Page 64 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“Frederick!” Esther called suddenly. “Your Grace!” She stood just a few feet away, already among friends. “Will you come here a moment!”

His Grace sighed. “Will you be all right on your own?’ he asked her.

“Somehow, I think I will manage.”

Again, his hand traced her back lightly. “Do not go too far.” He looked right at her; she felt her heart seize, for she thought he was about to kiss her… a most dangerous act. But then he winked and pulled away, stalking to where Esther stood waiting.

The group of lords whom she was with did not look too pleased at having to meet His Grace. In fact, they looked terrified! Caroline chuckled at the sight, knowing the reputation His Grace had while knowing it was far from reality.

Once she was certain he was busy, however, Caroline acted quickly. Head down, one hand covering the side of her face, she moved through the busy ballroom, heading for the corner where there was a small alcove. It was hidden and remote, a perfect spot to hide without it being obvious that she was doing so. With any luck, she might spend the rest of the night there and make it out of here in one piece.

Caroline had not wanted to attend the ball tonight, and if she had not wanted to draw attention or cause a fuss, she might have stayed home. Alas, Esther had insisted—demanded, more like—complaining nonstop that it was expected of them until His Grace eventually relented and agreed to go.

Funny that if this was three days ago, he might still have denied his grandmother, not caring one way or the other about what was expected. But his mood had soared these past two days such that it barely took any convincing at all. If anything, he seemed to look forward to it!

The irony was bitter to swallow, and Caroline could not escape the realization that she was the reason for this good mood, and thus she was the reason that he seen to her agreeing to come, and that she was thus the reason that she was here at all. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

Through the ballroom she moved, not daring to meet faces. It was a mass of colorfully dressed bodies only, swirling and dancing and moving to and fro, music playing, drinks flowing, laughter had by all. Hopefully, the cacophony of people packedinto the small room would be enough that she would go unnoticed.

She made it to the alcove unmolested, ducked into it, pressed herself against the wall, and took a deep breath. Although this ball was smaller than those she had attended in her old life, it was still busy enough that there was bound to be somebody here from London who might recognize her. The hosts, Lord and Lady Westchester, were names that she recognized but did not know well which meant that her father likely knew of them which meant?—

Her chest began to grow tight. Her breathing became labored. Surely, her father would not be here? He hated balls. And without a daughter to parade about as he used to do, there was no reason for it. But what if…

Despite herself, Caroline found her head peeking out from around the alcove, glancing quickly, searching the mass of faces to make sure that indeed her father was nowhere in sight. If he was… that was not something she wished to?—

“Hiding from someone?” A voice spoke from right behind her.

“Oh!” Caroline just about had a heart attack as she spun about, clutching her chest, and then scowling to see Lord Fernside standing there, grinning stupidly. “Lord Fernside! What do you think you are doing, sneaking up on me like that?”

He shrugged. “I would not have to sneak if you were not hiding.”

“I am not hiding,” she said, keeping the scowl. She liked Lord Fernside enough, even if he was a tad childish. “I am simply…” She clicked her tongue as she considered.

“I will wait,” he said with that same grin, “until you come up with an answer.”

“Getting some space,” she finally managed. “It is rather crowded here, and I am not a fan of crowds.”

“Ah… of course.” His eyes flashed, an indication that he did not believe her. “So, you’re not hiding then, let’s say, from someone whom you would very much rather avoid this night…” A raised eyebrow, and Caroline felt her heart race.

Did he know? Had he somehow figured it out? Surely not! For if he had, he would tell His Grace as they were best friends. Unless he wanted something? Unless he meant to blackmail her.

“From Frederick,” he chuckled. “Or His Grace as I should call him. Never much got used to the title though, truth be told.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh—I mean, oh. Ye - yes. How did you know?”

“I am perceptive like that,” he said simply. “Although I must say…” He stepped in closer to her. A big man, much like His Grace, his presence made the alcove feel suddenly cramped. “… it hurts me that the two of you are still not getting along.”

“It does?” She glanced over her shoulder, not sure if she was looking for His Grace or making sure they were not seen.

“He is a good man, His Grace,” Lord Fernside said with an honest cadence. “A little rough around the edges but a good man, nonetheless. The best of men, in fact.”

“I know it.”

“Do you, though?” he sighed. “Would you be hiding here if you did—and I know, it is none of my business,” he then hurried. “And I assume that the two of you are still fighting over that little quarrel from last week.” A roll of the eyes and another forlorn sigh. “But I ask that you see it in yourself to look past that singular transgression. I know Frederick… His Grace would appreciate it if you did.”

Caroline frowned as she began to understand what this conversation, and this ambush, was about. Lord Fernside had sought her out to ask her… to beg, just about… to forgive His Grace and give him a chance. Likely, with romantic implications.

It was so out of the blue and unexpected that Caroline almost laughed. She managed to stifle that notion, however, and tried for a smile instead. “I appreciate what you are saying, and I know…” She tittered. “And I understand what you are saying.”

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