Chapter 19 #2
Frederic frowned. Felicity conveniently hadn’t addressed Caroline by her title.
The daughter of a marquess should know better.
Caroline smiled artlessly. Her lack of guile was admirable, especially considering—but it didn’t due to think ill of anyone, however much he suspected Felicity might have deserved it.
“How fortunate to see you out in public, Your Grace,” Felicity gushed as she fanned herself. “We had quite begun to wonder if Frederic had really married at all, but here you are at last!”
Her smile made Frederic feel as if he had eaten spoiled fruit.
“I am much more comfortable at home,” Caroline said, a little discomfited, “but tonight I accompany my husband which brings no end of comfort, and so I am at peace.”
What a gracious reply. Felicity, however, either blind or insensible, didn’t seem to hear it.
“Some people said—but of course, I shouldn’t repeat what you no doubt already know.”
Felicity coughed behind her hand. Caroline blushed. Frederic moved to intercede, but just then the server appeared, decanter in hand. Felicity took advantage of the pause like an urchin after a coin.
“Some people still talk about the old scandal, you know—the one the wedding covered. I wouldn’t be one to repeat it, but they say the whole thing came about because of the curse.”
Frederic slammed his drink down on a side table.
The nerve! Caroline and Felicity both jumped.
He had thought—well, he had thought incorrectly, it seemed, as he had judged Felicity’s character to be far more superficial than vicious.
He offered his hand to Caroline, addressing Felicity with as little derision as he could muster.
“Only children believe in superstitions. Perhaps those who perpetuate such things should stay at home with their nursemaids and stories. I am surprised at you, my lady, for repeating such falsehoods—and to my wife of all people.”
Felicity’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Good. Let someone else share their thoughts for a change.
He turned to Caroline. “Would you honor me, madam? I’m much inclined to dance.”
Caroline blushed with pleasure and stood immediately, curtseying a farewell to Felicity as she took his hand. He had seen the look on Felicity’s face before—once, when Philip had snatched a bone from one of the hounds and the creature had bared its teeth, snarling.
She could bare whatever teeth she liked. He feared no bite from her. He nodded curtly and led Caroline to the dance floor, leaving Felicity red-faced, eyes flashing, and alone.
This evening had not gone at all the way he had expected. He hadn’t, it was to be admitted, expected much, but he had at least hoped to enjoy a small portion of the ball without being harried by—
His eyes found Caroline’s. Their warmth spread over him like a winter fire on the hearth. She was so beautiful. It burbled up inside her and leaked out in light like an aurora borealis. And so calm! So poised! How could she maintain her composure under such trying circumstances?
The dance started. He stepped forward and took her hand. She pressed it with a smile. A flush tickled the edge of his chin. She looked at him quizzically.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m glad. I was worried—” she stopped. Curiosity piqued him.
“What is it?”
“I was worried that I might be—” Her eyes fell to the floor. “You are my first dance partner. I wanted—I hoped—I would be a sufficient partner.”
“I am honored.” They settled back into their places in the dance. “The gentleman of the ton must surely be lacking in basic intelligence if they wasted such an opportunity.”
She stepped forward and twisted past him, staring gratefully for a moment into his eyes.
He could press his lips to hers, pull her close to him, like he had that day in the library. But a moment, but a space between them, and then—
She moved past him, settling into her spot in the set. Frederic blinked.
“Surely this isn’t your first dance, Your Grace?” she asked, playfulness dancing in her voice.
Frederic chuckled.
“No, certainly not. I’ve been attending balls in earnest since my father—” he paused. She glanced at him but said nothing. He blessed her for her tact but continued. “My father and I—we didn’t have a rapport.”
The dance carried them forward. Her eyes softened and spread their softness to his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That must have been so—lonely.”
“I didn’t want an heir in case—” The words he had spoken so infrequently choked him. He swallowed them and tried again. “More than anything, I didn’t want to become like him.”
There. He had said it. Relief flooded him and—on its tails—an odd anxiety. Caroline’s hand took his as they came to rest at the bottom of the set.
“You truly are the best man I’ve ever met.”
She meant it. He felt it in his chest that she did. His heart swelled like a ship’s sails in a morning vesper, expanding until it pounded on the door of his denial.
He did have feelings for her—feelings that were more than just amiable, more than just civil. The rich, passionate seeds of lifelong regard had bloomed, against his inclination and even against his best efforts.
The dance started again, moving them further down the room.
Frederic noticed no other couple. He traced Caroline’s profile—content, her hand reaching out for his.
What did the whispers and rumors matter?
What did the comments and gossip matter?
So long as she was with him—so long as she stood by his side—the ghost of his father would haunt him no longer.
He need not fear following in those steps.
For the first time in many years, Frederic smiled with his entire soul. Perhaps—perhaps soon, in the future sometime—he could have a child. Would it have Caroline’s hair? Or her beautiful, expressive eyes?
If they did have a child together—perhaps, just perhaps—it might not be so bad a thing as he had previously thought.