Page 62 of His Haunted Duchess
“I am also with you,” he said, sincerely, “and that makes me a fortunate man, indeed.”
A passing earl stared at them. Frederic glared at him. The earl had been one of the friends with his father—if such a base relationship could be so named between men who waste their lives away together.
Frederic raised his chin. At least, heaven knew, he had nothing to be ashamed of, and Caroline certainly didn’t. He stared, challenging his father’s former acquaintance with his eyes. The earl blinked then hurried forward to the card room.
Frederic curled his lip. Some men didn’t change.
Caroline’s hand brushed her face where the jagged scar cut across her jaw. Her face, just for that moment, reminded him of that night in the library. She had been so afraid—and so open. Frederic leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Soft curls brushed his face.
“Have you had any nightmares lately?”
Caroline opened her mouth to reply. Something rustled startlingly close behind them.
“Ah! My dear friend, the Duke of Blackmore!” Felicity Flounters swept a grand curtsey to Frederic. She nodded to Caroline. “And—Caroline! So good to see you again.”
Frederic frowned. Felicity conveniently hadn’t addressed Caroline by her title. The daughter of a marquess should know better. Caroline smiled artlessly. Her lack of guile was admirable, especially considering—but it didn’t due to think ill of anyone, however much he suspected Felicity might have deserved it.
“How fortunate to see you out in public, Your Grace,” Felicity gushed as she fanned herself. “We had quite begun to wonder if Frederic had really married at all, but here you are at last!”
Her smile made Frederic feel as if he had eaten spoiled fruit.
“I am much more comfortable at home,” Caroline said, a little discomfited, “but tonight I accompany my husband which brings no end of comfort, and so I am at peace.”
What a gracious reply. Felicity, however, either blind or insensible, didn’t seem to hear it.
“Some people said—but of course, I shouldn’t repeat what you no doubt already know.”
Felicity coughed behind her hand. Caroline blushed. Frederic moved to intercede, but just then the server appeared, decanter in hand. Felicity took advantage of the pause like an urchin after a coin.
“Some people still talk about the old scandal, you know—the one the wedding covered. I wouldn’t be one to repeat it, but they say the whole thing came about because of the curse.”
Frederic slammed his drink down on a side table. The nerve! Caroline and Felicity both jumped. He had thought—well, he had thought incorrectly, it seemed, as he had judged Felicity’s character to be far more superficial than vicious. He offered his hand to Caroline, addressing Felicity with as little derision as he could muster.
“Only children believe in superstitions. Perhaps those who perpetuate such things should stay at home with their nursemaids and stories. I am surprised at you, my lady, for repeating such falsehoods—and to my wife of all people.”
Felicity’s mouth dropped open in surprise.Good. Let someone else share their thoughts for a change.
He turned to Caroline. “Would you honor me, madam? I’m much inclined to dance.”
Caroline blushed with pleasure and stood immediately, curtseying a farewell to Felicity as she took his hand. He had seen the look on Felicity’s face before—once, when Philip had snatched a bone from one of the hounds and the creature had bared its teeth, snarling.
She could bare whatever teeth she liked. He feared no bite from her. He nodded curtly and led Caroline to the dance floor, leaving Felicity red-faced, eyes flashing, and alone.
This evening had not gone at all the way he had expected. He hadn’t, it was to be admitted, expected much, but he had at least hoped to enjoy a small portion of the ball without being harried by?—
His eyes found Caroline’s. Their warmth spread over him like a winter fire on the hearth. She was so beautiful. It burbled up inside her and leaked out in light like an aurora borealis. And so calm! So poised! How could she maintain her composure under such trying circumstances?
The dance started. He stepped forward and took her hand. She pressed it with a smile. A flush tickled the edge of his chin. She looked at him quizzically.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m glad. I was worried—” she stopped. Curiosity piqued him.
“What is it?”
“I was worried that I might be—” Her eyes fell to the floor. “You are my first dance partner. I wanted—I hoped—I would be a sufficient partner.”
