Page 51 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

But perhaps William’s manor would be similarly transformed into something beautiful. He hoped so.

“Are you excited to see your wife?” Anthony asked.

William did not answer, preferring to concentrate on the manor. But as they drew closer and the music drifted out to greet them, he could not help imagining Lydia in his arms as they waltzed together. She had not toyed with him then. She had been nervous and shy and had relied on him to guide her, clinging to his lapels and his hand as if her life depended on it.

Perhaps he could call her bluff if they danced again.

As such, when the carriage came to a halt by the front steps, he did not hesitate. He marched up the steps, leaving Anthony to catch up, and headed decisively for the ballroom.

It was not hard to find, for a steady flow of grandly attired guests were meandering in that direction, pausing only to admire the portraits and landscapes that adorned the beautifully papered, cream and gold walls.

Through the tall double doors, in that fine ballroom, he fully expected to find his wife on the periphery, watching others dance, perhaps daydreaming of their waltz too. After all, his rules dictated that she was not to dance with another gentleman in public, and he was certain that she would, at the very least, abide by that one.

So, it was nothing short of a smack in the face when he caught sight of her, radiant and resplendent, dancing a vigorous country dance with a gentleman who was not him.

Anthony caught up at that moment. “Do not be too hard on her,” he gasped, regaining his breath. “It is expected.”

“No, Anthony, what isexpectedis that I have an obedient wife,” William growled, so incensed by the scene on the dance floor that he did not know what to do with himself.

She lied about the red.

He concentrated on his breathing—in for eight seconds, hold for four seconds, out for ten seconds. He could not lose his calm demeanor in public. He would not have his wife dent yet another facet of his reputation because she found three simple rules so impossible to follow.

“You are married now,” Anthony urged. “This is how married couples are expected to behave. A wifeshoulddance with others for the sake of making friends and allies. A gentlemanshoulddance with others for the same reason.”

William tuned his brother out, transfixed by the vision in pearlescent white who whirled around the dance floor like a heavenly being. He had anticipated a vision in devilish red. He might have been less irked if she had dressed the part of the seductress she had been playing ever since she had ambushed him in London. He hadnotanticipated this.

He never much bothered with fashions, allowing his valet to inform him of what was consideredà la mode. But the gown Lydia wore might have been the most beautiful he had ever seen.

It shimmered like liquid with every twist and turn of her body, the color impossible to explain—white transforming into pink into blue into the palest green. The beading, however, was as she had described it—exquisite. Teardrop shapes that added to the impression that her gown was somehow water, cascading to the floor. Tasseled sleeves, ornately crafted from dangling jewels, winked in the ballroom lights. And if he was not mistaken, her strawberry-blonde hair had been waved and styled as if she had been caught in a charming downpour—somehow appearing wet but not bedraggled. The sort of wet that might inspire a man to heroism.

“Excuse me for a moment,” William said to his brother, not waiting for a reply as he weaved through the crowd.

He kept one eye on his wife as he headed toward the small cluster of people on the far side of the room by the terrace windows, who were as captivated by Lydia as everyone else seemed to be.

“A lovely ball, Duchess.” He dipped his head ever so slightly. “You must be very pleased with it.”

Joanna stared at him in surprise. “Why… thank you, Duke. Yes, I am rather pleased with it.” She gestured out to the dance floor. “Your wife is making yet another fine impression, is she not?”

“Have you seen her card?” he asked abruptly.

Joanna frowned. “Pardon?”

“Her card. Have you seen it?” He did not like having to repeat himself.

Emma stepped in. “Yes, I do believe it is entirely full. What a pity that you were not here earlier, or you might have gained a place on it. Although, if you were to ask nicely, I am certain she would find a spot for you.”

“Thank you.” He flashed a dark smile at Emma and turned his back to the party of Lydia’s friends and family.

I warned you, Lydia. I told you at the tearoom that it would be the last time I tolerated your disregard for my commands.

It was that gown. That sparkling, shimmering,bridalgown. He heard her call him ‘husband’ in his mind, and his blood boiled all the more, despising every light graze of that other gentleman’s hand on his wife. They were chaste enough touches and friendly presses of palm on palm, but he could not accept anyone putting so much as a fingertip on that heavenly gown nor the woman who wore it as if she had been born to wear it.

He halted at the side of the dance floor and stood tall with his arms behind his back. A few ladies made doe eyes at him, and a few gentlemen whispered in amusement, but he ignored them all, his attention entirely fixed on Lydia.

Incensed though he was, he would not behave in a manner that was beneath him. He would be courteous enough to let her finish her dance with this intruder, but that would be all. After that, there would be no further courtesy, no further leniency for her mistakes and blatant breaking of his rules.

“A mite jealous, are you?” a gentleman said amiably, coming to stand at William’s side. “Who would not be with such a wife as that? I, myself, am due to dance the next set with her.”

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