“You’re safe,” he murmured quietly, words meant only for her, just as much a warning as a comfort. “No one will trouble you while I am here.”
Her eyes met his, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, the music, the glittering lights, the whispers of the ton, all of it, faded. There was only her, and him, and the taut thread of desire and protection binding them together.
Richard’s lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned slightly closer, enough that her hair brushed against his cheek. He did not need to speak further; she understood.
And as they began to move through the ballroom together, arm in arm, the unspoken message was clear to all who watched: the Duchess of Hawksford was claimed, and the Duke of Hawksford would brook no interference.
Even Jonathan, standing nearby with a raised brow and suppressed smirk, could not deny the quiet authority radiating from Richard as he escorted his wife.
“You really are insufferable, Hawksford,” Jonathan muttered under his breath.
Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow of a smile twitching at his lips. “I know how to silence a room. No, I know how to silenceyou.”
Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. “Silence me? I hardly think so.”
Richard let the words fade into the music and chatter, his focus returning fully to Victoria, whose soft laugh and bright eyes were the only music he needed tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
“Your Grace, we’ve seen you with the child at Hyde Park,” Lady Selkirk began, voice sweet with an undercurrent of irony. “She is a charming little girl, of course! But surely you find that an infant, even a ward, must strain a new marriage? Does His Grace ask you or even worry at all about her care? Or do you rely entirely on a nursemaid?”
Victoria felt suffocated almost the moment the ball began. She was not a woman to flinch from a challenge, yet the throng of eager, chattering ladies descending upon her made her pulse spike.
Each smile, each tilt of the head, each subtle inquiry felt like a needle pressing into her chest. She had anticipated this moment, knew exactly what they meant to ask, yet it did little to steady her nerves.
Victoria’s jaw tightened as more voices joined in, like insects buzzing relentlessly around a light.
Lady Hubert’s voice followed, soft but piercing. “And the mother, Your Grace? It must have been such a tragedy to lose her so suddenly. Did she wish the child to be cared for elsewhere?”
Heat rose in Victoria’s cheeks, both from irritation and the ever-present self-consciousness that came when strangers scrutinized her. She took a steadying breath.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “Melody’s mother was a delicate woman, taken far too soon. Were she alive, she would have cared for her child herself. Unfortunately, she was not granted the time.”
A few of the women exchanged subtle, disapproving glances, but Victoria pressed on, determined to retain control of the narrative. “She is well cared for. I have a nursemaid to assist, though I personally oversee her care whenever possible. I assure you, she is happy and healthy.”
Lady Selkirk arched a delicate brow. “And the father? Are there no other relatives who might … assist?”
“Unfortunately, Lady Selkirk, the father cannot be of assistance,” Victoria said patiently, her voice dropping to convey how grave the situation was. “As I’ve mentioned, he passed before the mother. The poor wife, my husband’s cousin, had her health already compromised by her recent childbirth. Therefore, it was no surprise that she followed him to the grave so soon. The task had then fallen onto us.”
Yet the whispers did not cease. Lady Selkirk’s next words cut sharper, deliberate. “Yet your husband was away for over a year, only returning when this child needed care. One must wonder at the circumstances.”
Victoria’s chest tightened, but she did not falter. In fact, she felt a fierce, defensive resolve rise within her. This was her life now, and her ward deserved protection, even if it meant withstanding a swarm of gossipy aristocrats.
“Is she baptized, Your Grace?” Lady Hubert asked, pressing forward as if to test her further.
“I believe that it is none—” Victoria began, her voice faltering only as a shadow fell across her line of sight.
Richard.
He moved with a quiet command, stepping into their midst. The room seemed to shrink around him, the chatter fading into an almost imperceptible hum. Victoria felt the familiar pull of his presence, that mixture of heat and protection that always seemed to charge the air.
His hand brushed hers briefly on the small of her back, a subtle but intimate touch that both reassured and startled her.
“Ladies,” he said, voice low but resonant, cutting through the noise. The sheer authority in it made even the boldest dowager hesitate.
Victoria felt the relief wash over her, tempered with admiration. This was the man she had married: capable, commanding, protective. The gossip, overwhelming moments ago, now felt absurd under his gaze.
“My wife is a capable caregiver to our ward,” he continued, eyes scanning the group with calculated precision. “She prefers to manage certain tasks personally, though she is well assisted by competent staff. Tonight, she is here to enjoy the generosity of our hostess, not to endure an interrogation.”
