Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Frederick endured several days of poor meals at his new wife’s discretion.
The physician came around almost every day to massage Alice’s leg, being the only one who felt as though he could do it well enough, and although it felt as though there was a fist around his chest, he had no choice but to allow it.
All the while, preparations for the ball went ahead around them, and on the day of the ball, he was pleased to find Alice standing in the middle of the ballroom, giving directions about where the servants should place the hothouse flowers.
He had not originally thought she would take all that much of an interest.
And later, when he descended to find her standing in the hall, waiting for him, he was pleasantly surprised to find her in a pale pink chiffon ballgown, gloves up to her elbows and her chestnut curls soft by her heart-shaped face.
Although she still had that stick under her arm, she looked stunning.
Beautiful in a way that had his breath catching, and he took a second to regain his composure as he came to stand by her side.
“Why don’t you lean on me?” he asked, extending his arm and nodding to her stick. “I’ll support you.”
Her brows rose. “Do I not look well?”
“I suspect you know precisely how well you look,” he said dryly. He had already kissed her—she knew beyond all doubt that he found her attractive. “Are you ready for tonight?”
The combative light he’d expected from her didn’t spark in her eyes.
He’d spoken to the servants, and it didn’t sound as though she had anything large or drastic planned.
And she looked the part; in fact, it appeared as though she had gone out of her way to look her best, wearing a silken gown that hugged her figure.
Not the actions of a woman determined to destroy them both, he would have thought.
Her fingers tightened around her stick. “I am ready.”
He looked her over once more, before accepting she would not rely on him alone.
Conceding defeat, he approached her other side and took her hand.
She wrapped it around his upper arm, squeezing her bicep as though she had not expected to find the ball of muscle there.
After a second, she let it lay limply and properly on his forearm. But he could not forget the squeeze.
Together, united for perhaps the first time in their marriage, they walked from the hallway through to the ballroom, which was decked out in flowers and beautiful chalk patterns on the floor. She certainly had gone out of her way to make it beautiful.
“Lovely,” he murmured.
She looked around as though seeing it for the first time. “Yes.” Her voice sounded strange, slightly strangled. “It is.”
The first guests began to arrive, mostly lords and ladies curious about the marriage and the new Duchess, and the pair greeted them together.
Frederick hid his irritation—all these people who had been gossiping about him behind his back—behind smiles and words of welcome.
Alice, too, was everything that was gracious, as though she was oblivious to also being a notorious figure within Society.
Still, as he stood and watched the full ballroom, some of the tension left his shoulders. They had overcome the first hurdle; they had hosted a ball and guests had attended. Whatever the reason, they were here, and he had not lost his position as one of the ton’s most prominent leaders.
Alice looked up, her smile dropping as she faced him.
He could hardly begrudge her for that, especially when she had been so welcoming to all their guests.
“I think we have done enough,” she whispered.
“Do as you would and have fun. Do not feel you cannot dance on my account.” She gestured at her skirts. “You know I cannot.”
“Not yet, at least.” He smiled at the conflicted expression that crossed her face.
She wanted to hate him, and perhaps she did, but she also wanted to walk again.
That desire was written across her face also.
And if he could find a way of making it happen, perhaps that could go a way toward undoing the sins of his past, too.
They would both be free of something of his own making.
Denshire caught his gaze and as though Alice had noticed, she dropped her hand from his arm.
“Go,” she said. “I will introduce myself to all these people.” There was another flash of challenge in her eyes, and he wondered briefly what ‘introduce herself’ could mean, but quickly dismissed his concerns.
If she still wished to ruin him—and he expected she did—then he didn’t think she would choose such a public event to do so.
He crossed the room to his old friend instead. The first dance was announced, but of course, Alice was not dancing, and so he would not, either. He had never been particularly fond of dancing anyway.
“Well?” Denshire asked. “She seems to be enjoying herself so far.”
Frederick turned to see Alice accepting a glass of wine from a footman and offering a dazzling smile as she introduced herself to the Countess of Lancashire, one of the most notable gossips in the room.
Naturally—he didn’t know how she had sussed out the woman so quickly, considering she had not been part of society in such a long time.
“I think she is enjoying being mistress of the house,” Frederick nodded absently.
“You mean you are seeing her now?” Denshire raised his brows. “And… is that a pleasant experience for all involved?”
“It is an experience,” Frederick shrugged.
Denshire snorted. “Are you going to keep pretending to all and sundry that yours was a love match?”
“I hardly think anyone will believe that, but she stood on my arm and greeted guests with me; I doubt anyone will claim that I forced her into anything. And once they understand that she is not a nobody I married out of shame, the rumor mill should stop churning.” A little more of the weight left Frederick’s shoulders.
“Then we can live our lives in peace. Maybe she’ll even come to tolerate me. ”
“A man has never wished for so much from a marriage before,” Denshire said dryly.
“Considering the lady I married, I think it an entirely realistic goal.”
Denshire shook his head as he sipped at his wine, but he didn’t mention the accident or anything pertaining to it.
Frederick was glad. This was his bed, and now he must lie in it.
A man was nothing more than the choices he made, and he was determined that the choices he made when he was a young man would not rule him for the remainder of his days.
He made his way around the room, stopping and speaking with people as he went. At all times, he found himself aware of where Alice was and who she spoke to. With a burst of disquiet, he noticed her speaking consistently to the ton’s greatest gossips.
Not ideal.
“Tell me more about your marriage,” Lord Renshaw said jovially, the claret in his glass almost sloshing from its rims. Frederick looked at it with distaste.
“What of it?”
“Well, it was going around that you were to marry Lady Penelope. Now that would’ve been a good catch.
” He paused, scanning the room, but of course, Lady Penelope and her family were not in attendance.
Frederick wasn’t even rightly sure if they had been invited.
After Alice had shown interest in being involved, he had only ensured that she had not made any large faux pas.
Perhaps he should have checked these things.
Lord Renshaw leaned in conspiratorially. “Though, on that topic, I also heard Lady Penelope has already had another offer of marriage.”
Frederick found his gaze returning to Alice, where her laughter gurgled like a spring. “No doubt she has. She is a wonderful lady, and I understand her reasons for not wanting to join herself with me.”
“Because of your current wife, no?” Renshaw perched even closer, his breath heavy with the stench of champagne. “Did you have her as a mistress?”
“Of course not,” Frederick huffed. “I am not in the habit of ruining respectable young ladies.”
“Mm.” Renshaw looked back up at him, brows lowered. “That’s not what I heard.”
“And what, precisely, did you hear?”
“Oh—just a load of nonsense, I’m sure,” he said, regaining himself. “I mean, just that everyone knows she came to the church where you were to marry Lady Penelope, and now she’s being courted by other gentlemen while you are here with your new wife—that very same lady. Makes one think.”
Frederick raised his empty glass to his lips before remembering he had already drunk from it. Still, better he kept his wits about him for conversations like these.
“I had the honor of making the former Miss Ravenshire’s acquaintance that day,” he said. “It seems she mistook me for another gentleman. But after speaking with her, it was my honor to ask her to marry me, and I am delighted to say she consented to being my wife.”
Renshaw squinted at him. “So there isn’t a child hidden away somewhere?” he stated outright bluntly. “No one would think too much of it after a while, you know. These things happen, Langley.”
“There is most certainly not a child,” Frederick muttered, his voice growing cold. “And I would thank you to not level such accusations at my wife.”
“Oh.” Renshaw picked up his jaw from where it had been, metaphorically speaking, on the floor.
“Of course. Yes. Well. I’m sorry for causing offense, old boy.
Never meant anything by it. Happens to us all.
Misunderstanding.” He waved a hand and stumbled away.
At these events, there was always someone who took the opportunity to make a mess.
Frederick finished making his way through the room, correcting those who assumed he and Alice had a past together—or at least, a past in a strictly sexual manner.
Their past was not about him having given her an illegitimate child to cope with.
There would be no more surprises coming out from the woodwork.
And at every juncture, he did his best to assert that the marriage was made on the grounds of mutual respect.
Regardless of what went on behind locked doors, he would not allow their marriage to be tainted by people’s assumptions they were unhappy together.
He reached Alice’s side just as the clock struck one. She glanced up as though surprised to find him there. “My dear,” he chimed, taking her arm as though he had planned this all along. “Allow me to escort you to dinner.”
The gentlemen she had been conversing with glanced at him with curious expressions and side eyes, but they said nothing as she left with him. Not that she had much of a choice without making a scene. But it was important to him that they were seen together.
She wrinkled her nose as they led the way to the dining room. “I suppose I ought to thank you.”
“It would be polite, yes.”
“And yet it would be a lie.” Her words slurred, and he caught sight of the wine glass in her other hand. Now he was paying attention, he noticed her cheeks were somewhat flushed, and she did not move with her usual momentum.
“I think that is enough for one evening,” he said smoothly, plucking her glass from her other hand.
“I was enjoying that!”
“You wouldn’t enjoy it tomorrow,” he replied, taking her stick and handing it to her instead.
Once she had it in hand, he led her to the head of the table, where he placed her at his side.
Married couples did not usually sit together, but he wanted the display of unity.
That was what this evening was all about.
She turned her gaze to him. “I cannot dance. These people look at me with disdain, no matter how I present myself to them, and I have no love for my husband. What else is there for me to do?”
“I have seen you speaking to plenty of people.” More than I would like.
“Everyone is eager to make the acquaintance of the new Duchess to see how she holds up.” She gave a secretive little smile. “I suspect they are not pleased by what they see.”
“Not if you keep drinking like that.”
She pouted. “Would you truly stop me having fun?”
“That’s not what this is about and you know it.” As he handed her down into her chair, she hummed and leaned against him, her head lolling. Her eyes were green in this light, a spark in them that reminded him of how it had felt to kiss her.
“Do you wish I was Lady Penelope now?” she asked slyly, hiccupping as she reached for more wine, which he smoothly maneuvered away from her reach. He motioned for a footman to bring them some water instead.
“Is that what you’re hoping?” he asked under his breath, irritation thrumming through his veins. “That if you behave badly enough, I will wish you were Lady Penelope?”
“From our guests, I have heard she is perfection in a lady.”
Frederick almost smiled. “Jealous?”
She snorted. “Not jealous.”
His grip on her arm tightened. “I should take you to bed. You should lie down.”
“Do so at your own risk, husband dear.” She blinked, eyes clearing for a moment as she looked at him. “Then they truly would think you a tyrant.”
“And you a drunkard.”
“Happy families.” The grin that came to her mouth was fleeting, and although irritation eclipsed almost every other emotion, he felt a brief surge of desire. Not just for her sweet lips, but to see that smile cross them again.
His guilt must have gone deeper than he knew.
“Tell me, Alice,” he murmured, leaning in, though he knew he shouldn’t. “What will convince you that I have paid my debts to you?”
She blinked, looking almost surprised at his question. “Why, when you are fully miserable, of course.”
Of course. As though it should have been obvious.
Though perhaps it should have been. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he had been miserable since the day of the accident, that he had been in a state of rare agony every time he thought of it, and having her here—proof of what he had done—was a torment.
She offered him redemption, but she was also a reminder of his suffering.
“We will continue this conversation later,” he said instead, sitting back up and handing her some water as the guests began to pour in.