Page 20 of The Duke's Second Bride
Ava shook her head. “Don’t bother, Edith.” Her fear of Brandon put a new urgency in her voice. “Let’s go.”
Perhaps hearing the note of terror in Ava’s voice, Edith closed her mouth, nodded, and walked with her friend away from Vanessa and the other mean ladies.
As they walked on, they continued in silence for a moment. Such unpleasant encounters back-to-back seemed to have drained even Edith’s capacity for pleasant chit-chat.
“You needn’t stay with me,” Ava said after a moment.
Edith looked up, as though surprised. “What do you mean?”
“You have a perfectly good reputation, Edith,” Ava said, trying not to choke up as she spoke. “I don’t wish to sully your place in society by associating with you. It isn’t fair. You are sociable, well-liked, and active in the ton. It isn’t right that a friendship with me should be your downfall.”
Edith clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Don’t be silly.” She looked at Ava with empathy shining in her eyes. “A friendship with you is worth more to me than the approval of the entire ton. I swear it. And,” she said, with a light, teasing tone, “if you leave me alone again at this party any time soon, I promise I will have such sharp words for you, it will make everyone else’s rumors seem pleasant by comparison.”
Ava couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, with a threat such as that awaiting me …” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m sorry society can be so cruel. But you won’t help your cause by bowing your head down and disappearing, so chin up! Time for another turn about the room.”
They continued to walk.
As they neared the entrance again, the footman at the front of the room began announcing the new arrivals with a loud, proud voice that echoed through the ballroom.
“His Grace, The Duke of Richmond!”
Ava could not help but turn to look at the entrance alongside the rest of the room. She barely even had a chance to experience the relief of all the eyes no longer weighing on her. Instead, she was roundly distracted by the sight of the duke as he strode into the ballroom.
His strong form pressed against the fabric of his well-tailored suit, his legs muscular where they rose out of his boots. He carried himself well as always, with the easy grace of a man who had spent many of his hours outside, engaged in all kinds of athletic pursuits.
And his eyes. They carried such unknowable depths and such fierce passion. Ava realized, for a breathless moment, that he was looking back at her. Unlike the way she felt when Brandon looked at her, she wasn’t frightened by the intensity of the duke’s gaze.
Rather, she felt warm and liquid deep inside.
It was like holding her hand over an open flame, a moment before it became too hot to bear; she was thrilled by the nearness to something so bright, even if it meant risking being burned.
When he broke eye contact just a short moment later, she tried to tamp down the flicker of disappointment that blazed up alongside her brief desire.
Christian had barely been in the ballroom for thirty seconds before he was accosted.
The first to approach him was the dowager duchess, his aunt, and the grandmother of his late cousins, Jasper and Nicholas.
“Christian!” she cried, a feather bobbing from where it had been stuck into her fashionably coiffed white hair. “Oh, it has been too long. How are you? How is sweet Luke? How old must he be now, eleven? It has been too long since I have seen him, as well! How is the estate? Has he grown out of that dear sweet stutter?”
Christian wasn’t sure how to respond to this bombardment of questions, but he particularly bristled at that last one.
What could he say?
He cleared his throat. He would have to come up with something. “Well?—”
“Ah, Richmond! I was wondering if you would show your face tonight,” a deep, jovial voice said from behind him. He turned to see, with relief, Vincent and his wife, Sophia. “To what do we owe the distinct pleasure of your company?”
Though he was glad to see his friend, amidst this sea of people who only wanted something from him, Christian could not helpbut narrow his eyes with suspicion at the jest. Vincent laughed, clapping a hand on the other man’s shoulder.
“I only jest, friend,” he said kindly. “We’re glad to see you, truly. I was just saying you need to get out to social soirees more often! The ton misses you.”
Christian gave a small, grim smile. “Well, then, I’m sorry to disappoint you and the ton both,” he said. “For I assure you, I am here only for business.”
Vincent clasped both hands against his heart with faux wounded-ness, and both his wife and the dowager duchess laughed at the melodrama.
“Ah, Christian, my boy! That’s not what I like to hear,” the dowager duchess said, her tone disapproving, but not cold, as she wagged a finger at Christian. “You are working far too hard! When was the last time you truly came out just to enjoy yourself?”
