“You look…” He cleared his throat. “We may be late.”
“We will not be late.” Sophia took his arm with a smile. “The ton is already whispering about us. Let us give them something worth discussing.”
The ballroom was a crush of silk and candlelight. Heads turned as they entered, whispers rippling through the crowd. The Duke and Duchess of Heatherwell, married in haste, and the subject of endless speculation.
Let them speculate, Sophia thought.Let them see.
Edward led her onto the dance floor for the opening waltz. His hand settled at her waist, firm and possessive. They moved together in perfect harmony, the steps coming naturally now, their bodies attuned to each other in ways that went far beyond dancing.
“They are staring,” Edward murmured near her ear.
“Let them.” She smiled up at him. “I rather enjoy being stared at when I am on the arm of the most handsome man in the room.”
His lips curved. “Flattery, Your Grace?”
“Truth, Your Grace.”
He pulled her closer than was strictly proper. She did not protest.
Later, Hugo appeared at their side, his grin insufferable.
“Well, well.” He looked between them with theatrical satisfaction. “It seems my matchmaking instincts were correct after all.”
“Your matchmaking instincts?” Edward raised an eyebrow.
“The dance at your house party.” Hugo buffed his nails against his lapel. “Provocation is a form of matchmaking, is it not?”
“Provocation is a form of insufferability.” But Edward’s voice lacked any actual heat.
Hugo laughed and bowed to Sophia. “Your Grace, you have worked miracles. The man is practically cheerful. I did not think it possible.”
“I am standing right here.” Edward pointed out.
“Yes, and smiling.” Hugo shook his head in mock wonder. “The world has truly turned upside down.”
He sauntered off before Edward could respond. Sophia laughed, tucking her hand more firmly into her husband’s arm.
“He’s not wrong, you know.” She glanced up at him. “You are smiling.”
Edward looked down at her, and something soft passed across his features.
“I have reason to.”
Sophia continued her work as Lady Fairhart.
Twice a week, she slipped out in the unmarked hackney, the duke’s driver delivering her to Mr. Colborne’s office and waitingto bring her safely home. The work felt different now. Lighter. She was no longer laboring under the weight of desperation, and no longer counting coins to pay off a monster’s demands.
She matched couples because she loved it. Because she believed in it. Because there was magic in watching two people find their way to each other.
“You seem different.” Mr. Colborne observed one evening, peering at her over his spectacles. “Happier.”
Sophia smiled, thinking of Edward waiting for her at home, probably pretending to read while listening for the sound of her return.
“I am.”
Mr. Colborne nodded with satisfaction. “Good. You deserve it, Your Grace. You have earned it.”
She returned home that night to find Edward in the entrance hall, as she had expected. What she had not expected was the way he pulled her into his arms the moment the door closed, kissing her until she forgot her own name.
