Page 59 of The Duke's Second Bride
“Well, well, well,” came a stomach-curdling, familiar voice from behind her. Ice water shot through Ava’s veins as she turned around. “If it isn’t the brand new Duchess of Richmond.”
“Good evening, Brandon,” she said, marking how his face was entirely clear of the bruises he had been sporting the last time they were in a room together.
“Though ‘fresh’ seems a poor term for that which has been sullied,” he said, his tone sharp. Ava felt the sting of it as though struck. “Little wonder your husband finds you less … enticing.”
She tried to keep her composure. “I don’t believe we have anything further to say to each other. Our familiar ties no longer exist, Lord Dunfair.”
It was the exact wrong thing to say, she realized, as soon as she saw the sickly grin that spread over Brandon’s face.
“Yes,” he cooed, “that is quite right. You and I are not family at all. Which means I have no compunctions about telling you just how ravishingly beautiful you look tonight.”
“Enough, Brandon,” she snapped.
“Careful, Your Grace,” he said, keeping that annoyingly sweet voice. “No need for a harsh tone.”
She looked around for anyone nearby that she could escape into conversation with. But the band had started up again, and most people in the room were dancing, not anywhere near the refreshment table.
“One would think you would be grateful for a little complimentary attention,” Brandon continued, stepping closer.
She stepped backwards. They were in a crowded ballroom, she reminded herself. No matter what, he wouldn’t dare make a move on her the way he had that horrible night.
“I would be most grateful if you’d leave me alone,” she said coolly, though the slightest tremor betrayed her efforts to appear unmoved.
“Why should I?” he asked, his tone sharp. “Your husband seems more than willing to make the point himself. It must surely wound you—a miserable union with my wretched brother, and now it is only more evident how firmly the Duke of Richmond keeps his distance.”
“Stop,” she said weakly, though her voice grew quieter, and Brandon ignored her.
“I only wish to show you the affection you have been so denied, dear Ava,” he said quietly, pitched so that only she could hear amidst the hustle and bustle of the music and the crowded ballroom. “You needn’t say yes now. I can be very patient. Just know that I can show you a good time, whenever you say the word.”
“The only word I have for you is goodbye, Brandon,” she said firmly.
After a brief pause, he slinked away, still wearing that unshakable smirk.
Without a second thought, Ava took off in the other direction.
She needed to leave this room at any cost.
By the time Christian composed himself enough that he felt he could return to Ava, he couldn’t find her.
A glance around the room revealed nothing—until he looked across the room to the other end, and saw a glimpse of pale yellow-gold silk and honey-blonde hair.
Most worryingly of all, he saw her abominable former brother-in-law walking nearby.
Since Dunfair wasn’t following Ava, Christian suppressed the urge to confront the other man right off the bat.
Instead, he took off in Ava’s direction, crossing the room with long strides and following her outside. He found her standing alone at the very edge of a darkened balcony, resting her elbows on the stone wall.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He saw her shoulders stiffen at the sound of his voice.
“Yes, quite,” she said. But he heard the tremble in her voice—and, as he drew closer, he also saw that her shoulders were shaking heavily.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” she insisted, the trembling halting for a second. “I am quite fine, thank you. I will be back inside in a moment.”
He finally reached her. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low and as gentle as he could make it. “I am sorry I upset you earlier.”
She laughed. It was a low, choked sound. Choked by tears, he realized with a stab through his heart.
