Page 31 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"The stir is hardly positive," Elizabeth murmured, noting the sideways glances and whispered comments behind fans. "I fear I've given the gossips fresh fodder by displaying my...imperfection so boldly."

"Nonsense." Dinah squeezed her arm. "You look regal. Though I must say, your lord husband seems to have developed quite the possessive streak. He's watching you even now."

Elizabeth glanced up to find Cecil's dark blue eyes fixed on her over Lady Pembrooke's shoulder, his expression holding something that made her breath catch. Even surrounded by society beauties, his gaze remained locked on her.

"He's probably ensuring I don't embarrass him," Elizabeth said, but the words lacked conviction. There was nothing of criticism in that heated look—only a promise that made her skin tingle with awareness.

The first set of dances began, and Elizabeth noticed Cecil engaged in conversation with a group of gentlemen near the far side of the ballroom. He seemed entirely disinterested in dancing, despite being one of the most sought-after partners.

"I'm surprised the earl isn't dancing," Dinah observed, following Elizabeth's gaze. "Usually, he's the center of attention."

"Perhaps marriage has tempered his social appetites," Elizabeth replied, though her voice held a hint of uncertainty.

"I thought you said your marriage was one of convenience," Dinah ventured carefully. "Yet you sound almost?—"

"Don't say it." Elizabeth tore her eyes away. "I'm merely observing."

"They think," Dinah said gently, "that the Earl of Stonefield can't keep his eyes off his wife, even while conversing with others. He's looked your way at least four times during this set alone."

"Probably ensuring I haven't fled in embarrassment." Elizabeth touched her scar unconsciously. "I've noticed the stares, Dinah. The whispers behind fans. They all wonder what sort of spell I must have cast to trap London's most eligible rake into marriage."

"Or perhaps they wonder why he looks at you as though he'd like to devour you whole, protocol be damned."

Elizabeth's cheeks flamed at her friend's frank observation. "Dinah!"

"Well, he does. In fact—" Dinah's eyes widened slightly. "He's heading this way now."

Elizabeth turned to find Cecil approaching, his expression holding that dangerous intensity that never failed to make her pulse race.

"My lady wife," he said, executing a perfect bow. "I believe this next set is mine."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your conversations," Elizabeth said, a slight challenge in her voice. "You seemed quite engaged with your companions."

Cecil's smile held a hint of mischief. "There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you."

Cecil's fingers tightened around hers as he led her onto the floor. "Jealous, wife?"

"Of your popularity? Hardly." But she couldn't quite meet his eyes as they took their positions for the waltz. "I'm well aware of your reputation for charm."

"And yet," he pulled her closer than strictly proper as the music began, "you're the only woman in this room wearing my mother's emerald necklace."

Elizabeth's breath caught at his proximity. Despite her earlier protests about knowing the steps, her body followed his lead naturally, as if they'd danced together a hundred times before. His hand at her waist burned through the silk of her gown, making it difficult to concentrate.

"I didn't realize it was your mother's," she managed, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the way his thumb traced small circles against her back.

"It suits you." His voice dropped lower, meant for her ears alone. "Though I must say, the gown itself is proving rather distracting. I've spent most of the evening imagining how it would look pooled at your feet."

"Cecil!" She nearly missed a step, heat flooding her cheeks. "There are people watching."

"Let them watch." His smile held a wicked edge. "Let them see how their dignified countess flushes so prettily when her husband whispers in her ear. Let them wonder what other sounds I might draw from those perfect lips when we're alone."

Elizabeth's heart thundered against her ribs. "You're being deliberately shocking."

"I'm being honest." He guided her through a turn that brought their bodies flush together for a moment. "Though I notice you haven't stepped on my toes yet. Perhaps you weren't entirely truthful about your dancing abilities?"

"I never claimed to be incompetent," Elizabeth retorted, though her voice lacked bite. "Merely...out of practice."

"Then we shall have to practice more often." His hand splayed possessively across her back. "Though preferably somewhere more private, where I won't have to maintain such rigid propriety."

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