21. Chapter 21
I had never been in a theatrical performance, but entering the Great Hall that evening on Ames’s arm, I felt like I was playing a part.
I smiled at the assembled guests, many of whom we’d greeted at the entrance as they had arrived.
My feet ached and the dancing had not even begun. How would I endure the next five hours?
“We will be expected to lead the first dance,” I said quietly to Ames as our guests cleared the dance floor and the orchestra began to play “The Blue Danube” by Johann Strauss, a popular waltz.
“I may have my faults,” he said under his breath, “but knowing what is required of me tonight is not one of them.”
With practiced ease, he drew me into his arms, and we came face-to-face.
His left hand slipped around my waist as he pulled me a little closer.
Memories from every dance we’d taken together, starting with the first at Lady Sheffield’s ball, returned to me.
Something unexplainable happened when I was in Ames Welby’s arms.
Though we’d stood next to each other for almost an hour, greeting our guests, we had not spoken about our encounter in my bedchamber. I wasn’t sure if he’d talked to Brant, and I didn’t want to know. It was not my place to go between them.
The other Welby brothers were staged around the room, each one looking handsome and stoic as the guests studied each detail of the Great Room and the great family who had invited them into their inner haven.
For some, it was the first time they’d been to Pickering Castle, and for others, they had not been since the last duke and duchess occupied the title.
Either way, there were questions on their faces, and, it seemed, I was the answer they were all looking for.
A duchess to open the castle and, perhaps, the heart of its lord?
I wondered if I had succeeded at one and failed at the other.
Ames watched my face as we danced. It was one thing to love each other, which I knew we did, and another to trust each other as partners.
“We have much to discuss when this house party is over,” he said to me, his voice devoid of emotion.
I thought of the child—our child—growing inside me and knew that we had even more to discuss than he realized.
“I long to be alone,” I told him. “It seems most of our trouble comes from the people around us.”
His face softened—just a bit. “I can be stubborn and headstrong and commanding,” he said. “Which has served me well as a duke and the patriarch of my family.” His voice lowered. “But it does not serve me as a husband.”
Though we were being watched by hundreds of people, I only had eyes for Ames.
“I am also stubborn and headstrong,” I conceded.
“Which served me well as an heiress and only child, until my mother remarried. But it does not serve me as a wife, either. I take matters into my own hands and think I know what is best.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Then we are a fine pair.”
My smile met his. “I hope so, Ames.”
“There are only two people in this world responsible for the success or failure of our marriage. No one else. Perhaps we should use that stubbornness to our advantage and be determined to make this work.”
I nodded, warmth flooding me.
When the song came to an end, Ames slipped my hand around his elbow, and we walked to the stage where the musicians sat. He motioned for them to still their instruments as we faced our guests.
“Welcome to Pickering Castle,” he said.
His greeting was met with a delighted expression from almost everyone in the room.
“My wife and I are pleased to see so many friends, family, and neighbors,” he continued. “For those who have yet to meet Her Grace, may I present the Duchess of Severton, Lily Welby.”
Everyone turned their curious gazes to me and I smiled, trying to quell the nausea that suddenly filled my stomach.
The look of pride on Ames’s face told me all I needed to know about his real feelings.
He might wear a facade most days, but it didn’t mean he was incapable of emotion.
It meant he didn’t want to be vulnerable.
In rare moments like this, when he let it slip so others could see his heart, it meant more to me than hearing he loved me a dozen times a day.
“We would like to take this opportunity to share two special announcements,” Ames said, motioning to his brothers to join us.
“Three,” Everett added as Ruth slipped her hand through his elbow and the pair stared at us.
Ames was speechless—and I was stunned. Thankfully, Ames recovered faster than me, and he said graciously, “Three announcements.”
Davis and Alice, Collins and Martha, and Everett and Ruth approached the stage.
The looks of surprise and curiosity on the faces of our guests were expected, but more than ever, I felt as if we were players in a theatrical performance, and we were doing a poor job of convincing the audience we knew our roles.
The looks that Collins and Martha gave to Everett and Ruth were stunned, and then uncomfortable, and then angry.
Davis and Alice appeared oblivious to anything going on around them, however, and grinned.
Ironically, it was Everett and Ruth who looked the most comfortable—yet I knew they were not truly in love. I suspected they had gotten engaged to hurt Collins and Martha.
As the master of hiding his true feelings, Ames pulled through and addressed the crowd as if he’d known about all three engagements the whole time.
“I am pleased to announce the engagement of my brother Lord Collins to Miss Martha Townsend.” He paused as the audience clapped.
“My brother Lord Davis to Miss Alice Ackerman.” Again, more applause—at least the audience knew their part.
“And—” Ames paused and gave Everett a questioning eye.
Everett nodded.
“And my brother Lord Everett to Miss Ruth Harrington.”
There was more polite clapping, and I used the opportunity to look for Ruth’s mother, Mrs. Harrington.
Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were shining. She looked as if she could not be happier with the arrangement.
Brant, on the other hand, stood with his arms crossed as a mixture of regret and disappointment played across his face. No doubt he wished there was a world in which he could proudly stand on that stage and declare his love for Molly. But society’s rules were unkind and unforgiving.
“I will invite our newly engaged couples to lead the next dance,” Ames said as he nodded at the orchestra to play.
As each of the couples walked onto the dance floor, I caught sight of Sarah Danby, standing next to a tall, handsome man with dark hair.
They spoke to one another as if they were old acquaintances.
The man watched Sarah with undisguised admiration, and Sarah looked up at him with a sort of awe on her face.
“Ames,” I said, touching his arm. “Who is that man speaking to Sarah?”
Ames turned his attention away from the dancing couples, leaned close to me, and said, “That’s Robert Bruxton, the Earl of Frenway.”
“He and Sarah look as if they know one another.”
“I would not be surprised. He was in London for the season, looking for a bride.”
“Did he have any luck?”
“I am uncertain. He had not found anyone before you and I were wed, and this is the first time I’ve seen him since then.”
Mrs. Danby stood beside Sarah, a step away to offer a little privacy—but close enough to probably hear their conversation. She, like Mrs. Harrington, had a very pleased look on her face.
Perhaps Sarah would snag an earl after all.
Another guest who stood out to me was Lord Torrington—Aunt Eliza’s son.
I was surprised he’d come, though I wasn’t sure why.
He didn’t seem uncomfortable or bored—just set apart.
Now that I knew he’d been a sea captain, it made sense why he stood at attention, his hands behind his back, his chin lifted, as he surveyed the room.
He didn’t seem cold or calculating, more disciplined and controlled.
But he also seemed lost inside himself, as if he wasn’t completely aware of the room or the people around him, but in a different time and place.
I’d noticed him that way with his children, as well.
I didn’t know George before his wife died, but I wondered if he had been a different man then.
Could he be that man again? If so, what kind of woman would it take to bring him back to himself?
“Do you think Everett asked Miss Harrington to marry him for good and honorable reasons?” Ames asked me, pulling me out of my reverie.
I glanced up at him, not wanting to start a fight but genuinely curious. “Does it matter to you? Are you not concerned only about her dowry?”
He gave me a look. “You know it’s never only about the dowry.”
“Then why did you say it was?”
“Because you vexed me, Lily, and I responded in kind. I admit, I was foolish for treating you the way I did, and I’m sorry.”
I smiled as I moved a little closer to him while we watched the couples. “I believe our marriage will do quite well if you repeat that to me several times a week.”
He laughed—the Duke of Severton laughed—causing several people nearby to turn their heads. It seemed the Welbys were full of surprises tonight.
But the biggest one of all—the engagement of Everett and Ruth—could not go undiscussed. At the first opportunity, I planned to ask my brother-in-law what on earth he was thinking. And my friend why she had agreed.
The opportunity came earlier than I expected.
As the couples danced, Martha kept sending heated looks over Collins’s shoulder toward Ruth and Everett—and Ruth scowled at her.
My two friends who had stood with me in Lady Sheffield’s ballroom only two months before on the night Ames had danced with me for the first time, were now rivals, it would seem.
As soon as the song ended and another began, our guests joined the engaged couples on the dance floor. Lord Frenway offered Sarah his arm, and she took it without hesitation.
Davis and Alice continued to dance, but Collins, Martha, Everett, and Ruth disbanded the moment the song ended.
Martha strode toward the exit, her chin high and her shoulders stiff.
Everett followed.
Leaving Collins and Ruth to stare at one another.
“Perhaps we had better step in,” I said to Ames.
He made no verbal response but led me off the stage and toward Collins and Ruth.
“I believe it’s time we had a little talk,” Ames said to Collins. He then turned to Ruth. “Would you like to join us, Miss Harrington?”
Ruth was pale, which heightened the redness of her hair and made her small freckles more prominent across her nose and cheeks.
I offered her my arm, and she clung to me as we left the same way Martha and Everett had gone.
We didn’t have to go far before we heard voices coming from the Cedar drawing room.
“Why did you ask her to marry you?” Martha asked Everett. “You do not love her.”
“Of course I do not,” he said. “You know I love you.”
“Then why?”
Ames did not hesitate but entered the drawing room, causing Everett and Martha’s conversation to end abruptly. They looked just as surprised as the night I’d caught them in my study.
Collins, Ruth, and I followed him in.
I closed the door behind us.
The room was lit with lamps and the glow of the fireplace. Though it was the beginning of August, the castle was chilly, especially at night.
“It seems we have a problem.” Ames crossed his arms as he glared at his brothers.
“Anyone with eyes and ears would know something is amiss, and we will not leave this room until we’ve righted any wrong that has been done.
” He looked from his brothers to Martha and Ruth.
“If I am mistaken, please correct my error.”
No one spoke.
The storm, which had held off all day, chose that moment to descend upon Pickering Castle. It blew in gusts, sending rain pattering against the large windows.
“Collins,” Ames began, “why did you ask Miss Townsend to marry you? Were you aware that Everett had affections for her?”
Collins did not answer immediately as he, too, crossed his arms. “I was.”
Martha let out a surprised gasp. “You told me that Everett was only toying with my affections. That was the only reason I agreed to marry you—to get back at Everett for leading me on.”
“Why would you lie to Miss Townsend?” Ames asked Collins.
“Because Everett tried to steal Ruth’s affections from me and I was angry.”
“I did no such thing,” Everett countered. “Ruth and I began to spend more time together because you stole Martha’s affections from me.”
The four of them began to quarrel as they made accusations and assumptions. Ames let them go on for a moment before asking, “Are any of you happy being engaged to your current fiancé?”
Four pairs of eyes stared at him, but no one spoke up.
Ames briefly closed his eyes in frustration before saying, “Then I would advise you to call off your weddings and work this out amongst yourselves. No more games or presumptions. Communicate and be clear with each other. I await your decisions.”
Without another word, Ames offered me his arm, and we left the drawing room.
“Do you think it wise to leave them on their own?” I asked him, given Collins and Everett’s history of brawling.
“They are adults—at least, they pretend to be—” He paused right before we reentered the Great Room.
“Now, before you tell me that I should let Brant make his own decisions, I must remind you that Brant is different. He is the heir to the Earl of Bedford, and the expectations on his life are greater than Collins and Everett’s. Brant has far fewer choices.”
“I will not get involved in a discussion about Brant,” I told him. “As far as I’m concerned, I have washed my hands of that situation because I value my marriage too much.”
Ames kissed me before we returned to the Great Hall, and not for the first time, I wished we were alone at Pickering Castle.
Perhaps our marriage would survive, after all.