Chapter Seventeen
“All who joy would win must share it -- Happiness was born a twin.” – Don Juan, George Gordon Byron
Three Days Later
“I am quite apprehensive,” Ursula confessed.
Graham gave her a reassuring smile. “It is quite natural to feel uneasy. This is our first ball as husband and wife, after all.”
“If only that was all,” she sighed, shifting her position. “Our marital union was quite overshadowed by scandal. What if we are not accepted after all? This is Mama and Papa’s ball, so we are guaranteed an invitation. I am afraid that I will be shunned entirely.”
It was dark outside, the gloomy landscape flashing by as the carriage trundled into the night. Graham watched his wife in the few moonbeams that came through the window, and felt his heart constrict.
“Please allow me to have your indulgence for a moment,” he said, leaning forward to take her hand.
“Even if nobody speaks to you all night, not a soul, you will at least have me to talk to. I am not a great conversationalist, but you need not fear as your conversational choices will surely not be limited to me. There are your dear parents, your friend Miss Winter, and of course your cousin, Miss Worth. There are a number of people with whom you can speak to. Oh, and of course Jonathan will be there. He is particularly fond of you; I must impart to you.”
She gave him a vague, fond smile. “Thank you, Graham. That means so very much to me.”
He released her hand and sat back, watching moonlight flash across Ursula’s face.
***
She looked like a genuine vision. Her gown, of ice-blue silk, was adorned with an abundance of ruffles and ruches, cascading in a graceful torrent from her slender hips.
The bodice, cut with delicate precision, was embellished with a delicate scattering of pearls and sequins.
It suited her colouring splendidly. To his mind, she resembled an ice queen who was cool, exquisitely beautiful, and truly breath-taking.
It was strange to think that three full days had passed by since their kiss in the library.
Graham had gone to her bedroom door once or twice since then, hand raised ready to knock.
The first time, the light had gone out from under the door just as he was summoning his courage, and he had chosen to retreat.
The second time his nerve had simply broken.
No, he would wait for the right time. His mother’s presence at the house did not help. She was present at every meal and sat in the drawing with them until one of them went to bed. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Margaret was trying to push a wedge between them.
That, of course, could not be possible. His mother was a little sharp, to be sure, but she would never interfere between a wedded couple in such a way, he was convinced of it.
It was just bad luck that was all. However, he was glad that a sudden cold had sent Margaret to her bed and kept her from attending the party tonight.
She would certainly have sat in between them and kept them apart all night.
Of course, there was no information on when the repairs on her house would be completed. Graham was almost ready to give up asking.
I’m lucky, he thought, eyeing Ursula. She never complains. I am lucky in my choice of wife. Not that the choice was mine, of course.
The carriage slowed to a halt outside the Fairmont house.
The place buzzed with activity. The round courtyard in front of the house was packed with carriages, making slow and ponderous loops after dropping off their illustrious cargo in front of the steps.
Ladies and gentlemen in silks and satins climbed up the stone steps towards the front door, talking in genteel tones.
Lights blazed from the windows, and faint strains of music drifted from open windows.
Already, a good number of guests must have arrived, judging by the laughter and chatter coming from inside.
The carriage stopped altogether, and there was nothing for it but for Graham and Ursula to alight. He climbed out first, carefully handing her down. She landed on the gravel with a light crunch and offered him a grateful smile.
By the time they reached the front door, Graham realised that the evening would not go as smoothly as he had thought.
Everybody seemed to stare as they went by, and whispers sprang up in their wake.
Whenever he glanced down at Ursula, her face was serene and composed, but her hand tightened on his arm.
She’s nervous, he realised in a rush. I must do my best to protect her.
Lord and Lady Farendale waited for them at the door. Lord Farendale’s expression hardened, and he muttered some excuse, turning away. Graham ignored his rudeness.
Lady Farendale, at the very least, seemed delighted to see her daughter. Her expression brightened considerably, and she moved forward with enthusiasm to embrace and kiss Ursula.
“You are looking well, my darling,” she fluted, voice falsely cheerful. “Marital life agrees with you, I believe.”
Graham smiled and said nothing. He had heard a variation of that compliment applied to every single man and woman who he’d ever known to be wedded. As far as he knew, it was mere politeness, very much like assuring new parents that their baby was the most beautiful living being in the world.
“Thank you, Mama,” Ursula said, smiling. “I am glad to be here, truly I am.”
“And I am glad you are here. And Lord Sinclair, it is good to see you.”
“Call me Graham, please. We’re family, after all.”
He shook her hand, and she gave him a wan smile.
Behind them, guests were beginning to queue up the steps, waiting to greet their hosts, and Graham realized with a sinking heart that he was going to have to move along.
“We’d best go in, Ursula,” he murmured. “Shall we find Miss Winter?”
“One last thing,” Lady Farendale said impulsively, her hand shooting out to grab her daughter’s wrist. “I had to invite Lord Ashford. I’m sure you understand, and he is here with… oh, you’ll see. Just be prepared, Ursula, dear.”
With that, Lady Farendale turned to the next guests with a wide, false smile, and Graham and Ursula were obliged to move along.
The house, of course, was full. Even so, people managed to make room for Ursula and Graham as they passed through. A pocket of space seemed to follow them through the hallway and into the ballroom.
“This is horrid,” Ursula whispered, her voice cracking. “Well bless my soul, look at them all staring openly at me. Ah…look…there is Lord Ashford, with Lady Annabella.”
Graham followed her gaze and his jaw tightened. “So I see.”
Lady Annabella was clearly in her element.
Dressed in a voluminous ruffled pink gown which in Graham’s opinion made her look like a fondant cake, she was gliding around the room on Lord Ashford’s arm.
They were flanked by a few of Lady Annabella’s close friends, all fashionable and all suitably inferior in looks compared to her.
Lady Annabella craned her neck, carefully making eye contact with first Ursula and then Graham. She inclined her head in a very gracious nod, hardly able to keep the smile from her face. Lord Ashford did not look at either of them.
The two passed by, disappearing into the crowd. Graham barely had time to glare in their direction before Ursula tugged at his sleeve. He glanced down at her and was horrified to see an anguished expression on her face.
“Please, let us depart” she whispered. “Please? I can feign a headache.”
“Ursula, we cannot leave,” he whispered back. “That would look worse than if we had not arrived at all.”
"I fear I cannot endure this much longer," she whispered, her mouth turning down at the corners. "Their stares are most unsettling."
He stared at her for a long moment, chewing his lower lip.
“Ursula, were you… were you fond of Lord Ashford? I know you were commonly thought to be his first choice of bride. Are you disappointed not to have wedded him?”
She rolled her eyes, some of her anxiousness fading away.
“Oh, good gracious, Graham. No, I was not fond of him. That is, I didn’t dislike him, and I was prepared to wed him as it would have been a good match, but that is all. I just… I just feel discomfited being stared at so intensely.
“I would have thought the Diamond of the Season was used to being stared at.”
No sooner had he mouthed those words than he deeply regretted and wished he could have bitten his tongue clean off. The look of anguish on Ursula’s face felt more painful than a knife being driven into his heart.
He turned and faced her with a confident smile.
“Here,” he said, taking her arm and steering her towards the dance floor. “The dancing is beginning. How about we waltz, Lady Sinclair? As the latest wedded woman here, I believe perhaps it is your prerogative to open the ball.”
She blinked at him for a moment, then broke into a faint smile.
“Very well.”
“Keep your head up,” he instructed, “and don’t show any fear. You’re Lady Sinclair, viscountess, and you outrank most of the people there. If they are glaring at you, it is because it has only just dawned on them.”
She smiled again, a wider and more heartfelt one this time. “Upon my word, I daresay you are entirely in the right.”
Taking her hand, he led her into the center of the ballroom. Other couples were already taking their places, and there was a beat of hesitation before they realized that they were expected to make way. Eventually they did so, not without lacking any form of good grace.
It hardly mattered. Graham turned to face Ursula, smiling down at her.
She smiled back at him, nerves fluttering in her face.
He placed his hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin.
He recalled how she’d stood in front of him in the library, peering down at him with that singular, fond expression on her face.
He could still feel her fingers on his cheeks, and the taste of her lips on his.
“Ready?” he breathed.