Page 53 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

Louise had attended several balls, but nothing quite like this.

Her family had never been exalted enough to receive an invitation to the Barringtons’ ball, and she looked around eagerly as they walked into the room.

The grand ballroom was filled with the crème de la crème of Society. Anybody who wished to make a name for themselves or who already had was in attendance.

The atmosphere inside was lively, a warm ambiance created by the candlelight all around the room. Louise was doubly glad of her beautiful gown, for only the height of fashion was permitted on such an occasion.

Ladies walked ahead of her in every color imaginable. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, and a quadrille was already in full swing.

Louise glanced up at Christian and struggled to breathe. He was the picture of aristocratic arrogance, looking around the room as though everyone in it existed to do his bidding. To her dismay, she observed that fact with something akin tofondness.

He does look impossibly handsome this evening. It is so unfair.

Christian’s arm tightened around her own as they moved through the room. There were a lot of people staring at them or glancing in their direction and then whispering together.

When she had first been labeled as the Iron Harridan, Louise had experienced a great deal of scrutiny, but this was different. Here, people did not look upon her with disdain. They were curious about her, and many appeared in awe of the Duke, who held himself as though he belonged there.

What he must have done to fight for his position, given what his mother told me…

Louise could not imagine how unpleasant it must have been for Marcus and Christian in the beginning—they must have been shunned by more than just her father.

As they reached the edge of the dance floor, the Duke of Stonewell materialized before them. He was dressed as strictly as the other men in the room but had far simpler clothing than Christian. It was clear that the two gentlemen had different tastes in fashion. Christian wore the latest style of everything, experimenting with different colors and looks, whereas the Duke of Stonewell was far more conservative in his appearance.

“Stonewell,” Christian greeted as the two men bowed to one another. “Have you been here for long?”

“Hours. You are very late.” It was clear that Gabriel meant it in jest, although he did not smile at all.

Christian glared at Louise as though his friend were serious.

She sighed wearily and smiled at Gabriel. “Is your sister here tonight?” she asked.

“She is. I believe she is dancing.” Gabriel turned around, his sharp eyes surveying the figures on the dance floor. He nodded at Charlotte, who was speaking merrily with a very tall, red-headed man.

“Waldron is still in pursuit, then,” Christian remarked.

Gabriel’s face darkened. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Louise glanced at the man Charlotte was dancing with. He seemed perfectly harmless, but her brother appeared up in arms about it.

“I think I shall go to the refreshments table,” she said. “It is rather stuffy in here.”

She released Christian’s arm, expecting that he would stay and talk to his friend and allow her her freedom, now that she was a married woman. Instead, he immediately moved to follow her.

“It is only a short walk away, Christian. You should stay and speak with the Duke.”

Christian did not reply but simply took her arm again and guided her toward the table. Perplexed, she glanced up at him and caught him glaring at a rather severe-looking man who was eyeing her with interest.

Now that she had observed Christian for some time, she realized that he was glaring at almost every man in the room as though he might call them out.

I never would have thought I would enjoy a man’s jealousy, but there is something about the way he looks at them that makes me feel protected. I cannot explain it.

They reached the refreshments table, which was laden with drinks and food of every kind. There were pies, pastries, cheeses, and cold meats. Along the back were large bowls filled with jellies and what looked like an enormous blancmange. Tarts and pastries overflowed on plates on every side beside a plethora of wine, punch, and champagne. Louise was surprised that the table didn’t collapse.

“What would you like?” Christian asked, his gaze fixed on a gentleman on the right-hand side of the table, helping himself to some cake.

“I simply wished to fetch myself a glass of punch. I did not need you to accompany me—you have left your friend all alone in the center of the room.”

“He will survive, I am sure,” Christian said as he summoned a footman, who poured her a glass of punch. When it was placed in her hands, Christian took her arm again, and she looked up at him with a frown.

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