And Jasper—Jasper looked up and stopped completely.
His gaze traveled the length of her: pale blue silk and silver embroidery, the shimmer of pearls at her throat and ears, her dark hair swept up with the combs he had chosen. A vision of grace and elegance—but more than that.
She wore his mother's jewelry.
When their eyes met, she saw it—how his composure faltered, how his eyes softened with something deeper than admiration.
Gratitude. Awe. Love.
He crossed to her at once.
"You look..." He shook his head, visibly moved. "Beyond compare."
Abigail smiled, quiet but sure. "And you are devastatingly handsome this evening, Your Grace."
Jasper laughed under his breath. "A compliment from my wife. I may swoon."
She slipped her hand into his offered arm, her touch steady. "Not before the first dance."
As host and hostess, it was their duty to open the ball. They stepped into the ballroom together. The polished floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers, and the orchestra—stationed on the dais—struck up a waltz.
A newer dance, more intimate than the traditional country set—but no one questioned it. They were the Duke and Duchess of Winterset. And tonight, the ballroom was theirs.
When Jasper placed his hand at her waist and took her other in his, Abigail felt it again—that strange, breathtaking rightness. Their steps were fluid, their timing instinctive. It was as though they had always danced together.
Throughout the evening, they moved gracefully from partner to partner. Jasper danced with dowagers, debutantes, and visiting ladies of rank. Abigail was greeted warmly and often—by gentlemen eager to be seen in her company, by matrons eager to praise her.
The Duchess of Winterset was no longer the subject of whispers.
Tonight, she was admired. She was respected.
And more than that—she was loved.
But it was the final dance—well after midnight, when most guests had taken their leave and the orchestra played a quieter, more wistful melody—that belonged to them again.
No duty. No expectation.
Only them.
They found each other once more at the center of the ballroom, and this time, the steps came even more easily.
When the music ended, Jasper leaned close. "Would you care to join me for a walk in the garden?"
She nodded.
The terrace doors had been left open to the warm night. The garden was still, lanterns flickering along the hedges. The scent of roses and late summer blossoms lingered in the air.
They walked in silence, arms brushing as they moved.
"I wanted tonight to be special," Jasper said quietly. "For you. For us."
"It was," Abigail replied softly. "More than I expected."
He smiled faintly. "You are magnificent. You once said you didn't know how to move forward... but I think you're already doing it. And doing it beautifully."
She met his gaze and smiled. "I think I am, too."
When they returned to the house, the ballroom was empty. Servants had begun to extinguish the candles, murmuring quietly as they moved about the hall.
