Chapter Ten

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Chapter Ten

“I believe I would very much like to attend a ball,” Oriana announced the next morning.

It was not well-received.

“Oriana?” Danielle queried, almost curiously, as she surveyed her companion from the curved rim of her teacup, poised just before her lips. The fact that Ori’s declaration had originated from the previously contemplative silence that had settled over the occupants in the drawing room for well over twenty minutes made it appear even more peculiar.

“A ball,” Oriana felt inclined to clarify, “a luncheon, a soiree- some form of social occasion. The sort where one associates with acquaintances, converses and dances- you know the sort, I’m sure.”

Dani narrowed her eyes. “You are teasing me,” she accused testily.

“Not at all. I merely feel somewhat confined,” Oriana admitted. She determinedly ignored Cole’s penetrating silver gaze, aware that his attention had been honed on her since the moment she had opened her mouth. “Restless.”

“I am not aware of any such events in the area,” Dani began slowly. “Besides which, I doubt very much that you will find such a thing this late into autumn.”

Ori smiled. “Would it be unfeasible to host one yourself then?”

From the head of the table, Rhys began to cough.

“Oh,” Dani murmured. “I hadn’t really considered the possibility-”

“We could invite our dearest friends,” Oriana urged eagerly. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see them all? It will be a small affair, of course, nothing too ostentatious, but… cosy.”

Having sufficiently recovered, Lord Ashcroft threw Oriana a withering glare. “With all due respect, Miss Brightmore,” he said with a tight edge to his voice, “Falmouth is not suited to the sort of affair you are speaking of.”

“Falmouth,” Dani challenged slyly, “or you, my lord?”

“Danielle-”

“Oh, come now, Rhys,” Lady Ashcroft admonished good-naturedly, which was testament to her soothing effect on the normally ornery and reclusive earl, “our guest is merely expressing the need for some excitement. We can be rather mundane company compared to what Oriana is usually accustomed to-”

“Oh,” Ori interrupted quickly, “that’s not it, at all. I am very content with the company present and could happily remain so for the duration of my stay at Falmouth.” For a brief moment, Oriana allowed her gaze to shift and find Cole’s, and in that moment her heart shuddered to a grinding halt in her breast and a burst of heat flushed through her body but she quickly recovered, averting her face and compelling her mind to shy from errant memories of the previous evening that lingered on the peripherals like hungry wolves waiting to pounce during a weaker moment.

“If you are content, Miss Brightmore,” Rhys said, “then why is there a need to fill these halls with guests?”

“Do not mind Rhys,” Dani told Ori with a grin. “He is not used to company.”

“I can speak for myself, Danielle.”

“And I,” his wife returned, “think that it would do you some good to host an event, Rhys. Goodness, Falmouth hasn’t seen something like that since… well, since we were betrothed.”

 Rhys sighed and the paper he had been reading was set aside, indicating the seriousness of the matter that he was required to consider. Solemnly, he regarded his wife and Ori discovered something new and intricate and wonderfully hopeful about the couple’s relationship: Rhys Ashcroft implicitly and irrevocably trusted and respected his wife. He would consider her every request, no matter how silly or frivolous it may seem, and give her due credit. It was not something Oriana could vouch for in other marriages where one appeared to dominate the other (more often than not one’s husband). Rhys and Dani operated as a well-oiled, functioning unit. “Would this… ball please you?” he asked her quietly.

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