Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“Well? Anything to tell me?” Daphne prodded, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and amusement. “Your husband looked like he was about to throttle someone. Then, he practically announced to the entire ballroom that you were with him.”
Victoria felt heat rise to her cheeks. The memory of Richard’s hand on her back, the possessive tilt of his body, and the weight of his gaze made her pulse thrum even now.
She linked arms with her sister as they moved through the opulent ballroom, music swirling around them and the chatter of the ton filling the spaces between melodies. But Victoria barely noticed. Daphne’s presence grounded her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
“About what?” Victoria asked lightly, trying to mask the way her heart still raced.
She hoped her tone suggested ignorance, though Daphne’s knowing glance told her otherwise.
“Ah, never mind,” Daphne said with a sigh, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It doesn’t seem like you’re ready to discuss that. How are you, Vicky? Really?”
Victoria’s breath caught. How could she explain? The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, frantic care for a child who was not her own, and constant tension with a husband who alternately infuriated and intrigued her. She hesitated before speaking.
“Melody … she’s finally responding to me, Daphne!” she said, a thread of excitement in her voice. “Richard found a midwife, Mrs. Tallow, and—”
“Vicky,” Daphne interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. “I didn’t ask about Melody. I know she’s in good hands. I want to know about you. How you are managing all of this. I’ve never seen you like this—so unsettled, so … distracted.”
Victoria lowered her voice, afraid someone nearby might overhear. “I know, Daphne. I feel utterly consumed. It’s like … I couldn’t understand what life was before she appeared at our door. And now …” She trailed off, words failing her.
Her eyes flicked across the ballroom, and for a fleeting moment, she found Richard’s gaze locked on hers. Her chest tightened.
Daphne’s curiosity softened into a gentle nudge. “And what about Richard?”
Victoria’s heart skipped. Her voice fell to a whisper, confessional. “He … he kissed me, Daphne. He kissed me … like he meant it.”
Daphne’s eyes widened in surprise, and then a slow, delighted smile spread across her face. “He kissed you? And you’re only telling me now?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Victoria admitted, biting the inside of her cheek.
“Well, it must have been quite the scene,” Daphne teased. “But more importantly … how do you feel about it? I saw the way he looked at the marquess when he came over earlier.”
Victoria shivered, the word claim echoing in her mind.
Claim her. Was that what it had been?
She scanned the room instinctively, looking for Richard. Across the crowded hall, she saw him, speaking with Jonathan, his posture casual, but his gaze sharp and unyielding.
“He can be … very infuriating,” Victoria said, her tone a mix of exasperation and admiration.
“He’s cold, commanding, and used to leading.
But he cares about Melody. He really does.
And he’s found a way to soothe her even …
And I … I’ve been at my wits’ end. He’s also …
determined to protect us. He’s not the brute I thought he was. ”
Daphne followed her gaze, noting Richard’s steady stare. A mischievous glint crossed her eyes. “If you don’t already know, he’s watching you, Vicky. He looks like he’d throttle the marquess if he even breathed in your direction again. Perhaps … he has feelings for you too.”
Victoria felt the warmth of her cheeks deepen, her pulse quickening. She tried to look away, focusing on her sisters instead, but her eyes betrayed her. Richard’s gaze had not faltered, a silent tether that drew her attention back to him again and again.
“Nonsense, Daphne,” she said quickly, trying to convince herself as much as her sister. “He’s merely feeling guilty about the situation. He thinks I shouldn’t have to take care of someone else’s child to the point of exhaustion.”
But as the words left her mouth, Victoria realized the truth: it wasn’t guilt that kept him so intent upon her, it was concern. Care. Something deeper. The exhaustion she had stubbornly borne alone, the sleepless nights, the constant effort. He had noticed, and he could not abide it.
Daphne’s skeptical arch of the brow made Victoria flush hotter. Twins had a sixth sense for truth.
“Guilt? It does not sound like it, Vicky,” Daphne said, voice soft but sharp, cutting through Victoria’s denial.
Victoria let out a short, frustrated laugh, conceding more to herself than to her sister.
“Perhaps,” she murmured, her heart still in her throat, and her gaze drifting once more toward the man across the room who held so much of her attention.
Why had he not followed her immediately?
Richard asked himself the question over and over, though he already knew the answer. Pride. Restraint. A need to maintain the calm, composed image of the Duke of Hawksford. And yet, every second spent watching her from across the room was like a trial.
His gaze lingered on Victoria, tracking the subtle movements that always made his chest tighten.
The tilt of her head as she listened to Daphne.
The soft flare of her lips when she laughed at something her sister said.
The way her hands moved, precise yet unguarded, as she gestured.
Every gesture, every glance, every tiny expression carved itself into his memory.
“You are going to burn a hole through your own wife from here, Hawksford,” Jonathan said, his voice teasing yet sharp, pulling Richard out of his private reverie.
“I believe we are here to show the ton a united front. You’ve accomplished that already.
But really, you should be walking with her, not staring like some lovesick fool from across the room. ”
Richard’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Jonathan,” he muttered, low and controlled.
Jonathan’s grin widened, undeterred. “Ah, there it is. I knew that tone. You know I’m right.
I also know exactly which buttons to press.
” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“I could walk over there and compliment her. Tell her how her beauty has captivated half the guests. Surely that would make your blood boil.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I do not like being manipulated, Cotswell. You know that. And do not speak of my wife as if the two of you share familiarity or intimacy. Enough of that.”
“It is merely a nudge,” Jonathan said lightly, uncaring of the sharpness in Richard’s tone.
“You’re growing fond of her, Hawksford. And really …
that’s a good thing. Some might say it is a necessity.
Arranged marriages that do not develop into anything else?
Cold, lonely, miserable. You could avoid that, you know, if you let her in a little. ”
Richard shook his head, a bitter twist to his lips. “It is a dangerous thing. Catastrophic, even. Penwike’s still around. Which means he’s still a threat. I cannot afford to give them leverage. Not over my family, not over my wife, not over … anything.”
Jonathan’s expression softened, but his teasing remained.
“Penwike again? Hawksford, I can see you care for Victoria. Surely no one will mistake your concern for weakness. And as for Penwike, now that you have a wife and a ward to protect, he’d be a fool to try anything.
The ton will see him as a villain if he does, and you are more than capable of handling him. ”
Richard exhaled sharply, frustration and longing mixing in his chest. His gaze flicked back to Victoria.
She was surrounded now by a cluster of gossipy ladies, faces sharp with curiosity and predatory interest. The woman pressed questions with the kind of subtlety only the ton could master, about her marriage, her husband, the mysterious child.
Victoria did not flinch, did not seem intimidated, yet there was an unmistakable tension in the way she shifted, a slight tightening of her lips and hands.
Jonathan’s voice cut through again, sharper this time, teasing but pointed. “Time to be the knight in shining armor, Hawksford. That duchess does not look entirely comfortable. Surely you see it?”
Richard’s hand itched to reach out, to claim her, to shield her from those curious eyes.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain outwardly composed.
“A necessary nuisance, Cotswell. We encounter these vipers wherever we go.” He cast one final glance at the circle surrounding Victoria, noting each subtle look and question aimed at her.
But restraint would not hold him much longer. He moved, each step deliberate, measured, the echo of his boots across the polished floor a warning to anyone daring to approach her.
The ton could murmur, speculate, or sneer. He did not care. His duchess needed him, even if she would never ask for it.
As he reached her, the murmurs of the crowd seemed to dull, replaced by the quiet hum of his intent.
His hand found the small of her back again, a protective press, and Victoria stiffened slightly under his touch.
He did not pull away. Not now. She was his to protect, and he would not let society’s sharp tongues harm her.
“You’re safe,” he murmured quietly, words meant only for her, just as much a warning as a comfort. “No one will trouble you while I am here.”
Her eyes met his, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, the music, the glittering lights, the whispers of the ton, all of it, faded. There was only her, and him, and the taut thread of desire and protection binding them together.
Richard’s lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned slightly closer, enough that her hair brushed against his cheek. He did not need to speak further; she understood.
And as they began to move through the ballroom together, arm in arm, the unspoken message was clear to all who watched: the Duchess of Hawksford was claimed, and the Duke of Hawksford would brook no interference.
Even Jonathan, standing nearby with a raised brow and suppressed smirk, could not deny the quiet authority radiating from Richard as he escorted his wife.
“You really are insufferable, Hawksford,” Jonathan muttered under his breath.
Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow of a smile twitching at his lips. “I know how to silence a room. No, I know how to silence you.”
Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. “Silence me? I hardly think so.”
Richard let the words fade into the music and chatter, his focus returning fully to Victoria, whose soft laugh and bright eyes were the only music he needed tonight.