Page 85 of Debating with the Duke (Second Sons of London 2)

Hope sprang within him. “I will make certain that Addie knows exactly how I feel about her. The woman she is. The woman I want.”

“When you do, Everett, make certain you address her as Addie,” Tessa suggested. “She was deeply wounded when you placed her in the carriage and sent her away. Because you called her Adalyn.”

He nodded, understanding filling him. “Thank you, Tessa. You have saved our marriage.”

Everett led her back into the ballroom and they parted. He returned outside and found a bench to sit upon, where he tried to think of how and when he would address the problems between Addie and him. It finally came to him. He needed to make a bold statement in order for her to truly believe what he told her.

Returning to the ballroom, he stopped a footman and asked how many dances were left before the ball ended.

“There are two dances left this evening, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” he said, wondering how Lord Martindale’s footman knew that Everett was a duke. It was just another of the mysteries of theton.

Everett planned to ask his wife to dance the last number of the evening.

And he needed it to be a waltz.

To guarantee one would be played, he moved to where the musicians sat and waited patiently until they finished the piece they were playing.

Leaning toward a violin player, the closest to him, he asked, “Who is in charge?”

“I am,” the man told him, obviously curious that a guest of Lord Martindale’s would seek out an orchestra player.

“Will the final song be a waltz?”

“No, that is not what Lord Martindale wishes.”

Giving the man his best ducal look, he said, “I am the Duke of Camden and I believe a waltz is what you will play to finish out the evening. Is that understood?”

Nervously, the man nodded his head. “Of course, Your Grace. We will do as you ask.”

“Thank you. My duchess and I appreciate your flexibility.”

Everett stepped away from the violinist and watched the next to last dance begin, slowly making his way around the edge of the ballroom, his eyes on Addie the entire way. She sat between two women, one he did not know and the other a duchess he had been introduced to previously. Addie sat quietly, nodding occasionally, letting her much older companions do all the talking. It struck him that his wife sat in the exact same manner as the duchess beside her, imitating the duchess’ manner.

This would end. Tonight. And Addie would be free to be herself once again.

When the number ended and the dancers left the ballroom floor, he made his way to his wife.

He came to stand in front of her and said, “May I have this final dance, Your Grace?” knowing she would not be churlish and refuse him in front of all the matrons sitting there.

Addie rose. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

She extended her hand and he took it, leading her to the very center of the room.

“This is not a waltz,” she told him. “Lord Martindale is very old-fashioned and he still believes the waltz to be some newfangled dance. I am told it was only played for the supper dance because his daughter begged for it.”

He grinned unabashedly. “I arranged for it to be a waltz,” he informed her.

Surprise filled her face as he took her in hand. The music began and he swept her away, his heart racing at what he was about to do. It would pain him to be the center of attention of so many people—but he would do what it took to convince Addie he wanted her exactly as she was. Everett decided to enjoy at least half of the waltz, not knowing if when he finished making his declaration if his wife would ever wish to waltz with him in public again.

Tamping down the apprehension that filled him, he brought them to a halt as other pairs of dancers twirled by them.

“What . . . why are you stopping?” Addie asked, her confusion plain.

Everett captured her hands in his, holding them tightly, afraid she might flee the dance floor.

“I must speak to you, Addie.”

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