Her gaze met his, and only when she saw the amazement there did she let out a small breath. She’d never truly thought what his life might have been like these past twelve years. “Giles...”
His other hand came over to squeeze hers. “Balls and pomp are not what I missed, Liss.”
“Is Crane really that much of a recluse?”
“Oh, he’s the worst sort. He hates leaving his estate, though he should be better now that he has his wife at his side.” He tipped his head to hers. “There are more things than this.”
She supposed that was true.
“And I’m glad my first was with you.”
Instant heat flashed on her face. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “so long as it’s memorable, then.” A ridiculous thing to say.
“All moments are memorable with you.”
“All right, you rogue. At this point, dancing would be less distracting than your tongue.”
He laughed but didn’t say anything else.
They began their slow stroll through the crowd, pausing by each cluster of guests to appear casual, blending in with the other finely dressed pairs pretending not to listen to one another’s conversations. Alyssia almost laughed. She felt like a gossip columnist hunting for the perfect story. And she’d never noticed before, but it seemed every second sentence in the room was either gossip or inflated praise of one’s own importance.
“. . . the Countess of Harlington’s gown . . .”
“. . . Lord Pembroke was seen leaving . . .”
“. . . dreadful weather for the fox hunt . . .”
“What an unpleasant pastime,” Alyssia muttered. Nothing. No mention of his uncle. No mention of her. Theton’s attention, it seemed, had shifted elsewhere, at least for the night. Not that she wanted to hear anything about herself. That would be so much more dreadful than the supposed weather for the fox hunt. So she allowed herself the luxury of pretending the world had stopped caring about that nightmare.
“Agreed.” Giles’s low voice came.
“Have you spotted your uncle? Do you think he will attend?”
“Not sure, but if the man is all about appearances, he might.”
Alyssia nodded. Her fingers brushed the edge of her mask where Giles had righted it. She doubted the man would make a move until he discovered his nephew’s whereabouts. Hopefully, everything should be cleared up soon. However, it wasn’t just about unseating the current duke, it seemed. It was what to do with him afterward.
They drifted nearer the refreshment table. The music swelled, and laughter pealed from a nearby group of ladies.
“...I simply don’t believe she truly married,” one of them said.
Alyssia’s step faltered. They didn’t need to speak her name, she felt the sting of it all the same. Some truths didn’t need naming to be recognized.
Another voice, softer but crueler, followed. “If she did, does herhusband know he wed damaged goods? She’d have been better off with the man who ruined her.”
Alyssia froze.
Damaged goods.
Of course. Those were the words they used now. Words that could stain a woman deeper than any scandal printed in a paper. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her throat closed around the air she tried to swallow. The heat of the ballroom turned stifling, and the mask suddenly felt like a shackle against her skin. She wanted to rip it off and then rip into them.
How dare they speak of things they knew nothing about!
“Rafferty is not a bad match.”
“Apparently not good enough for a duke’s daughter.”
Giles turned instantly, his voice low. “Ignore them, Liss. They mean nothing. None of it means anything.”
