Chapter 20
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Catherine asked for the hundredth time, twisting her hands in her lap.
Alaric leaned back in his seat in the carriage. He felt a prick on the back of his neck, but he pushed it aside. I have checked everything myself three times. Nothing will happen. He looked at Catherine, and his stomach twisted.
Her midnight blue ballgown draped over her like the night sky. The moonlight reflected on the silver embroidery as the carriage moved, and the gentle sway made the sapphires in her earrings sparkle.
The delicate necklace she wore drew his attention to her pale skin; his eyes traveled to her face, framed by two artfully placed curls.
She looks like a goddess.
“We need to address these rumors, Catherine.” Alaric’s voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “The longer we are out of the public eye, the worse it will be. This ball is the perfect way of re-entering society.”
Catherine tapped her fingers on the carriage seat beside her. “But what about Oliver? And your memories?”
“I will have you to fill in any gaps, and Oliver will be fine. He has Mrs. Langley to look after him, and we will only be away for the evening. The whole point of a governess was to enable you to do more in your life. I thought this was what you wanted.” Alaric gestured to Catherine, taking care to keep his voice neutral.
You want to leave.
His heart twisted at the thought, but he kept it from his face. In front of him, Catherine sighed. “I know, but… I have never been very good at balls.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” Alaric frowned.
“You think too highly of me, Alaric.” Catherine’s fingers twitched, and she looked out of the window.
“In truth, I always felt at sea whenever I was at a ball. I might get asked to dance once or twice, and that was enjoyable, but outside of that… It was all so overwhelming. And it always felt like they were simply waiting for me to make a mistake.”
The image of Catherine dancing with some faceless man popped into his head, and Alaric’s fingers dug into his thighs. He forced himself to relax. “As important as it is for us to make an appearance, we need not stay any longer than needed. If it becomes too much for you, we can leave.”
“Perhaps we should have a code word.” Catherine smiled at him, making his heart throb in his chest.
“How about... pineapple?” Alaric suggested.
“I suspect Lady Haverward will have decorated the refreshment table with them.” Catherine frowned.
“Then it is perfect. No one will suspect what we mean.” Alaric grinned. “If you say pineapple, I will know that you wish to leave, and we can say our goodbyes and return to the castle.”
“And if you say it to me, I will know that you wish to leave.” Her eyes drifted to his forehead, and he knew she was thinking of the headaches that had seemed to plague him recently.
Alaric nodded, took Catherine’s hand in his, and squeezed it gently. “We have a plan.”
The sensation of her skin against his made his heart shudder. Every muscle tightened as a surge of energy flowed through him. He saw the familiar delicate flush spread across her skin and let go of her hand.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the sound of voices and music drifted toward them. The door opened, and Alaric stepped out, offering her his arm. She took it, her head held high as she delicately took her place at his side.
The smell of lavender mingled with the evening air, and together they made their way into the great estate. Alaric could already feel the curious eyes on him. He straightened and smiled.
I can do this.
“Their Graces, Alaric and Catherine Deverell, the Duke and Duchess of Coldmere.” The voice boomed out as Alaric and Catherine entered the ballroom.
Beside him, he noticed Catherine stiffen just slightly as every eye in the room turned to them. Alaric looked down at her, subtly shifting his head behind them.
We do not have to do this if you do not want to.
Catherine met his gaze and shook her head, then stepped with him into the bustling crowd. He could hear the whispers and feel the intensity of the stares as they moved toward Lady Haverward.
The old woman looked down at them, a glass of champagne halfway to her lips. Alaric brightened his smile as he and Catherine approached her, tipping his head.
“Lady Haverward.” His voice carried through the room.
“Duke and Duchess Coldmere.” Lady Haverward dropped into a curtsy, flicking out her fan as she did and fanning herself. “How kind of you to join us. We were not expecting to see you.”
Where have you been? What are you doing here? That was the question Alaric knew she was really asking. “It is a pleasure to be here. We thought your ballroom a most fitting place to re-emerge from our extended honeymoon.”
That was the story he and Catherine had decided to settle on. Convince the ton we are in love, play the part, and then these rumors will be put to bed. Alaric had not anticipated just how close they would have to be to one another to play their parts convincingly.
“Truly, a most magical occasion to return to society,” Catherine added, her smile practiced and polite. “An honor.”
“The honor is all mine, Your Grace.” Lady Haverward’s eyes glittered. “Please, enjoy the festivities.”
“I am sure we will.” Alaric inclined his head once more and led Catherine away from their host.
“She will be crowing about this for months.” Catherine’s lips barely moved.
“Good,” Alaric answered, his own mouth as still as possible. “I think we should get a drink.”
“Duke Coldmere, how excellent to finally see you out and about, ” a pompous man boomed as he pushed through to Alaric.
Panic flared in Alaric as he tried to recall the fellow’s name or at the very least his title. The smell of lavender filled his nostrils and he felt the warmth of Catherine’s touch against his arm.
“Lord Horsfield, so lovely to see you.” Catherine smiled at the man. “How is the Countess?”
Alaric gently rested his hands on Catherines’ squeezing her fingers in thanks.
Over the next hour, Catherine jumped in to save Alaric more than once.
The ton’s initial shock had turned into intense curiosity.
Alaric found himself talking to what seemed like everyone in sight.
His cheeks ached with the effort of smiling, and his head ached from trying to remember everyone’s name and title
“Your Grace, may I just say you are truly breathtaking this evening?” A man’s voice pulled Alaric’s attention away from the conversation he was having.
A handsome man with a cherubic face and curly blond hair was standing beside Catherine. She was smiling at the man, and it stirred something in Alaric. Then he saw the hunger in the stranger’s eyes, and a green monster roared to life inside of him.
Catherine’s voice drifted toward him as he moved to close the distance between her and this stranger. “How kind, Lord Greyson. Thank you.”
“A pleasure, Your Grace.” Lord Greyson was reaching toward Catherine, fingers outstretched. “I do not suppose you would—”
“May I have the honor of this dance, my dear wife?” Alaric took Catherine’s fingers in his own, brushing aside Lord Greyson’s hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man bristle, but he did not care. His heart pounded as he looked at Catherine. Her eyes wavered for a moment, but she recovered quickly.
She smiled at him and nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”
Alaric felt a surge of triumph as he shot a daggered smile at Lord Greyson. “If you will excuse us.”
He pulled Catherine toward the dancefloor, but could sense Lord Greyson’s furious glare as they moved away. As he took his place for the waltz, he felt a moment of panic.
Do I remember how to do this?
Catherine’s expression was unreadable. He tried not to think about the heat of her back against his palm, fighting the urge to pull her closer. Propriety. The music began, and they started to dance.
The relief he felt as the steps fell into place was quickly replaced by the pure jubilation that surged through him. The gazes of the crowd melted away as he and Catherine moved across the floor.
“I did not think you would be quite so light on your feet,” Catherine murmured, her blue eyes meeting his.
“I take it from your tone that we have never shared a dance before.” Alaric spun them across the floor.
What kind of man was I? How could I have never asked her to dance? I had wanted a separate life, to push her away, to push everyone away, and yet I cannot understand why.
Every movement he made, she matched perfectly. She was an extension of his body, and he was an extension of hers. His heartbeat kept time with the music, or perhaps it was hers. He did not know, and he did not care.
“No. In truth, the thought of dancing with you never occurred to me.” Catherine’s smile had an edge that Alaric could not quite place. “Though I enjoy dancing, I did not do much of it before.”
“Why did you tonight?” Alaric asked.
Catherine swallowed, and Alaric followed the movement of her throat with his eyes. “Because you asked.”
His heart skipped a beat, and he nearly missed a step. The burr in the dance faded as he let himself be drawn into Catherine’s eyes. “I am glad you did.”
“You did not wish to dance with Lord Greystable?” he asked.
“Greyson, you mean?” Catherine arched an eyebrow at him. “He did not even get a chance to ask me.”
“Do you wish he had?” Alaric’s heart was in his throat.
Catherine’s blue eyes danced. “No. Though I am curious, do you plan on intercepting every man who tries to dance with me?”
Yes. “That depends.” Alaric tried to sound nonchalant.
“On what?” she asked.
“You.” He shrugged. “I will not force you to do anything you do not want.”
Even if I want to rip the legs off any man who so much as thinks of dancing with you.
“And if I said I wanted to stop dancing?” Her eyes flashed.
“Do you?” He spun them round, pulling her into him as they turned a corner.
“No.”
“Neither do I.”