Chapter 14 #2
Despite containing a large number of people, ballroom of the Ravencroft estate made Phoebe felt like a little fish swimming alone in a large pond the moment she walked in.
Phoebe had known this was going to be the case. She had prepared herself for it. She had stood before the mirror in her dressing room for a full twenty minutes while her lady’s maid dressed her hair, and she had told herself, that this circumstance would not be what would break her.
She had survived the fire. She has survived the loss of her parents. She had survived her first season. She had sat across a drawing room from Barbara Vale and not faltered.
She could manage a ball.
Still… it was usually easier to claim those things than it was to do it.
When the carriage drew up to the Ravencroft house, and she looked out at the lit windows and the line of carriages ahead, letting her gaze wander with the stream of people moving up the steps in their silks and jewels, she felt the composure she had constructed very carefully over the last few days crumble slightly.
Then their carriage door opened, Edward stepped down and then turned to offer his hand, looking every bit a distinguished gentleman. With a deep inhale, she took it and stepped out into the cool evening air.
His gaze moved over her slowly, taking in the deep green silk dress, the way its sleeves hung delicately to the curve of her shoulders, how the bodice teased her ample bosom and delicate swell of her hips and then came back to her face, likely noticing how red her cheeks had gotten under his scrutiny.
And simply, quietly, he told her, “You look beautiful.”
Phoebe was not, generally, a person who was made uncertain by compliments.
She had learned long ago that compliments were sometimes currency and sometimes misdirection and only occasionally simply what they appeared to be.
But something about the way he said it — direct and simple, without any fuss — moved through her defences quite cleanly.
“Thank you,” she replied, ignoring the flush of delight that ran through her and took his arm.
The entrance hall of the Ravencroft house was full of light, warmth and chatter.
Phoebe was practically pressed to her husband’s side after he had handed off his coat and cloak and led them to the ballroom.
She was already keenly aware of the eyes following their every step.
She had been prepared for it, but still, reality was much more daunting than her imagination.
And then they reached the top of the stairs, and the master of ceremonies nodded as the steward informed him of their names, and moments later his voice carried out over the assembled room.
“The Duke and Duchess of Montford.”
Practically every head in the room turned in their direction.
It was likely only for a few seconds. The natural rhythm of the evening recovered itself almost immediately — conversations resumed, people looked away, the room went back to being a gathering of people who were simply pleased to be attending such a nice event.
But in those few seconds, Phoebe felt the full weight of what she had become and what it meant and how entirely, absolutely unprepared she had been for all of it, right up until this precise second.
She felt Edward’s arm, steady beneath her hand and forced herself to take a deep breath. He stepped forward, further into the ballroom with the same unhurried ease he displayed at home and because his arm was beneath her hand and they were moving together, she moved along with him.
It felt as though she was feeding off his confidence and nonchalance and it made her feel good, to be the one he was holding and leading. So, Phoebe lifted her chin and trailer behind her husband
“Phoebe.”
She heard her name being called and turned to find her brother and sister approaching them. Edward faced them with her before he let her hand drop and she took a single step forward, not wanting to be too far from Edward as her siblings came to a stop before them.
They were both dressed for the evening, blending elegantly with the rest of the crowd and Phoebe’s heart soared at the sight of them, smiling as Rowland took her hands in his.
“You look well,” he exclaimed, his words heavy with emotion.
“So do you.” She faced Anna, who was already reaching for the joined hands of her siblings with a bright smile. “Both of you.”
She felt Edward come to stand beside her and turned to find him looking at Rowland with the contained, assessing expression before he nodded in acknowledgement.
“Thank you for honouring the invitation.” Edward stated calmly.
He had told her in the carriage that her brother and sister would also be in attendance, mentioning that the ball would be a good place for Anna to cross paths with more reputable gentlemen, and Rowland could make more beneficial business connections.
It had been quite thought of him to extend them an invitation and Phoebe wondered if what she owed Edward could be quantified into words or wealth.
There was a brief, weighted pause after the duke had spoken, then Rowland cleared his throat.
“It is I who should express gratitude. For all you have done for my family’s sake. For Phoebe…I am grateful.”
Edward stated at him silently for a bit, then the corner of his mouth quirked upward slightly.
“Your sister,” Edward began, “Told me once that you climbed a very large tree despite being told not to. Repeatedly.”
Rowland blinked. “I — yes. That is true. What does that —”
“It explains a great deal about how you approach most situations.” He glanced at Phoebe. “The resemblance is remarkable, actually. Both of you go directly at a thing and look faintly surprised when it pushes back.”
Phoebe opened her mouth to contest, surprised when Anna interjected cheerfully.
“He is not wrong. Thank you for supporting my understanding of these two, Your Grace.”
“I did not ask for your opinion,” Phoebe told her, blushing deeply
Rowland loomed just as frazzled and Edward chuckled slightly, the sound a pleasant surprise to Phoebe as he held his hand out to Rowland. When her brother accepted the handshake, the duke told him.
“You are quite welcome. It was my pleasure. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
As Phoebe watched her siblings wander off — with Anna leading Rowland away with claims that she was feeling parched and as her chaperone, he should be doing more to ensure she is well — Edward huffed under his breath.
“I wondered how long it would take them to find me.”
She glanced up at him and followed his gaze in time to see a man and a woman approached them, surmising from the way guests turned to greet them that they were the host of the ball.
“You did not think you could avoid us all evening, did you? Your entrance was announced, Edward.” The woman glared at him playfully.
“Perhaps I was simply trying to keep my wife to myself for as long as I could,” Edward sighed, settling a hand on Phoebe’s hip and drawing her closer to his side, the action startling her slightly.
The woman huffed and smiled at Phoebe kindly,
“I hope he is not bothering you too much, dear. I know that he can be quite mischievous.”
“Those claims are slander, Jane,” he frowned as he addressed Phoebe. “Pay her no heed. She has been misled by her husband who wishes to soil my reputation.”
“There is no need for me to do so, as you are doing a fine job of it already.” The man behind the woman stated with a mild look of irritation.
“Before I address that foul statement, dearest wife, I would like to introduce you to our hosts, Jane and Thomas Wetherby, the Duke and duchess of Ravencroft,” to Phoebe, he gestured with a nod in her direction, his hand still on her waist. “This is my wife, Phoebe Barton, duchess of Montford.”
Jane beamed excitedly and took Phoebe’s hands in hers.
“I am so glad to finally meet you!” she said, and Phoebe could tell at once that she meant it. “I have heard almost nothing about you, because Edward had been rather protective of you, which means you must be very important to him.”
“Jane,” Thomas sighed mildly.
“I am simply being honest. It is a virtue.” His wife pouted.
“It is frequently a virtue,” Thomas agreed. “It is occasionally just candour.”
Phoebe found herself laughing, which she had not expected, and Jane squeezed her hands once before letting go.
“We must talk properly at some point. Not tonight, unfortunately, as there is far too much happening right now, but soon.” Her dark eyes were bright and direct. “It was lovely to meet you. I think we shall be good friends.”