“All of my girls in one place,” he said, choking up a little. “I am the most blessed man in the world.”
“Yes, you are,” Celeste said matter-of-factly.
He laughed as he made his way to them and held his hand out to Ella. She took it and allowed him to spin her around, her dress flaring out as she twirled.
Celeste clapped in excitement at the sight.
“Beautiful,” the duke said with a smile, before turning his attention to his younger daughters. “And who are these gorgeous ladies?”
Colette smiled, and Celeste grinned.
“We are your daughters,” Celeste announced, “and we get to go to the ball!”
“Yes, you do,” he said with a laugh. “Although I’m still trying to decide if that was a good idea.”
“You can’t say no now,” Colette told him, her eyes widening.
“I’m not going to,” he reassured her. “I just think that you all are growing up far too fast for my taste.”
“That’s our job,” Celeste announced.
“To grow up too fast?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she said with a smirk. “And it’s your job to watch us grow up.”
“I’m doing that,” he said with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, watching it happen far too fast.”
“I agree,” Regina said, slipping her hand into his as she looked between the three girls. “You all look beautiful, and I can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight.”
Ella itched to ask whether Dietrich would be forced to come or if he had managed to weasel his way out of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It seemed a bit needy to ask if he was coming. He didn’t owe her anything, and if he didn’t come, she would be fine.
Even if she desperately wanted him to be there.
She couldn’t imagine facing her first ball without him by her side, which felt odd—and also totally normal. But since she had no real experience at being a duchess, she figured she could use a little extra moral support, even if it came in the form of a grumpy stable master who was doing an expert job of avoiding her.
“Are we ready to go?” her father asked, stepping forward and offering his arm to her. “I think our guests are arriving.”
Chapter twenty-one
Dietrich
Dietrich turned to watch with everyone else as they announced Duke Vaughn and his daughter, Lady Eliana Vaughn. The doors opened, and she appeared, holding her father’s arm, looking absolutely radiant in a light green gown that seemed as wide as a house.
Everyone in the ballroom began to applaud—except for three ladies.
He had positioned himself near her former family in case they tried to cause a scene. He would not have them ruining her moment. It seemed his decision had been prudent.
“That’s Ella,” the stepmother hissed.
“What is she doing here? She’s not a duchess,” one of the sisters said, her voice spewing venom.
“She must have tricked them,” the stepmother muttered, moving forward.
Dietrich stepped into her path. “If you cause a scene, you will be leaving,” he murmured quietly.
He could hear the crowd’s whispers as Ella and her father descended the staircase into the ballroom.
Her former stepmother scoffed. “And who are you? You don’t have the power to remove me.”
