Aunt Maude didn’t seem curious as she basked in the interest it brought to her from the rest of the room.
The prince offered me his hand and then walked me into the center of the room, though the orchestra had not started to play, and others were forced to move out of the way.
Quickly, the orchestra lifted their instruments and fumbled to begin. Soon they were playing a beautiful waltz, and the prince took me into his arms, dancing me around the ballroom as the guests watched.
“I had hoped to stop by to see you again this week,” he said to me.
Thankfully, with the sound of the music drowning out his words, none of the onlookers could hear our conversation.
“I would have liked that.”
He turned me a few more times and then said, “You look lovely tonight, Clara. The duke is a lucky man.”
I couldn’t hide the pain his words caused, though I tried.
“What’s wrong?” He frowned. “Don’t you want to marry the duke?”
I pressed my lips together and tried to remember to breathe.
“Are you in love with someone else?” he prodded.
Without looking at him, I nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Tell me about him.”
“It doesn’t matter." I forced myself to rally. “Aunt Maude needs me to marry the duke.”
“Why?”
I found myself telling him all about the hotel situation and Louise Garfield and all the reasons that Aunt Maude had adopted me.
“None of it makes sense to me,” I said as I finished, and the music was coming to an end. “But it matters to her and to Alec.” My voice caught and I had to look away from him.
“It’s Alec, then?” the prince asked.
I could only nod.
The song ended and we came to a stop on the dance floor.
“I’m very sorry,” he told me. “I understand more than anyone, for the reasons you might guess.”
“I know.” I tried to smile. “Thank you.”
He returned my smile as I curtseyed to him.
“Whatever you decide,” he said, “I hope you will be very happy, Clara.”
“Thank you,” I said again, knowing that the choice had already been made, and I doubted that I would be happy.
The ball proceeded with few diversions. I danced with the duke, and he asked if he could have the pre-supper dance, as well as the final dance, which would tell the rest of society that we were either engaged or would be soon.
“I would like an opportunity to talk to you during supper,” he had said, when he handed me back my dance card. “Alone.”
I had nodded, though it was hard to find my voice, knowing why he wanted to talk to me.
The small ballroom had become overly warm, despite the cool evening. My head had started to hurt and the noise from the orchestra, the guests, and the shuffling of feet over the parquet floor were grating on my nerves. The one bright spot had been the prince’s dance, but that could not carry me through the rest of the evening.
After dancing with the Earl of Hartford, I glanced at my dance card and saw that there were only two more dances until the duke would have his turn and then we would talk.
