Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Ithought you’d be happier to see me.”
Rachel stood beside Marina, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. She had finally arrived at the ball. Yet, it wasn’t exactly as exciting as she had hoped.
“I am happy to see you,” Rachel said to her sister, though her gaze still drifted off into the distance.
Where was he?
They had arrived together, of course, but he had left her the moment they stepped into the ballroom, disappearing into the crowd with no further explanation.
Typical of him. She ought to be used to it by now. For her own sanity, if nothing else.
“You’re looking for him.”
Rachel blinked, then shook her head. “I am merely surveying the room.”
“It’s rather fine if you are,” Marina continued. “He is your husband. It’s not a crime.”
“It feels like one,” Rachel muttered under her breath.
“What was that, now?”
“Nothing.” Rachel pushed it away, not wanting her sister to worry. “Besides, I would much rather discuss anything else. Tell me, has Letitia been giving you any trouble?”
“Oh, she was not too happy about being reprimanded by the duke,” Marina noted with some delight, “but she’s been behaving herself since. I suppose he was quite effective in getting his message across.”
“Good,” Rachel nodded. “She ought to watch her step. If she does anything to bother you, you must write to me immediately.”
“Already behaving as a duchess should.” Marina smiled, pleased. “The position suits you.”
“Does it really?”
“Yes,” Marina laughed. “No need to sound so unsure about it. You fit the part splendidly, and I am sure that Simon must have taken note of it as well.”
Rachel stilled at that. She was not sure what Simon had taken note of, if anything. He confused her.
“How is your marriage going?” Marina continued. “I am sure that the two of you must have grown quite close now.”
“It’s…” Rachel considered her words carefully, and then a blush formed on her cheeks. “He’s seen a lot more of the world than I have. He teaches me sometimes.”
Well, it was only the one time, but it had been seared into her memory.
“How endearing. You’re blushing just speaking about it,” Marina gushed, unbeknownst to the real reasoning.
”Yes, well,” Rachel cleared her throat, looking for any distraction. “Who is that?”
“Who?”
She pointed in front of her where Christopher stood, but it was not her father who held Rachel’s attention.
It was the woman standing with him.
She was an older woman, but there was something graceful about her. Her father looked very engaged in the conversation, as though he was hanging onto every word of it.
Rachel had never seen her before.
Marina looked equally confused. “I do not know. Perhaps Father has plans for marriage of his own,” she joked.
“God forbid.”
As if sensing their gaze, the woman turned.
“Oh, no,” Rachel averted her gaze immediately. “She’s caught us staring.”
“And worse, she’s making her way over here!” Marina announced. The two sisters quickly busied themselves in pretend conversation, as though they had not been observing her just moments ago.
“Good evening,” the woman said smoothly, dipping into a small curtsy. “Christopher, you did not introduce me to your daughters before. Such a shame. But finally, I’m getting a chance to meet them.”
“Yes, well,” Christopher grumbled under his breath. When in public, he liked to keep this distance from his ‘daughters’. Letitia was the only one whom he had any interest in introducing to anyone.
“You must be the Duchess of Everly,” the woman turned to Rachel, surprising her.
Rachel had spent most of her life being comfortably in the background. Getting approached like this was something she was not quite used to, but perhaps it was the new normal. She was a duchess now, after all, and that was not a small title.
“I am.”
The woman’s gaze swept over her with mild interest before she smiled again. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace. I am Lady Langston.”
“I don’t think I have heard anything about you,” Rachel replied, though she noticed Christopher rolling his eyes—as if he was irritated by the fact that Rachel was even speaking to her. He no longer had any power, of course.
“Oh, consider me a friend of your father,” the woman supplied, glancing toward Christopher briefly before returning her gaze to Rachel.
A friend of my father. Strange, Rachel thought. She must either be influential or very rich. Christopher did not make friends for any other reason.
Lady Langston’s smile remained intact. “And this must be your sister?”
“Marina Montrose,” Marina answered, curtsying.
Lady Langston regarded her for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “You both are even lovelier than I had imagined. Very nice daughters you have raised, Lord Montrose.”
“I, well…” Christopher said awkwardly.
“Do you reside in London?” Rachel asked, keeping her tone even though the woman had piqued her curiosity.
“I travel often,” she replied vaguely. “But I do enjoy the ton when it suits me.”
“So, are you travelling now?” Rachel couldn’t help but ask, for the answer had been evasive. It almost reminded her of Simon.
Before Rachel could probe further, her gaze flickered past the lady toward the other end of the ballroom.
Rachel turned just in time to see Simon emerging from the crowd.
His dark gaze scanned the room, sharp and assessing, before landing directly on them.
And then, on the woman.
The lady curtsied once more, suddenly in a hurry. “It was a pleasure, Your Grace. I do hope we meet again.”
“Ah, there is your lovely wife,” Rowan murmured to Simon, who had not left his side ever since he had gotten to the venue.
Simon didn’t have to follow his gaze to know where she stood. He had kept an eye on her, despite the distance.
“Suppose I should go to her now,” he muttered under his breath. In the entire carriage ride there, he had managed to avoid conversation.
And that was what he had planned to do for the remainder of the night as well.
“Shall I make myself scarce? Or will you allow me to meet her?” Rowan asked.
Simon exhaled, unimpressed. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you are capable of behaving yourself.” Simon shook his head. While he did not exactly enjoy the idea of Rowan speaking to his wife, the thought of meeting her alone seemed even more daunting.
If anything, Rowan could provide him with a distraction.
Rowan clutched his chest in mock offense. “Capable? Of course, I am capable. The real question is whether I intend to behave.”
“That you will, or else, you know the consequences,” Simon warned.
Rowan chuckled, then his gaze shifted across the ballroom, something catching his interest. “Who is that speaking to Montrose?”
Simon followed his line of sight.
Christopher stood near the staircase, engaged in conversation with a woman Simon did not recognize. Dark-haired, poised, her expression perfectly composed as she listened to whatever Christopher was saying.
“I do not know her,” Simon murmured.
Rowan arched a brow. “She must be new around here.”
Simon said nothing, his focus narrowing. He had spent his life reading people, learning the nuances of their movements, the small gestures that revealed more than words ever could.
And something about this woman felt wrong.
“Shall we make introductions?”
Before Simon could answer, the woman turned her head slightly, as if she had sensed them watching.
Their eyes met across the room.
Then, before he could move, she excused herself and disappeared back into the crowd.
“Well,” Rowan murmured, intrigued, “never mind that, then.”
“Come,” Simon said to Rowan as the two made their way over to the duchess.
“Say,” Rowan said as they approached closer. “I understand that the duchess is well off limits, as she should be, but what of the woman who is by her side?”
“Behave,” Simon warned for a final time.
When they reached Rachel and Marina, Rowan barely hesitated before speaking.
“Finally! What a great pleasure to meet you, Duchess,” Rowan grinned. “I have to say that I was quite keen on meeting you.”
Rachel looked at Simon, confused.
“Rachel, this is Lord Rowan Hunt,” he said, already regretting the whole thing. Rowan was too unpredictable—he never knew what would end up coming out of his mouth.
“At your service, Your Grace.”
Rachel arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. “Lord Hunt.”
“You say my name so hesitantly,” Rowan chuckled. “Has my reputation already preceded me?”
Rachel smiled lightly. “It has not.”
“Linwood, you wound me. You have spoken nothing of me?” He turned to Rachel dramatically. “I have been his dearest friend for years, and yet, here I am—forgotten.”
“I suppose I should question my husband’s judgment then,” Rachel answered with ease.
Rowan let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, I like you.”
Simon exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could simply say hello, Rowan.”
“Yes, but where is the fun in that?” Rowan smirked, then his gaze shifted to Marina. “And who is this?”
Marina shuffled, smiling now. “Miss Marina Montrose.”
Rowan took her hand before she could react, bowing over it. “Miss Marina,” he murmured, his tone smoother than before. “A pleasure.”
“Lord Hunt.”
Rowan studied her for a moment. “Montrose… yes, I recall the name. I believe I may have seen you at a few gatherings in London?”
“Perhaps,” Marina said evenly. “I do enjoy them, unlike my sister.”
Rachel and Simon exchanged looks—suddenly feeling as though they were interrupting something. Typical of Rowan, of course.
“I would have remembered if I had the pleasure of an introduction,” Rowan continued, his smirk returning.
Marina lifted her chin slightly. “Are you always this charming, my lord?”
Rowan’s grin widened. “I do try my best.”
“Rowan,” Simon uttered a warning under his breath to his friend, who looked annoyed at the interruption.
“Yes, yes. I promised to behave,” he turned to Rachel. “He runs quite a tight ship, does he not? Very particular about everything. I hope that you have found married life to your liking.”
Rachel looked at Simon, and then a faint blush covered her cheeks. “It is still quite new for both of us.”
Rowan chuckled. “Ah. A diplomatic response.”
“I have learned to be diplomatic,” Rachel replied smoothly. “It is expected of a duchess, is it not?”
“Ah, she is smart,” Rowan said to Simon, amused. “Well, you’re quite correct. Diplomacy can get you quite far.”
Simon stepped in before Rowan could tease her further. “And I do not intend to let you interrogate my wife all evening.”
“The duchess and I were merely having a conversation,” Rowan defended himself.
The musicians began to prepare their next song, and the couples started to arrange themselves on the dance floor. Simon noticed Rachel looking in his direction with some curiosity.
“Is something wrong?” Simon asked her finally, startling her.
“N-no, I was just…” she hesitated, as though caught doing something she was not supposed to. “The dance is about to start.”
“Yes, it is,” Simon replied, keeping his expression nonchalant.
“And so, well…” Rachel bit down on her lip. “Do you think…”
Simon did not let her finish the sentence, knowing very well where it was going.
“Actually, I believe it is time for me and Lord Hunt to step away,” he announced abruptly, leaving both Rowan and Rachel confused. “We have some business to discuss.”
“Business,” Rowan repeated, chuckling to himself. “Yes, business while the couples dance around us. Very apt.”
Simon ignored him. “If you could excuse us, please.”
And then he walked away with Rowan, quickly following suit.