Page 47 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
Frederick had not expected Alice to concede to him so readily, nor to have accepted his offer of a deal. That she had perched herself with such composure upon his arm as he escorted her into Lady Cavendish’s drawing room was, in itself, a quiet victory.
The soiree was an intimate affair—modest in scale, yet promising all the usual diversions: dancing, cards, dinner, and the idle intrigues such evenings invited. Frederick was reasonably certain he wouldn’t be bored.
Especially certain with Alice on his arm.
The moment they entered the room, she searched for Helena, and once she spotted the girl, she dragged him over to speak with her.
“Where is your Mr. Kingsley?” Alice asked in greeting. She hadn’t seemed to notice that in her eagerness to move across the room, she had barely used her stick. “We must speak with him.”
Helena glanced nervously at Frederick, who offered her a reassuring smile. Ordinarily, he would never involve himself in Denshire’s business, but he saw no problems with promoting the match if it was indeed a good enough one. She may be the daughter of a Marquess—the only daughter, moreover—but he had known her since she was a girl, and underneath that shy demeanor, she had a stubborn streak.
A streak he rather suspected his wife would cultivate.
“I shall assist if I believe this Mr. Kingsley is worthy of you,” he whispered. “Just as I would do for any sister of my own.”
“Thank you,” Helena replied coyly.
Alice surveyed the room rather as a general might survey his troops. Frederick found it infuriatingly endearing.
He had never meant to find his wife anything more than passably agreeable. The best case scenario, as far as he was concerned, was for them to get along, have tolerable enthusiasm for one another in bed, and otherwise not interfere too much with each other’s tasks. He wanted her to forgive him, embrace the life he had offered her, and for the rumors around his honor to die down.
Instead, he had a firebrand on his hands who seemed as liable to destroy him as bring him peace, and he found it unaccountably intoxicating.
“Mr. Kingsley is that man over there,” Helena whispered, nodding into a corner where a sandy-haired young man stood alone, a glass of wine in his hands. “Be kind to him. And don’t tell him of my intentions—I have already had to explain once that my mother doesn’t approve of the match, and—”
“Say no more,” Alice replied and turned a sickly sweet smile to Frederick. “You would not say anything, would you,dearest?”
“Upon my honor, never.”
She grunted at the sound of hishonor, sending irritation shooting into his chest, but before he could argue the point, she slipped her hand into his arm and bade him to help her across the room.
Eyes followed them wherever they went. Although some of the talk around their marriage—and its scandalous origins—had died down, they were enough of a rarity that people still went out of their way to glimpse them.
Alice’s spine straightened. “Am I such an oddity?”
“Only when you drink too much.” At her glare, he laughed down at her. “You are not at all such an oddity, but you mustremember how you barged into the church at my first attempt at marriage. It is not your limp that sets you apart.”
Evidently, that was the right thing to say, because her chin lifted again as they reached Mr. Kingsley.
“Your Graces.” The man bowed at once. He was a pleasant-faced lad, young but not overly so—Frederick estimated him to be in his early-to-mid twenties. Not a bad age for a girl of twenty, especially when he intended to distinguish himself in the army.
“Mr. Kingsley! How are you enjoying the party thus far?” Alice slipped her arm from Frederick’s to offer her hand to Mr. Kingsley, who bowed over it in some confusion.
“Very well, Your Grace.” He looked around the room wistfully, and Frederick did not fail to notice the way his gaze fixed on Helena’s for longer than was traditional. “This shall be my last for a while, I fear. I’ll be entering the army as of next month, and I expect I will be training for some time.”
“Oh, of course,” Alice beamed. “If I had a brother, I believe I would be proud if he held such ambitions. What rank?”
“Lieutenant, though I hope to become Captain soon enough.”
“I have no doubt you will,” Alice nodded approvingly. “And then you shall make a very nice addition to our drawing rooms. We do so like to see our redcoats, don’t we, Your Grace?”
Frederick bowed slightly. “Indeed we do. An honorable occupation, to be sure.”
“Well, we younger brothers must make do,” Mr. Kingsley said, bowing a little in response. “And it will be an honor to act in defense of our country.”
Alice sent a questioning glance up at Frederick, and he did his best not to feel too gratified that she was trusting to his knowledge here. “But Napoleon is no longer a threat, is he not?”
“No,” he assured her. “But it is in England’s benefit to maintain a strong army.”
