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"Your Grace," Nathaniel began, his tone carrying hope. "If His Grace does not object, and if you would grant me the immense privilege, might I request the honor of your hand for this upcoming set? I assure you, I am a most careful partner and shall not lead you into any sudden collisions on the floor."

Helena froze. She had not intended to dance this evening, preferring to remain safely anchored to the sidelines where she could avoid unnecessary attention. Her eyes automatically swept across the hall, trying to locate George's imposing figure.

He stood near the marble mantle, locked in deep conversation with Lord Scott and Caspian. His back was partially turned to her, making a firm point to the men. He seemed entirely engrossed in his debate, completely oblivious to what was transpiring near Arabella's chaise.

I cannot simply sit here like a timid ghost all evening, Helena thought. Yet if I accept, will George view it as an unnecessary display?

Arabella, noticing Helena's hesitation, reached out and gently tapped Helena's wrist with her fan, offering her an encouraging nod. "Oh, do accept, Helena! It is far too early in the evening to play the wallflower, and Lord Ashford is indisputably the most accomplished dancer in the entire county. A Duchess must show her presence on the floor, and Caspian's guests would be delighted to see you dance."

Nathaniel remained standing patiently before her, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, making no effort to pressure her decision. He simply waited, treating her with the dignity of a woman whose choices were entirely her own to command.

Helena looked up into Nathaniel's calm eyes, finding his polite demeanor deeply reassuring. She offered him a bright smile, placing her gloved hand lightly into his open palm as she rose gracefully. "I should be delighted to dance with you, Lord Ashford."

"The honor is entirely mine, Your Grace," Nathaniel replied, gently escorting her toward the center of the parquet floor, taking immense care to guide her around the bustling clusters of guests.

They took their places in the long set for the country dance, standing opposite one another as the violins struck up a lively, structured melody. Unlike the rapid intimacy of a waltz, the country dance allowed partners to step forward, meet in the center, turn gracefully, and retreat, providing distinct moments of quiet conversation between the movements of the set.

As the dance commenced, Nathaniel executed his first steps with precision, maintaining an appropriate social distance while keeping his eyes fixed politely on her face.

"Have you found London agreeable, Your Grace?" Nathaniel asked as they stepped forward to meet in the center of the line, his tone carrying genuine curiosity.

Helena turned gracefully, her emerald silk dress swirling around her ankles. "I am beginning to."

Nathaniel raised a soft eyebrow, stepping back in time with the music before advancing again for the second turn. "Beginning?"

Helena smiled. "I think London requires practice."

Nathaniel let out a pleasant laugh, bowing his head slightly as they crossed hands. "A sensible conclusion. It is rather like learning to play chess."

Helena's smile broadened, memories of her late-night chess matches with George flashing through her mind. She looked at Nathaniel with renewed interest, stepping back into line. "Do you play?"

"Chess? Badly," Nathaniel confessed.

"Then you are probably more sensible than most men who play well," Helena remarked.

Nathaniel only chuckled. "I have seen too many pawns sacrificed in the ton to wish more practice on the game board."

Helena felt her chest tighten as his words struck a chord deep within her soul. That is George, she realized with a quiet, lingering shock. That is precisely how George views the world. Constantly arranging every variable, every household rule, and every public promenade.

She looked at Nathaniel, deeply surprised by the intellect behind his calm exterior.

"It must be an extraordinary challenge," Nathaniel continued gently, his eyes searching her face as they stepped back into their positions, "to step so suddenly into a role of such immense public prominence. The transition from a quiet life to carrying the weight of a historic dukedom cannot be an easy path to walk."

Helena was genuinely taken aback. To the matrons of society, she was simply the lucky young woman who had secured the most formidable bachelor; to the gentlemen, she was the new Duchess of Cavendish, a decorative figure intended only to grace the head of George's table. Even George himself, for all his protective care, focused entirely on managing her safety, organizing her security, and establishing boundaries, rarely stopping to inquire how her heart was faring beneath the weight of her new reality.

"It is a path that requires great fortitude, Lord Ashford," Helena admitted softly, her voice carrying unreserved honesty as they stepped forward again. "One must learn to navigate the expectations of others while remaining true to one's own principles. But I am surrounded by those who care deeply for the family's welfare."

"Including young Lord Oliver, I presume?" Nathaniel asked smoothly, his tone filled with genuine interest. "The Duchess of Glastonbury mentioned the infant joined you on the journey. It is a noble thing, taking on the care of another's child."

"He is a marvelous child," Helena said, her eyes lighting with warmth at the mention of Oliver. "He brings an immense amount of joy to Cavendish Manor, despite the heavy responsibilities that await his future."

"Then he is exceptionally fortunate to have you as his Duchess," Nathaniel said softly, bowing his head. "A child does not merely require titles and grand estates; he requires a guide who understands the value of character."

Helena felt ease settle over her spirit as the dance continued. A simple conversation, without watching for hidden barbs or dancing around George's rules, refreshed something dry and weary within her.

However, as the set reached its final movement, bringing the dancers into a slow, sweeping circle, Helena turned her head to complete the final figure of the dance, and her heart instantly dropped into her throat.

Standing just beyond the edge of the dance floor, near the massive stone archway leading to the conservatory, was George, face stricken with unimaginable rage.