taking in the elegant façade of the Deveraux mansion. The Greco-Roman pillars and the arched windows made the mansion one of the most sophisticated in London.
“The Devereaux have impeccable taste,” Prim said.
“They do. The Marchiones is the real power behind their household. She is an elegant elderly woman with an iron spine and a distaste for most of the ton. Her husband owes me several backings of his bills. I didn’t choose this ball by chance. You will be perfectly fine, Prim.”
Prim glanced at him, thankful. Leo nodded and offered her his arm. They entered the opulent hall, all made of white marble, accentuated by the intricate patterns of the English oak floor. The smell of beeswax and rose filled the air along with the notes of the music, the Deveraux nephew currently playing the violin with unique artistry, his art unparalleled in the whole of London.
And yet, their entrance monopolized the ton’s attention. Especially Prim’s. Leo looked at his wife, in her Robin egg blue that made her golden hair stand out. And the pearl necklace that she didn’t take off, even at their home.
“They do not even attempt to be discreet,” Prim said, smiling at him as they went down the stairs to the grand hall.
“I saw Lady Glenthorne rush from the powder room so she wouldn’t miss this,” Leo chuckled.
“I sincerely hope she had concluded her business before she did.”
Leo shook his head, and he guided his wife through the crowd. As they walked by, the feverish susurration woke behind them.
“Do you think she is with child already?” A whisper behind a fan.
