Page 34 of Her Tiger of a Duke
When Owen saw his wife in the ballroom, his breath caught in his throat.
He had dressed for the occasion, wearing his very best clothing so that they could play their parts, but he had not expected her to do the same. She stood before him in the best gown he had bought for her and with her hair pinned up in a way that must have taken hours. He could not take his eyes off her.
At least, he blamed the gown for his piqued interest.
“I have arranged for some musicians to play,” he explained. “I thought you might appreciate it… for realism.”
“I do. Thank you.”
The musicians took their cue, the first notes of a waltz beginning. He stepped toward her, the echo of his boots loud against the marble, but he also knew that everything sounded louder whenhe was nervous. He offered his hand, and she hesitated for a moment before placing her gloved fingers in his. Her hand was smaller than he’d expected, warm even through the thin silk.
They began to move. There was an intimacy to it, and Owen knew in that moment why a waltz was considered scandalous in comparison to a quadrille. Her eyes did not meet his often, and when they did something sharp and unsteady fluttered in his chest, something that he had not expected to feel at all, nor what he wanted.
“You dance well,” she complimented. “If I did not know any better, I would have said that you have arranged all of this simply to dance with me.”
She was more correct than he was willing to admit, because in truth he had gotten the idea from wanting to spend time with her. He had suggested that it was to practice because it made it easier than telling the truth, though he was beginning to wonder if that was what he should have done in the first place.
“I was taught well,” he admitted. “Dancing one of the few things I managed to learn properly, much to my father’s confusion.”
That drew a faint laugh from her, and it startled him how much he liked it. She leaned forward as she did so, and her step faltered just slightly. He caught her waist instinctively, and when she looked up at him his words left him entirely. All that he could think of, in spite of his better judgment, was that her father was wrong to ever make her feel lesser-than.
For a moment, they stood too close, the music playing on. Owen did not move, nor did she. He could smell the faint trace of her perfume, orange blossom, and the memory of their wedding day haunted him.
It had been too formal, too quickly organized, and though that had to be the case he wished that they had been able to take their time. Knowing her as he was starting to, he wanted nothing more than to have given her what she deserved, because perhaps then she might not have been so certain that she was undeserving of what she had.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, continuing slowly.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, his voice lower now, his thumb brushing the satin at her side before he could stop himself. “That is why we are practicing, after all.”
They began to move again, slower this time, their rhythm no longer quite matching the music. The orchestra might as well have vanished for all Owen cared, for nothing existed to him but the lady in his arms, the one that he could not quite understand but that he so desperately wanted to.
When the final note faded, neither spoke. He bowed slightly, because it was easier than saying anything that might betray the feeling in his chest. She curtseyed, composed, and he wished that he could see something more in her so that he did not think that he was such a fool.
“Thank you for the dance,” she said simply.
“The pleasure was entirely mine. Now, might we try a quadrille?”
“Can you practice those with two people?”
He laughed, the moment dissipating. He was pleased to let the feelings go for the time being, for he could not stomach the thought of falling for his wife. Bad things happened to those he loved, and he could not allow that to befall her.
When their time together came to an end, and he bowed and she curtseyed once again, he noticed that she was looking beyond him, as if he were not there. There was a distance in her face that was not there before, and she could not quite meet his eye.
He wanted to ignore it, terrified that she was keeping something from him that would lead to another dispute, but he could not bear to look at her like that. He wanted her to feel better, and if that meant that he would have to bite his tongue and not pass judgment, then so be it.
“If something is troubling you, I would rather know.”
“I imagine.”
“And I whatever is on your mind, should you wish to share it with me, I promise not to become overly vexed. If there is something that you need to tell me, you must. I do not want you to keep things from me.”
She took a breath, stepping back.
“I believe that I know why I was never liked by my father.”
Owen blinked, turning his head to one side in surprise. He had not known what to expect, but it was not that. If she had been thinking about her childhood while they were dancing, then it meant that their time together did not mean nearly as much to her as it did him.
“Whatever you think it is, there is no excuse for you not being loved as you should have been.”
