“I know and I’m so very proud of her,” Lila responded as she watched the couples execute the dance.
Vincent’s breath caressed her cheek as he leaned in closer. “Would anyone notice, do you think, if we were to disappear for ten or twenty minutes? As lovely as you look tonight, the sight of you in that gown is making me rather uncomfortable and I’m not certain I have the patience to––“
“Pardon me, Your Graces?” An oddly familiar voice cut off the inappropriate suggestion Vincent was about to make.
Marcus Richards, Lila’s former betrothed, stood before them with the woman she presumed to be his wife at his side.
“Your Grace.” Lila nodded, unsure of what he might want to say to her. She was not angry with him. She’d never loved him. But her father had espoused him to be the most despicable of gentlemen after he’d broken their betrothal contract.
The Duke of Waters turned toward the petite brown-haired lady standing at his side. “Emily, I’d like to present you to the Duke and Duchess of Pemberth, Your Graces, this is my wife, the Duchess of Waters.”
Lily flicked a glance toward Vincent. She’d explained her previous betrothal to her husband months and months ago, shortly after they married and from the wariness in his eyes, he had remembered the man’s identity.
She smiled at him reassuringly and then, curious as to what this was all about, Lila curtseyed to the other duchess who curtseyed back with a smile.
In all honesty, Lila could not remember if duchesses were supposed to curtsey to one another. After being married for a year and a half and keeping to their country estate for the most part, she hadn’t as yet met any other duchesses.
She could not help herself, however, but take the measure of the other woman.
Upon being jilted by Marcus Richards, Lila had been told by her father that her betrothed had married a Miss Emily Goodnight. The horrid woman was, he had insisted, an antidote, a vile and most disagreeable spinster who would long be remembered as the ugliest of all the duchesses in England.
Yet another thing he’d lied about.
Although Miss Goodnight, Her Grace, wore spectacles perched upon her nose, slightly askew no less, she was really, rather pretty.
And by the look in the duke of Water’s eyes, Marcus Richards was obviously enamored with her.
“My sympathy on your father’s passing.” Lila murmured, remembering that the duke’s father had passed shortly after her father moved them up to Bryony Manor.
Waters cocked one brow. “My sympathies to you, as well, Your Grace.” He turned to Vincent. “Perhaps, Pemberth, you’ll take a smoke with me on the terrace, while the ladies, ah, get to know one another?”
Vincent met Lila’s gaze and she nodded. He would know that this meeting might be uncomfortable.
“I would like for nothing more than to become acquainted with Her Grace.” She consented.
Both ladies watched the backs of the gentlemen as they strolled toward the terrace doors. Lila surmised that although the young Duke of Waters cut a fine figure of a man, he paled in comparison to her husband. Vincent had a far superior––
“I have wanted to apologize to you for a very long time, and when I heard that you and Pemberth had come to London, I absolutely insisted Marcus introduce the two of us.” The other lady touched Lila’s arm lightly and drew them toward the wall.
Did Lila want an apology? She studied the other woman who seemed quite friendly and open and was not at all the witch her father had made her out to be.
“But I am quite content with the outcome, Your Grace. You have no need to apologize.” Lila had considered this before. In fact, perhaps she ought to thank the other woman.
The Duchess nodded as though in agreement.
“Emily,” She said. “Please call me Emily. Far too much Your Gracing all around if I do say so myself.” She scrunched her nose, making her seem even more approachable and friendly. “The thing of it is, I intentionally set out to convince your betrothed to jilt you. I am not sorry for that as I would not give him up for all the gold in the kingdom, but I am sorry that you were hurt as a result of my actions. And I am most sorry that you were forced to remain in your father’s custody, villain that he was.”
Lila had not thought anyone would speak so bluntly of her father in London, let alone at a ball.
“Few people crossed my father and emerged unscathed.” Lila could not help but wonder what all had occurred when he’d discovered the couple’s temerity. “But, you are… happy?”
“We are.” The other woman’s gaze shifted in the direction of the terrace. “And you, Your Grace?”
Lila could not help but grin. “I am.” And then she added. “All is well that ends well. And please call me Lila.”
Lila hadn’t been allowed to become close to other women for most of her life. Since her marriage, although she’d become acquainted with a few of their neighbors, the ladies maintained a certain aloofness. Lila’s station was something of a barrier.
How wonderful it would be to have an actual friend. “I had forgotten the splendor of atonball.” She put forth.
