Cleavers bowed with a deep flourish.
Amelia dipped into an equally low curtsey – after all, he was a duke now – and then rose to…
With his lady wife aside him, Sir Edmund was standing in their midst, his smile broad. “Forgive the interruption, my friends, but before you all depart for refreshment, I would like to say a few words…”
Dancers shuffled back just as other guests shuffled forward to stand at their shoulders, until Sir Edmund and his wife were encircled by an attentive throng, waiters weaving between with trays of champagne.
The Duke of Cleavers grabbed two glasses and crossed the circle to hand one to Amelia.
Sir Edmund cleared his throat. “Welcome all and thank you for attending at such short notice. I have the utmost pleasure in hosting this ball tonight for two special reasons.” He splayed an arm. “The first is to celebrate the return of my beautiful wife to our London social whirl. Since we met so many years ago now, she has been my constancy and my strength, and to have her by my side once more tonight has made me a man both proud and humble. I ask you all to join me in a toast.” He raised his glass. “To my beloved wife, Lady Twyford.”
The lady blushed but smiled as glasses were raised high in her direction.
“But there is a second cause for celebration tonight.” Sir Edmund’s white eyebrows shuffled like swan’s down. “For I also have the utmost honour in announcing the betrothal of two of the finest people I know.”
Amelia frowned. Especially as Lady Kemb… Enid was winking at her from across the circle.
“So it is with great pleasure that I do hereby announce the betrothal of the honourable Mr Hugh Cadwalader of the Welsh Cadogan-Cadwaladers…”
A low murmur of anticipation swept the ballroom. Amelia’s fingers numbed, Cleavers catching her champagne glass.
Her mouth dried as Sir Edmund’s eyes tur–
“And the estimable Miss Amelia Lambert.” His arm now swept in her direction. “Daughter of the Duke of Swanford and Alice Lambert.”
Her throat seized as a hundred eyes snapped her way. A light-headedness consumed, heat enveloping, and the white room blurred to–
Fingers entwined with her own.
A firm arm to her waist.
Broad chest to her back.
She dared to turn.
Met resolute azure eyes.
“Hugh?”
“We stand as one, Amelia. For eternity.”
She felt tears smart. In a simpleCascadecravat, an amber silk jacket with a white rosebud in the lapel and a waistcoat of cream silk, he looked in fine fettle…most fine. And undeniably not asleep in his bed.
And Amelia realised the wool had been quite thoroughly pulled over her eyes, that she’d been spun a yarn by them all –Lady Kemble, Phoebe, Mrs Dawkins, Cleavers, Sally, Cruikshank and…
Hugh’s hand cupped her cheek. “I love you, Miss Lambert.”
Then he kissed her. Quite rigorously.
There in the middle of the ballroom. The mostScandalousHugh Cadwalader.
“A toast,” Amelia vaguely heard Sir Edmund proclaim above the hubbub.
Glasses clinked but a wave of murmurs waxed and waned, a minor commotion seeming to sweep the ballroom. Whispers gusted and skirts flurried as ladies turned their backs. Was the gossip of her mother wending its way amongst the guests?
Feathers dipped from sight and gentlemen’s heads lowered as though a maelstrom blew through the ballroom, knocking them like dominoes.
Amelia frowned and…and…
