“Does she not shine?” Christopher asked as she stepped in closer. “And am I not the luckiest man in the country?”
“Not the world?” Lord Eastvale chortled.
“Ha!” Christopher laughed, and it sounded forced and unnatural. “I did not want to brag, but yes, I think the world suits just fine.”
It was that way for the first hour or so of the evening.
She and her husband entered Winchester Manor in one another’s arms, walked through the expansive foyer, and were led into the ballroom, where there were already scores of guests in attendance. It was a typically opulent affair, with the vibrant colors of the gowns, the sparkling crystal of the chandeliers, the gold paint on the walls, and the glistening marble of the floor.
Rose had always enjoyed these Balls. She enjoyed socializing, she liked to gossip, and learn what was what. And before she was married, she always attended them with an eye toward her sister’s future, as she never had to worry about her own.
What she found this evening, however, was how different things were now that she was married. And to a duke, no less.
Christopher was the center of attention from the moment they arrived. People parted to allow him through. Many swarmed on him to make their greetings. And all looked upon him as if the world moved at his beck and call.
“… married life suits me well,” he bragged to two lords whom Rose did not know. “I should have done it years ago.”
“… as happy as I have ever been,” he explained to Viscount Everleigh, a personal friend of Rose’s father. “And tell anyone who asks.”
“… oh yes, she keeps me busy,” he joked with a small group of half a dozen lords and their wives, all of whom laughed as if on cue. “Practice for when we have children, I suppose.”
Rose watched him closely throughout the interactions, confirming quickly what she was starting to suspect: that everything he did, everything he said, and every action taken was weighed, measured, and done with purpose.
He wore a mask as he filtered throughout the ballroom. His smile was friendly and certainly not too large and suggestive. His laughter was commanding, but not too loud, and not attention-seeking. He never argued or rose to temper. He made sure to never appear bored or disinterested. And he always left a good impression.
Most interestingly, he does not enjoy it. He might pretend to. He might even tell me, were I to ask. But I can see the strain it has on him; I can see the sneers and curled lips when he thinks that nobody is watching. It is a face he puts on, and he does not like how it feels.
It made Rose wonder further about her husband.
She was happy to play her role because she did not want to upset him or ruin the evening. So she laughed along, nodded, and did not question him when he said something she disagreed with.
But all the while, she watched, and she considered, and she tried to figure out why he was acting this way. As a duke, he could say what he wanted, to whom he wished, and nobody could stop him. But that he was so careful… that was what struck her most.
“Gosh…” Christopher sighed loudly, and his shoulders slumped. “What an evening…”
They were alone for the first time, tucked toward the back of the ballroom, their purposeful placement, Rose thought, to give Christopher a break from the throngs of people.
“Something the matter?” Rose asked.
“Hhmm?” He perked up, aware that his posture had faltered. “No, not at all. I am rather enjoying myself, in fact. Yes, a wonderful time.”
Rose studied him. “You know, there is nobody else here right now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means nobody is listening.” She indicated around them. “You don’t have to.” She clicked her tongue.
“Don’t have to what?”
“Pretend,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset him. Although she figured that in this public setting, he wouldn’t allow himself to be upset. “You don’t have to force yourself to be a certain way around these people. I don’t see why you bother or care.”
“Who says I am pretending?”
She looked at him flatly. “The way you tell it, you and I are so close that we can practically read one another’s thoughts.”
“I did get a little carried away, didn’t I?”
“But why?” she asked, still careful not to push too hard. “Forgive me, but I just did not think of you as someone who cared what others thought of him. Even if it looks like that’s all you care about.”
