28. The Last Waltz #3
His eyes swept over Kate’s figure, lingering on the neckline of her dress, on the red jewels adorning her throat, her sensually crimson lips, her intensely black eyes, her elegantly styled hair embellished with pearls, on all that ostentation of respectability and opulence, with its touch of daring, which he did not overlook at all.
“You look… impossibly beautiful tonight,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
Kate began to walk slowly toward him.
“You look… extremely handsome too,” she replied in a velvety voice. “How is the shoulder?”
“Barely perceptible. I’ve practiced the movements—can raise my arm fully without wincing.” He demonstrated, lifting his right arm in a gesture that would be necessary for dancing. “No one will notice I’m injured.”
“Good.” Kate stopped a few feet away. “Are you ready then?”
Jason’s beautiful smile lit up his face. “Are you?”
Kate took another step, standing directly in front of him.
“I don’t need a ball to show how I feel,” she confessed. “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone…” she shrugged slightly. “I hate the idea of putting on this charade when all I want is to have you close and safe.”
Jason’s eyes darted over hers. He smiled tenderly as he raised his hand to Kate’s face and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb.
“Who says this is a charade?” he asked softly. “This isn’t entirely a performance, Kate. The devotion is real.”
“But the rest of it—”
“The rest is just a suit, a disguise… it’s survival. And we’re very good at surviving.”
With his free hand, he drew her close by the waist and tilted his head slightly to plant a delicate kiss at the corner of her lips.
Kate closed her eyes at his touch.
“Everything will be alright,” Jason whispered then, close to her ear. “We still have so much to do. Don’t let those obstacles stop us.”
“I won’t.”
A clock chimed somewhere in the house. Eight o’clock. Time to leave.
Jason pulled away from Kate, stepping back to offer her his arm in a gesture of courtesy. “Shall we go, Mrs. Moore-Sullivan?”
Kate placed her hand on his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fine fabric.
“Let’s show them how it’s done, Mr. Moore-Sullivan.”
They walked together out of the room and through the corridors of the house.
The carriage was waiting outside. The servants bowed as they passed, admiring them both. The coachman opened the door for them as they approached. Everything was in order for an important merchant and his wife attending the last ball of the season.
* * *
Lady Rutledge’s residence blazed with light, every window glowing golden against the night sky.
Carriages lined the street for half a block in each direction, footmen in livery helping ladies descend while gentlemen offered arms and escorted their companions up the wide stone steps.
Music drifted from the open doors, the orchestra already playing, warming up the crowd for the evening’s dancing.
Jason handed Kate down from their carriage, his movements smooth despite the healing wound in his shoulder.
Kate took his arm as they joined the stream of guests ascending the steps, neither speaking, but both were acutely aware of the attention already turning their way.
Whispers followed them like a wake.
“That’s him—the one who fought Ramsay…”
“Wounded him quite badly, I heard…”
“Over some insult to his wife…”
“She looks radiant tonight, doesn’t she?”
“What a handsome couple…!”
Kate kept her expression serene, pleasant, giving nothing away while Jason maintained perfect posture, his face showing polite interest in their surroundings, no trace of the nervousness Kate knew he must be feeling. He—because in society’s eyes, Gina had to be a He.
Kate had already disciplined herself to see Mr. Moore-Sullivan in public situations like these, to think husband even when her heart and body knew wife .
They reached the top of the steps, passing through the entrance hall where servants took wraps and directed guests toward the ballroom.
The space was magnificent—high ceilings painted with classical scenes, crystal chandeliers over marble floors, flowers arranged in massive urns that perfumed the air with roses and jasmine.
And people. So many people. The cream of London society, all dressed in their finest, all pretending not to stare at the couple who’d been touched by scandal but emerged unscathed.
“Mr. and Mrs. Moore Sullivan!” announced the butler at the threshold upon seeing them both, loud enough to be heard by everyone else already inside.
“Ready?” Jason murmured, low enough that only Kate could hear.
“Ready.”
They entered the ballroom together, and the effect was immediate.
Conversations didn’t stop entirely—that would have been too obvious—but they shifted, lowered, became pointed. Eyes tracked their progress across the floor. Fans rose to conceal moving lips. Men leaned close to whisper to their companions.
Kate felt every gaze like a burn on her skin. Her hand tightened on Jason’s arm, and his free hand came to rest over hers briefly, a gesture of reassurance that could be read as simple husbandly affection.
“Smile,” he said quietly. “Show them how happy you are.”
“I am quite happy.”
Kate forced her lips to curve, forced brightness into her expression. Forced herself to look like a woman who had nothing to fear, nothing to hide, nothing but contentment and love for the man beside her.
They made their way through the crowd, acknowledging greetings, pausing for brief exchanges that followed predictable patterns:
“Mr. Moore-Sullivan, good to see you looking so well…”
“Mrs. Moore-Sullivan, what a stunning gown…”
“Terrible business, that duel, but honor satisfied, what?”
“You both seem in such good spirits…”
Jason handled each interaction smoothly, his responses gracious but not effusive, confident but not arrogant.
Kate followed his lead, adding her own contributions when appropriate. Perhaps she’d learned more from watching Gina’s performances than she’d realized. She was so proud of her. Of them both. Of Gina and of Jason.
They were halfway across the ballroom when the crowd parted slightly, and Lady Rutledge appeared.
She was magnificent as usual—dressed in emerald silk that set off her brown hair, necklace and earrings adorned with diamonds, her bearing that of a woman who knew exactly how much power she wielded in this room. Her sharp eyes swept over the couple intently, missing nothing.
Her face broke into a genuine smile then.
“Katherine!” she crossed to them quickly, taking Kate’s hands in hers and squeezing warmly before pulling her into a brief but fierce embrace.
“Oh, thank God. When I heard about the duel, I nearly had an apoplexy.” She pulled back, her hands still gripping Kate’s arms, her eyes searching her face.
“You’re all right?” She added, swaying her gaze upon Mr. Moore. “Both of you?”
“We’re both fine,” Jason assured her politely. “Thanks for your concern, my lady.”
Lady Rutledge released Kate and turned to him completely, her expression shifting to something more appraising but no less warm.
“Mr. Moore-Sullivan. Still standing, I see. Well done.” She raised her voice just slightly, ensuring those nearby could hear.
“Though I must say, dueling at dawn? How very theatrical . You’ve given the gossips enough material for an entire season. ”
“I live to serve, my lady,” Jason replied with a small bow.
“Oh, what a flatterer!” exclaimed Lady Rutledge, laughing as she leaned a little closer to him, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Between us? I’m delighted you shot that pompous peacock. Someone needed to take Ramsay down a peg or twelve. The man’s been insufferable for years.”
“Lady Rutledge,” Kate said, fighting a smile. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m honest, darling. There’s a difference.
” Lady Rutledge’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced around at the assembled guests, many of whom were watching their interaction with discreet interest. She raised her voice again.
“Of course, I disapprove of such barbaric practices on principle. Violence is never the answer to society’s disputes. ”
“Of course not, my lady,” Jason agreed gravely, though Kate caught the slight curve of his lips.
“But if one must engage in such foolishness,” Lady Rutledge continued, her tone carrying just enough disapproval to satisfy propriety while her eyes gleamed with approval, “one should at least have the decency to win decisively. Which, I’m told, you did. Lord Ramsay is still abed, I understand?”
“So I’ve heard. I wish him a swift recovery.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Lady Rutledge’s laughter echoed throughout the room. “I’m sure he’s terribly grateful for your concern. Along with his wounded pride.”
Kate had to press her lips together to keep from laughing outright.
Lady Rutledge turned back to her. She reached out and touched her cheek briefly. “And you, my darling Katherine. You look particularly radiant this evening. Happy, even.”
“I am happy,” Kate said, and found that it wasn’t entirely a lie. Despite the fear, despite the performance, despite everything—standing here beside Gina, having survived the duel, having a future to plan—she was happy. “Very happy indeed.”
Lady Rutledge’s eyes shone with admiration for the couple.
“Good,” she said softly. “You deserve to be. Both of you deserve every happiness.” She squeezed Kate’s hand once more before stepping away completely.
“Now, I must circulate. Can’t neglect my other guests, even for my favorite couple.
But save me a dance later, Katherine. We have much to discuss. ”
“Of course.”
Lady Rutledge swept away in a rustle of emerald silk, leaving warmth in her wake.
Kate felt something tight in her chest ease slightly. To have even one person in this room who genuinely cared, even if she lacked the truth, it meant more than she could say.
Mr. Moore leaned toward her then, just enough to whisper in her ear.