He did not leave the building. He drank his champagne.
“Shall we?” Edward gestured toward the women.
Hugo crossed the ballroom and extended his hand to Lily. She placed her gloved fingers against his palm, and even through two layers of fabric, the contact registered in his blood like a match struck in a dark room.
“My betrothed.” He raised her hand to his lips and held her gaze. “You look extraordinary this evening.”
“You say that at every event.”
“And I mean it at every event.”
Something softened behind her eyes but it vanished quickly. He filed it.
They moved through the ballroom together, and within minutes, the questions began.
A ruddy-faced baron named Crowell was the first to test the waters. He clasped Hugo’s hand and grinned with the conspiratorial warmth of a man who believed they shared a secret.
“Your Grace. Well done, I must say. The pamphlet hinted at clandestine meetings, and here you are, engaged. Were you sneaking out to see each other, then? A bit of moonlit romance before the announcement?”
Hugo felt Lily tense against his arm. He kept his expression pleasant.
“I am afraid the pamphlet was nothing but speculation, Crowell. I have been calling on the Readthorpes at Brimsey House, in full view of Lord and Lady Brimsey, as convention requires.” He paused, letting the words settle. “I would not dream of compromising my fiancée’s reputation by conducting a courtship in the shadows. She deserves better than that.”
The rebuke was gentle, but it landed. Crowell’s grin faltered, and he cleared his throat.
“Of course. Naturally. Congratulations to you both.”
He retreated. Lily’s grip on Hugo’s arm loosened by a fraction.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For not letting him turn our engagement into a bawdy anecdote.”
Hugo glanced down at her. “That is the purpose of this arrangement, is it not? To control the narrative.”
“It is. I simply did not expect you to be so good at it.”
“You wound me, Lady Lily. I am good ateverything.”
Her mouth twitched. She looked away before he could see whether it became a smile.
They circled the room. Hugo navigated the congratulations with the ease of long practice, steering each exchange toward the version of events they needed Society to believe.
Lily’s sister was his friend’s wife. For that reason, he had been calling at Brimsey House. The courtship had been conducted with propriety. The engagement was the natural conclusion of a private attachment that the pamphlet had prematurely and inaccurately exposed.
Near the terrace doors, a woman in a gown of deep burgundy stepped into their path.
“Your Grace.” Lady Stapleton dipped into a curtsy that lingered a beat too long, her dark eyes sweeping over Hugo with an appreciation that was barely concealed beneath the veneer of politeness.
She was handsome in the sharp, angular way of women who understood that beauty was a weapon and wielded it accordingly.
Her daughter, Miss Stapleton, stood half a step behind. She watched Lady Lily with an attention that felt less like curiosity and more like measurement.
“Lady Stapleton. Miss Stapleton.” Hugo bowed. “A pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace. And Lady Lily.” She turned to Lily with a smile that displayed every tooth. “What a thrilling engagement. Thetonhas talked of little else.”
