“What an absolute pleasure,” a young Lord appeared in front of them, “to see you here, Miss, excuse me. I mean, Your Grace.”
“Lord Seymour,” Arabella replied with conservative enthusiasm.
Gerald looked at the man before him with an almost deadly look. Not that he noticed, since his entire focus was on Arabella.
“Allow me to introduce you,” Arabella turned to him, “Lord Seymour. His father is a family friend.”
“Well, I should like to say that I am also a family friend,” he smiled at her.
“It just so happens that I am her family now,” he bit out.
That seemed to throw the man off, but not entirely. He smiled back at Arabella.
“You must give me one dance, Your Grace,” Lord Seymour said and, without asking, took Arabella’s dancing card and wrote down his name.
Gerald watched with wide eyes but said nothing. And that he could tolerate if it had been a simple occurrence. But soon another gentleman approached them and very politely added his name to her dance card. Then another. Another one after that.
Only then did Gerald understand that his wife truly was the Sunshine of the Ton, admired by all and drawing men to her like moths to a flame. He had never believed himself a catch, but he had still been arrogant enough to suppose he was doing her a favor in marrying her. The looks of most men in the room suggested he was the lucky one instead.
And yet Gerald felt no pride or accomplishment. Instead, a gnawing feeling rose. He very much wanted to be the only man in the world to see Arabella’s light.
“It seems,” he said at an interval when none of the gentlemen attending were approaching her, “that I must hasten to add my name on your dancing card, Your Grace.”
She looked at him as she raised her hand and offered him the dancing card that was hanging around her wrist. He took her gloved hand and looked at her deep in the eyes before writing his name. Twice. For good measure.
It was a while after she had seen her dance with at least three different men that the general decided he had more claim on Arabella than any man present, and he was determined to exercise that claim.
He crossed the ballroom and arrived at the moment when the song was ending, and he appeared before her and bowed.
“I believe I may finally claim a dance, Your Grace.”
Arabella very dramatically checked on her dancing card.
“It would seem that is accurate,” she responded with a smile.
He took her hand, and they started dancing. The dance was a little bit more conservative than Gerald would have liked for the occasion.
“You are quite popular, Lady Albury,” he said with a teasing smile.
“I do happen to know a lot of people, and I surely endeavor to be friendly with most of them.”
Gerald looked down at her with a momentarily territorial look, but he controlled it very quickly and focused on dancing with her. He enjoyed feeling her in his arms, leading her, swirling her, and looking at her beautiful eyes in the candlelight.
“You dance very well,” Arabella said.
“You could at least try to sound less surprised by the fact.”
“I must tell you I was expecting the Cruel Duke to be dragging his dance partner like a prisoner to the gallows.”
“I reserve that treatment for the worst of my enemies, and I rarely dance with them.”
“I should consider myself that lucky then,” Arabella smirked.
He pulled her closer to him, just one bit more than propriety allowed even for a married couple. She gasped in light surprise but then melted into him.
“You seem to be quite popular this evening.”
“I happen to be quite popular every evening, Your Grace. Are you complaining?”
