Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Concentrate, Rowan.
The ballroom glittered with crystal and candlelight, a thousand reflections scattering across polished floors, but Rowan scarcely noticed any of it.
The night felt different. Almost unfamiliar.
“So, I think I have done it,” Lucy announced, her voice lilting over the music as she appeared beside him, leaning slightly in, as if the bustle of the room existed only around her and not them. “I have spoken with nearly every lady in the room, Your Grace.”
She looked far too enthusiastic to give him away to the first lady who ticked all her boxes. She was moving with such haste that it made Rowan wonder if she dreaded marrying him so much.
“That one, with the sapphire brooch,” she continued, pointing to the far end of the room.
“She is far too reserved. I don’t think she suits you.
Also, the younger Miss Ellsworth, her manners are impeccable, but her eyes wander constantly.
I had to repeat myself multiple times. Definitely not suitable for you, Your Grace. ”
Rowan let the words wash over him, but he wasn’t listening. He could feel her presence; he watched the soft sway of her gown as she moved and the way her hair caught the candlelight and framed her face. Every other voice, every laugh, every tinkling note of music blurred into background noise.
“This one,” Lucy continued, tapping a note in her book with a delicate finger. “She has spirit, certainly, but is far too prone to gossip. No, Your Grace, you will require someone…” She paused, as if weighing her words. “… someone steady, clever, not easily distracted.”
Rowan’s mind wandered backward, replaying the carriage ride from the estate, the moments before the ball.
How they had practiced every single detail.
How he would approach the ladies and talk to them.
Yet here, amidst the glitter and grandeur of the room, he could not, would not, look anywhere but at her.
Her gown, deep emerald, hugged her waist and fell gracefully, the soft shimmer catching the light in the room, and he was aware of the subtle, unintentional curve of her shoulder as she shifted.
He noted the glint of her eyes, alive with curiosity, and he realized he could not recall a single other face in the entire room. Not one.
He had seen hundreds of beautiful women in these rooms before.
Yet, tonight, Lucy had consumed every thought, every glance, every fragment of his attention.
He could not comprehend why. Perhaps, he thought with a twinge of something he would not name aloud, the coaching, the shared lessons, had shifted how he saw her. Made her… different. More magnetic.
Made him more curious about her.
Lucy, entirely unaware of the effect she had, continued, “Now, Your Grace, if we are to make an impression, you must try to talk to some of them.” Her hand brushed his arm lightly as she gestured, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled.
He caught himself staring again and quickly reminded himself that he was supposed to be in the moment.
“There is one person I think you will like,” Lucy said.
“Although there are some things I am skeptical about her. From what I have heard, she can be... superstitious. But other than that, she ticks all of the other boxes. She’s funny, intelligent, she can hold a conversation, and she is very beautiful. ”
Rowan cleared his throat. “Interesting, and who might that be?”
“Lady Judith Brown,” she answered. “I think you will like her, Your Grace. She is refined, reserved, and has experienced sorrow in her life. Widowed only a couple of years into her marriage, which has made her cautious in company, particularly with men who do not already command her trust.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Cautious, you say?”
Lucy gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “She will respond only to genuine conversation, to someone who does not merely flatter her. She is someone you can have a deep conversation with.”
Rowan chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to echo just for her. “Very well, then. Introduce me, Lucy.”
Lucy’s eyes flicked toward Judith across the room. “One moment, Your Grace,” Lucy said, and without waiting for a reply, she stepped lightly across the floor, her skirts swaying just so.
Rowan watched her go, his pulse quickening in a way that had little to do with the prospect of meeting Lady Judith and more to do with the image of Lucy retreating.
Lucy reached Judith and greeted her warmly. Rowan watched them have a short conversation before they both looked up at him. Seconds later, Lucy made her way back to his side with Judith following behind.
“Lady Judith, may I present… the Duke of Langridge, His Grace, Rowan Clawridge.”
As Judith’s eyes met his, Rowan straightened, his attention immediately divided between the lady he had been instructed to get to know and the woman who had commanded every thought since she had appeared in the ballroom.
“Your Grace, may I present Lady Judith Brown?” Lucy introduced herself before taking a step back.
Rowan inclined his head, his eyes catching the gleam of her gown, a rich, deep azure blue. He liked the color, particularly that shade.
“Lady Judith,” he began, “if I may say, that shade suits you exceedingly well.”
Judith glanced down at her dress with a slight smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. Azure has long been a favorite of mine.”
He raised a brow, intrigued. “I confess it is one of my own preferred colors as well though I suspect for different reasons.”
“Oh?” she replied, curious.
He hesitated then, choosing his words carefully. “In its truest form, that hue was once made from lapis lazuli, mined in distant lands and prized above most pigments in Europe. A color of rarity and of patience, much like the sort of conversation I hope to have this evening.”
Judith’s eyes lit with what seemed like genuine interest. “Indeed. I have read that painters once guarded the recipe for ultramarine as though it were a secret. Later, Prussian blue became popular here, more affordable, yet no less admired.” She paused.
“It is a color of both depth and clarity, is it not? Reflective of the sky and the sea but also of constancy.”
Rowan found himself smiling. “Constancy, that is a quality dangerously underrated in these rooms. Yet,” he added with a gentle tilt of his head, “most flattering when applied to you.”
She laughed, a clear, musical sound that seemed to linger in the air. “You flatter, Your Grace, but thank you.”
“Only insofar as fact permits,” he replied, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “Blue has always suggested fidelity and intellect. I think it well suited to a lady that seems to have both.”
Judith’s expression softened, and Rowan felt an ease settle over the exchange. Lucy had thought him well.
After a beat, he ventured forward. “Lady Judith, if you would allow me, may I request this next dance? I would very much like to continue our conversation.”
Her eyes met his. “I should be delighted, Your Grace.”
Rowan offered his arm, and as their hands met, his gaze drifted to Lucy, who stood a small distance away from them, monitoring their conversation.
His eyes lingered longer than propriety allowed on Lucy as he watched her expression, soft yet triumphant, a small smile playing about her lips as though she were silently congratulating him for the successful conversation.
He should have felt a sense of satisfaction, the kind that came from impressing a lady of the ton, but it was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was different, a subtle, unsettling warmth curling in his chest, distracting him in a way he did not expect.
He straightened, turning back toward Judith as the music swelled, and he offered his hand. “Lady Judith,” he murmured, “if I might be so bold, what pastime occupies your quiet hours? I find it often reveals more of a person than any formal introduction.”
Judith’s eyes brightened. “I enjoy embroidery,” she replied as they began to waltz. “Also drawing. I confess I have a fondness for French literature, though I rarely find the time for it nowadays. What about you, Your Grace?”
Rowan answered, though his words felt strange on his tongue.
“I… travel where duty takes me, mostly. I read when the hours allow.” His gaze, despite his best intentions, drifted almost immediately back to Lucy, still standing where he had left her.
She had not moved, merely watching, leaning slightly against the column, and her smile, gentle and amused, gnawed at his concentration.
He forced himself to nod politely at Judith’s observations, to comment in kind on literature and technique, but each word felt secondary, a pretense for his mind which refused to settle.
He noticed her laugh, a soft, cultivated sound, and yet his attention again shifted involuntarily, drawn like a compass needle to Lucy.
She was… there in the periphery, and he could not ignore it, no matter how carefully he tried to focus on Judith.
Rowan realized then, with some irritation at himself, that he was talking to a lady but thinking of another. He glanced at Judith, who was awaiting his response, her brows raised slightly in anticipation, and he forced a polite smile. “Indeed, that is most fascinating,” he said.
Rowan’s words barely left his lips before his attention snapped.
He lifted his eyes again and froze. A gentleman stood beside Lucy, laughing at something she had said, his hand brushing hers ever so lightly as she smiled up at him.
The sight made Rowan’s stomach twist, and for the briefest moment, he missed a step, catching himself against the polished floor just in time.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Judith asked, visibly surprised.
“Yes,” he lied. “My apologies.”
For the briefest instant, the music, the vanished. He couldn’t hear it anymore. There was only Lucy and the man leaning in close enough to make Rowan’s jaw tighten.