“Neglected?” She huffed. “Hardly, sir. You’ve been a perfect monster to me, just like Shelley’s creature: willful, disobedient, demanding of affection, and?—”
“An’ you’ll be punished later fer yer tone, wife,” he whispered in her ear as he led her to the center of the floor.
“Will I?” she murmured back seductively.
The room suddenly stilled, the guests waiting for their hosts to open the ball.
It was a simple minuet, one he’d practiced often enough in the drawing room with Ginny to manage now publicly. Still, Milton’s nerves flared; a formal dance was nothing like a simple sailor’s reel.
He cleared his throat. “Friends, family, and esteemed members of society,” he began. “It is with pleasure that I welcome you to our home, in celebration of much.” He paused. “First, the birth of our daughter, Gemma.” The guests all raised their glasses in cheer. “Second, the impending publication of Lady Milton’s debut novel.” Surprised applause covered his wife’s kick to shin. Was that meant to be a secret? For Elizabeth had indeed written a novel all through her confinement, though she had yet to let him read it, the minx. “And of course, tonight’s masquerade. You are all visions in disguise.”
More applause erupted as Milton allowed the ensuing murmurs to ripple through their guests’ ranks. “Many of you have known me for years, and I daresay of late you may havenoticed a change.” He looked about him to find one after another of his closest, oldest friends. “A change for the better I hope.”
“’Bout time, Jasp!” and “Damned right, y’ lowlife!” erupted from the crowd.
He took a breath. “I owe that change to the woman at my side, my wife, Elizabeth.” He squeezed her hand. “She saved me, ladies and gentlemen, from a fate worse than death. She saved me from myself.”
Lizzie looked shocked, or perhaps she was annoyed he had mentioned her book. Regardless, he forged forth.
“When we wed, I was not the gentleman Miss Winthrop needed or, I am sure, wanted.” Milton thanked his lucky stars he was no longer that bitter, vengeful man. “But I stand before you today, before my wife, to renew the vows I made that day, this time with full conviction of feeling.”
“Hear, hear!” more voices proclaimed as tears now clung to his wife’s lashes.
“Elizabeth Audrey, I promise to love, cherish and obey you till death do us part.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Obey within reason, o’ course.” He winked.
She flung her arms about his neck and kissed him, her top hat and cane falling to floor. He hoisted her high in the air and held her there a moment, aloft. They were monster and creator, mirrors of their true selves, or perhaps mere symbols of their past.
Elizabeth raised her voice. “Enough talk, Baron, let the dancing begin!”
As the first strains of music swelled, Milton lowered his wife to the floor and executed each move of the opening minuet with poise.
For the rest of that night, he danced with no one but his brilliant, bespectacled Baroness.
