“You make it sound like a battlefield.”
“I find the strategies similar.”
She almost laughed. The sound surprised him enough that he glanced down at her.
“You see?” she said. “You are capable of humor.”
“Do not spread such a rumor. They might all think I am interesting.”
They moved into the room together. Something felt different almost immediately. Usually, Nathaniel would have greeted a handful of acquaintances before retreating toward the periphery of the room, leaving Margaret free to engage as she wished. That was what he had planned to do, for he had seen her speaking with the townsfolk and knew she had a knack for it.
But he did not step away. Instead, he remained beside her. He introduced her to several people himself, spoke to her between conversations, and leaned slightly closer when the music rose too loudly for ordinary speech. The change was subtle, but Margaret noticed.
“So attentive,” a lady commented quietly as she passed.
“You certainly are,” Margaret agreed as they continued.
“I am behaving as a husband should. Shall I stop?”
“Not yet.”
The orchestra shifted into the opening measures of a waltz. Nathaniel felt the familiar tightening in the room, that moment when dancers began searching for partners. He looked at Margaret.
“Will we dance?”
She studied him for a brief moment longer before placing her hand in his. The moment their fingers touched, something in his chest shifted again. They stepped onto the floor. Nathaniel placed one hand at her waist, the other guiding her hand upward. It was hardly different from how they had been found, but he tried not to focus on the irony of that.
Margaret’s gaze lifted to his as the music swelled. Their steps aligned so naturally that the room around them seemed to fade away. Nathaniel had expected it to pass well enough. He had not expected such ease.
“You are smiling,” she noted.
He had not realized it. Their turn brought them briefly closer to the center of the floor. Candlelight caught in Margaret’s hair as she spun beneath his guiding arm, returning smoothly to his hold. His hand at her waist tightened slightly, and not by accident.
“You realize,” Nathaniel said quietly, “that society is watching.”
“I suspected as much.”
“And yet you appear unconcerned.”
“I assumed that was your role.”
His laugh escaped before he could stop it, and Margaret looked momentarily pleased with herself.
“That,” she said, “was genuine.”
“You caused it.”
“Perhaps I should more often.”
Their steps carried them through another turn, closer than before. Her hand rested lightly in his, but he felt the warmth of her fingers through the glove. For a moment the music seemed to slow.
The waltz ended sooner than he would have liked. Applause rippled softly through the room as the dancers slowed and separated. Nathaniel did not release her immediately. Then, remembering himself, he guided her toward the edge of the floor. His fingers brushed hers as he did, perhaps by accident and perhaps not.
For the rest of the evening, he remained beside her. He spoke more than usual, laughed more than usual. Once or twice, he leaned close enough that his voice brushed her ear when the music grew loud again.
And slowly, inevitably, the fascination in the room deepened, because thetonhad expected distance between the Duke of Ravensmere and his new wife. What they saw instead was something far more interesting.
A man who rarely lingered now seemed reluctant to leave her side. A man known for his composure now watched his wife asthough the rest of the room had grown much less important, which he had to agree that it had.
