The banquet was being held in the grand hall by the Duke of Hadley. Ginelle knew very little of the man except that he and his wife, the Duchess of Hadley were members of English nobility and highly admired among the ton. During the following weeks before the banquet, she had learned that Edmund Wilkinson was a prominent diplomat and before his title as a duke, an armed mercenary.
Ellison Wilkinson, the Duchess of Hadley was rumored to be quite striking in beauty and profoundly refined in etiquette. According to Lucile, the Duchess was the epitome of perfection when it came to nobility standards.
Ginelle found herself in a chaos of frantic maids and an assortment of accessories and extravagant gowns. She was keen to notice that Ingrid was absent from the circle of maids crowding her. She had not given much thought to the girl since that day she returned to Ashford and received the news that Ingrid had been the one to plant the jewelry in her bureau. She later learned the maid no longer resided at Ashford, but at a neighboring plantation.
Despite the continuous somersaulting of her stomach and jittery nerves, she couldn't but laugh as Lucile hastened about the room in a distressed manner. She had never witnessed the maid so frenzied.
"You must look your very best this evening." Lucile stated as she gathered a few gowns from the bureau.
Ginelle managed a peak from beneath the mass of curls atop her head as Belle poked and prodded with pins to sort the tedious tresses.
After nearly an hour of Lucile's indecisive study of gowns, they decided on a gorgeous dress of satin maize with elbow-length sleeves adorned with falling ruffles. The neckline and hem was trimmed in a white lace with an embroidered bodice. The tiered skirt had been intricately stitched with moderate care with full, flowing skirts to accentuate the fitted gown.
Once fully dressed, Ginelle took a moment to admire the reflection staring back at her in the mirror. For a moment, she almost fooled herself into believing that she belonged in such a magnificent gown and the woman staring back at her was Lady Ginelle Pattinson and not Ginelle Hayes, impoverished orphan.
How did she get here? How could she have allowed this nonsense to continue? And now she was to attend a banquet for her coming out, hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hadley?
She turned from the mirror, suddenly dispirited. Lucile approached and handed her a pair of lovely white slippers. Ginelle slipped them on her feet and waited as Lucile accessed her appearance.
"You are going to have every man swooning at your feet!" exclaimed Belle.
"Belle!"
Belle straightened and flattened her palms on her apron. "Well, you will." She stated with a sheepish grin.
"I do not wish to speak of men swooning at my feet."
Lucile clasped her hands together to gain their attention. "We've prolonged the evening long enough." She turned to look at Fannie, another maid who had assisted in getting Ginelle ready for the evening. "Fannie, please go and fetch Ginelle's cloak and inform Master Dorian that we shall be down shortly."
At the mention of Dorian, Ginelle's heart pitched whether from excitement or dread, she knew not. She could not say that she had forgotten that Dorian would be escorting her for the evening for he had rarely left her thoughts since that night in the forest. She felt a blush stain her cheeks as she recalled vividly how he had touched her, claimed her with his lips.
How could she have acted so brazenly knowing Dorian wanted to be rid of her? If he wanted her gone, than why would he kiss her, touch her?
She had rarely seen him since that night. She knew not how her body would react once she did. Her mere thoughts had her brain rattled with questions and uncertainty to the reaction of her body whenever he came to mind.
She would have rather endured the company of the tons most notorious gossipmonger than have that unbearable brute as her chaperone!
Dorian braced his weight against the window sill, his left arm extended above his head and in his right hand, a glass of brandy. Ah, how he enjoyed these moments of distilled liquor and disturbing thoughts, he mused silently, anything to chase away the burning desire in his body.
He downed the last remnants of the glass and set it aside as he stared down at the arriving carriage. He was going to need a lot more brandy to get him through this night. Though Edmund Wilkinson was a dear and old companion, who willingly obliged his request to host Ginelle's coming out banquet at his grand home, he loathed the night's event and all its inhabitants attending. He had to continue to remind himself that this was a good happening.
Some poor sap was going to come along and offer a proposal that would finally rid him of his burden and he would gladly oblige the unfortunate bastard. His hands curled into fists at the thought of another man touching her.
He heard a knock at the door and ignored it. A second knock followed and he grounded his teeth until finally the door squeaked open. "Milord?"
Dorian turned to cast a dark glare at Bogart, but the older serf was not deferred by his Master's black expression. "The carriage has arrived milord; and one of the maid's have informed me that Mistress Ginelle is ready."
He said nothing but turned back to the window. He waited until Bogart left the room until he left the window to retrieve his waist-coat draped across the back of the chair. He eyed the brandy bottle with much contemplation and decided against it. He needed a clear head for this evening.
He left the confines of his study and descended the winding stairs where he found Bogart waiting with the coachman. He paused at the last step to retrieve a cigar from within the pocket of his coat but his fingers froze half way; his eyes captivated to the top of the stairs.
Ginelle made her way down, carefully gripping the banister as her legs melted like butter beneath that riveting, blue stare. Immediately she was taken aback by how striking Dorian appeared in his black waist-coat fitted to the contours of his big frame. Beneath it he wore a white linen shirt, opened at the front to reveal rippling, bronze muscle. His long, lean legs were encased in black breeches with patent leather boots to adorn his feet. His jet-black hair had been tamed for the evening, pulled back by a leather thong to accentuate the severity of his handsome face.
She felt a hot sensation stir in her belly as she remembered the way his arms felt around her, the way his mouth claimed hers so diligently and she blushed deeply. How could anyone look so wickedly handsome?
The way he looked at her, those glacial eyes moving slowly over the length of her in bold appraisal, intensified the searing flame threatening to consume her.
She felt that familiar shock of electricity and wondered if any man could affect her the way Dorian did? Those blue eyes seared her to the last step and she nearly lost her balance for that smoldering look had such an intense lure on her senses. His disposition reeked black with a grim expression etched into his granite face and she wondered where is that man who had kissed her so tenderly, so passionately in the forest?
Fannie must have given Dorian her cloak for he had the garment draped over his arm. He helped her into it and she gasped as she felt the brush of his fingers along the nape of her neck. She turned and he offered her his arm and she tentatively accepted.
As they made their way outside, she unknowingly shrank closer to his side as the blackened sky released a deep rumble of thunder. The humid air struck her face in a clammy caress. As Dorian assisted her into the carriage she felt her stomach churn at the thought of the approaching storm.
She settled into the leather seat and stared out the window, her eyes widening at the tree limbs struggling against the unexpected gust of wind.
"The storm frightens you?"
Ginelle jerked to awareness at Dorian's deep, gruff voice, unaware that he had been watching her from across the space of the carriage, taking keen notice to the display of emotions crossing her face.
"Yes." She said lightly.
He said nothing but flexed his jaw as he continued to stare at her. Ginelle was suddenly annoyed despite her fear of the storm. In some way or another, she provoked his temper without meaning to do so. "Do you find my fear childish?" she demanded, lifting her chin.
He tilted his head to better survey the sudden spark that lightened her eyes to soft amber. "When fear is absolute it is never childish."
She narrowed her eyes at him, "Then why do you look at me so as if I have upset you? Have I done something to displease you?"
Dorian's expression darkened as he crossed his arms against his chest. What could he say to her? That he was angry? Aye, he was angry.
He was angry because he demanded that she marry. He was angry that she even suggested going to a convent when her home was at Ashford. He was even angrier that he was confined to this blasted carriage with its small compartment to entice his senses with the sweet smell of heather.
She was a vision in that yellow dress that enhanced her ethereal beauty. He loved the way her silver-blond hair settled on her head, a mass of curls piled high with several strands caressing the distinct line of her jaw. How he ached to replace those wayward strands with his fingers as he recalled the softness of her skin.
He loved her petite frame and small breasts pressed firmly in the bodice that accentuated her tiny waist. His groin hardened with a stab of lust as he remembered the feel of her breasts in his hands and her immediate response to his affections. He admired her delicate hands and small, pert nose lifted now in defiance. He had never been more captivated. Even now his body burned with that fire, that quick and swift demand to take her, now in this carriage. He wanted her, damn it, and he envied the bastard who would have her.
His hands curled against his chest and he averted his eyes away from her. He couldn't stare at her without wanting to taste her honeyed mouth and if he had to endure her presence any longer, he might very well act on selfish impulse and take what his body demanded.
Ginelle gritted her teeth and forced herself to look out the window. He was absolutely infuriating. He avoided her questions or just wouldn't give her straight answers. He was intolerable!
The remainder of the ride, a heavy silence settled between them and both were keenly aware of the other. It wasn't until they arrived to their destination that Ginelle released a sigh of relief.
The carriage rolled to a stop and the coachman opened the door and stepped aside as Dorian stepped down. He turned and extended a hand to Ginelle and she accepted only because she feared her legs would give out beneath her. When her feet touched the ground, she started to pull away from Dorian but his fingers, strong and assertive, seized her wrist in a firm grip.
"I am to escort you, milady." He said as he pulled her closer to his side. She would have gladly jerked her arm free if not suddenly aware of the boisterous noise of an immense crowd waiting inside.
**********
Ginelle could hear the quadrille band as they made their way inside. As they passed the front staircase lined with bodies, she caught a group of women standing close together, leaning in to whisper amongst each other. They spotted her and eyed her with deep curiosity. Ginelle quickly averted her eyes dreading the night to come for she was to be the topic for the evening.
The room was marvelous with high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers. The polished floor stretched out before her, dotted with powdered faces and fancy waist-coats. The windows were draped with gold tapestries including a set of double doors at the opposite end of the room leading to what seem to be a garden.
Ginelle felt herself shrinking against Dorian, seeking the comfort of his familiarity as numerous amounts of eyes turned to survey them. She noticed instantly how many turned to whisper in the ear next to them, others stared curiously, eager to know more about the woman on Dorian Don Ashford's arm.
She knew the contrast of the two of them was indubitably striking. He was tall, dark and irrevocably handsome where as she was small and fair. As more turned to study them in apparent interest she felt a crimson red stain her cheeks. She would have liked nothing more than to simply disappear.
Long, trestle tables lined each side of the grand hall, each decorated with an assortment of diverse dishes from an array of sweetmeats to a selection of roast quail, glazed ham and chicken. Refreshments consisted of tea, coffee and a variety of wine and brandy for the gentlemen.
The orchestra struck a merry tune and Ginelle stopped to admire a display of theatrics. She had heard that some banquets hosted spectacles meant to amaze the guests but surely all this wasn't for her coming out?
"I was beginning to wonder if you and the young miss were going to make your debut." Ginelle turned as a voice rang out from the crowd.
A man approached them, equipped in a cutaway coat of black velvet embroidered with gold ornamentation and black breeches that hugged his lean frame. He was tall and lean; his hair a deep auburn with eyes the color of cocoa.
The man smiled a beguiling grin as he extended a hand to Dorian who immediately accepted. They shook hands and than roughly embraced and slapped each other delightedly on the back.
Ginelle stepped aside, amazed as humor brightened Dorian's eyes, transforming his face completely; he was absolutely beautiful when he smiled.
"You forget your manners, darling." A woman separated from the crowd and fell in at the man's side, placing a small hand in the crook of his arm.
A smile touched Ginelle's mouth as the woman looked at her in genuine interest; her green eyes were warm and inviting, resembling that of an emerald meadow beneath the summer sun.
The man smiled as he wrapped a secure arm around the woman's waist. "Dorian, this is my wife, Lady Ellison Wilkinson, the Duchess of Hadley. Ellison, this is Lord Dorian Ashford, an old colleague and dear friend of mine."
Dorian grinned as he took Ellison's extended hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, "A pleasure, milady." He straightened, released her hand and added, "My thanks your grace for hosting the banquet at your hall."
The Duke laughed, "Dorian has very little patience for social gatherings."
Lady Ellison smiled softly, her green eyes twinkling with merriment. "I have heard much about you, Lord Dorian. I am honored that I could accommodate you."
"My wife has out done herself with the festivities." The Duke said amusingly, purposely avoiding Dorian's dark glare.
Ginelle was amazed. This man and woman were the Duke and Duchess of Hadley? The Duke was charming and enlightening, not at all what she expected, and a friend of Dorian's? The Duchess was indeed a vision of perfected beauty with flawless skin and jet-black hair pinned high atop her head. She had chosen a gown of sparkle tulle with an embellished bodice done in gold rhinestones to match that of her husband's ensemble. They were the ideal couple of nobility, she mused quietly, admiring them in discreet observation.
Dark, brown eyes shifted to her and instantly she felt her face blush a deep red. "You must be the lovely Lady Ginelle?"
She nodded as she offered a shy smile and extended her hand to the Duke. "Edmund Wilkinson, at your beck and call, milady." He smiled a dazzling grin and Ginelle's smile broadened.
"I pray that the festivity is to your liking?" the Duke asked, his dark eyes glinting back at her.
Ginelle nodded, "Yes, very much, thank you your grace." She turned to address the Duchess, "I am very grateful for all your efforts."
The Duchess smiled, her green eyes brightening with contentment. "I look forward to such events so that I may make new acquaintances."
"Well, we will not keep you." The Duke said, taking his wife's offered arm. He turned to Ginelle, "I hope milady that you will enjoy the evening and mayhap grant this old fool a dance?"
Ginelle smiled, unaware that Dorian watched her. "It would be a pleasure, your grace."
He laughed, "That is where you are wrong, my dear. The honor is mine."
One curtsied and the other bowed, as was custom and Ginelle watched as Edmund led Ellison away, his arm wrapped gently around her waist, ushering her through the crowded room. Her heart soared at the thought of befriending such a genuinely, friendly couple.
Dorian took her arm and led her to a table. She imagined what Eloise would have thought of the festivity and how she would have loved the occasion. Her laughter would have mesmerized the room.
Ginelle settled into her seat and watched as Dorian stalked away without so much as an explanation. Immediately she felt his somber mood and she felt her temper flare as she glared at his disappearing back.
She kept her posture straight, remembering that proper etiquette and posture were vital. Lucile continued to remind her that improper behavior was unacceptable and could very well taint her image. Her eyes searched the room, instinctively aware of the many eyes staring back at her.
Her heart somersaulted in her chest and she cursed Dorian beneath her breath for leaving her alone, subjected to the many probing eyes watching her.
Lucile had claimed it was imperative to impress the ton. Ginelle cringed on the inside at the thought.
Dorian returned with a glass of wine in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. He settled into the seat across from her and handed her the glass of wine. She accepted it gingerly and gently swirled its contents. She had never tasted the fermented juice but she was eager to experience new things for the evening itself was an experience all its own.
Those blue eyes studied her over the brim of his glass and she quickly shifted her gaze else where, sudden vivid images of their moment together in the forest came rushing back and she felt heat creep up her neck.
Ginelle quickly sought an escape, anything to not think of their intimacy shared. "Do you plan on being foxed for the evening?" she narrowed her eyes at the glass in his hand.
Dorian lowered his brandy and arched a dark brow at her as his mouth quirked into a grin, "Would my drunkenness concern you?"
She quickly concealed her scowl, aware that many watched her. "I am merely concerned that you will make a spectacle of yourself." She averted her eyes to survey the band across the room.
Dorian released a low laugh as he set his glass down and Ginelle turned to peer back at him. "What do you find so amusing?" she demanded.
"I would think you are concerned that I might scandalize your image?"
Ginelle clenched her mouth shut against the sudden words that rushed to mind. She knew he favored the intoxicant but would he really dampen his reputation and ruin her image? She couldn't fathom Dorian going to such an extreme all because he disapproved of her? Remembering the way he had kissed her in the forest, she wasn't all too sure on how Dorian felt about her.
She knew he wouldn't do anything irrational. Eloise had relished in social occasions such as this and she was certain he wouldn't do anything to taint his sister's shadow.
His blue eyes gleamed back at her and she wondered for a moment if he really would make a spectacle.
A shadow fell over their table and both paused in their silent anger to peer up at Lieutenant Cummings. Dorian narrowed his eyes at his Lieutenant and his expression darkened as Ginelle's face brightened, her lips tilting into a tantalizing smile as Cummings greeted her with a dashing grin.
Dorian scowled deeply. He was all too aware of Cummings winsome antics in seducing youthful beauties.
He glared venomously at the Lieutenant over the rim of his glass as he brought it to his lips for an eager sip, anything to chase away the sudden jolt of jealousy surging through his veins.
"You are exquisite, milady." His russet eyes glinted mischievously and Dorian could barely refrain from slamming his glass down.
Ginelle extended a hand to Cummings and he proceeded to kiss her offered hand. "May I inquire for that dance, Lady Pattinson?"
Ginelle nodded eagerly, anxious to escape Dorian's company and the feelings he stirred in her. Cummings helped her to her feet but as she straightened, strong fingers seized her arm and pulled her back against a hard body. Her face flushed a deep red as her heart jerked against her chest in a frantic flutter.
"As is accustomed, the lady is to dance first with the partner in which she arrived with." His voice, deep and dangerously low, sent a shiver through her and she could all but drag air into her lungs for his mere presence robbed her of breath.
Cummings grinned and than bowed, easily submitting, "Of course."
Ginelle watched him leave. She gasped as Dorian's fingers tightened around her arm. Heat spread beneath his fingers, along her skin, warming her senses in a frightening but exhilarating way. Why did the merest touch unravel her so?
She was whisked out onto the floor in blinding haste as the orchestra pit created an unlikely tune with the fierce stroke of several violins blending in union to create a mystical waltz.
Ginelle inhaled sharply as Dorian's arms pulled her close, pressing her intimately against the hard contours of his muscled frame. She peered up and felt her legs turn to liquid as he stared down at her in pools of smoldering, blue heat. She trembled as he whirled her out, her skirts billowing as he spun her, and than jerked her back against him.
She attempted to pull away but his fingers only tightened as he twirled her away and reeled her back again. His arm slipped around her waist and she felt heat spread at the base of his fingers. That glacial blue stare remained frozen, fixated on her as he fell into step with other couples joining in on the waltz.
Ginelle was intimately aware of every inch of his solid, masculine frame. The firm set of his jaw and the sharp glint in his icy eyes set her heart at a pulsating pace. She felt that tingling sensation, spreading wide, a distinct, fierce urge for him to claim her lips, to kiss her as he had done in the forest. She felt the rise and fall of her breasts and remembered distinctively the way his fingers had done tantalizing things to her.
How could he have such an effect on her? He was dangerous. Everything she warned herself against. How could her body react in such a way, by a mere touch, a scorching look?
His face was a dark mask, concealing any expression with a hardened layer of resolve, but the heat in his eyes spoke of his hunger, his burning desire.
The violins blended into perfect captivation as if a gypsy played a tune for her enchanted beholder. The cadence of the melody lessened to a provocative rhythm, creating a hazy moment that stirred Ginelle in an indescribable way.
She released a tiny, sharp breath as heat spiraled low in her belly at the touch of his hand, caressing the underside of her breast. She struggled to focus on the steps of the waltz as her body turned to liquid beneath his smoldering gaze. She moved along the dance floor on unsteady legs, as her heart beat wildly in her chest, his eyes blazed with a fervid heat, a burning that unraveled her completely.
Suddenly, his eyes lifted to a spot above her head and Ginelle frowned as his mouth stretched into an exasperated grin.
They stopped in the middle of the floor and through the haze of crowded bodies, she found Nathaniel, watching from afar, his body seething with contempt before he turned and slipped into the shadows, disappearing from Ginelle's line of sight.
She whirled, her jaw dropping with outrage and mortification as Dorian stared down at her with cold reprisal glinting sharply in the depths of his icy glare.
Angry and humiliated by her body's treacherous reactions to his touch, she opened her mouth for a cutting retort to his antagonizing manner but he stepped towards her, his face darkening as he leaned close enough to say for her ears alone, "Curb your tongue milady, for your every gesture and motion is being observed."
Ginelle bristled silently. She was such a fool. He had purposely touched her to provoke Nathaniel!
She narrowed her eyes at him as she stepped away from him. She would have liked nothing more than to give him a tongue-lashing but she was instinctively aware of her every move being scrutinized. She refrained from speaking the lingering thoughts on her tongue, instead she turned and slowly walked from the room, her spine rigid and her chin held high.
Dorian watched her retreating back with a minatory rage. He returned to his seat and glared murderously across the dance floor where Sharp had been moments ago. He had succeeded in flaring the bastard's temper, which was very clear from the discernable hatred in the man's eyes.
He would not feel remorse for humiliating her. The very thought of Sharp touching her had his temper in an uproar. He was well aware of Sharp's reputation and Ginelle would not fall prey to his covetous appetite for wealth. He would be damned if Nathaniel Sharp were to lay a hand on her.
"You seemed to have improved in the techniques of ball room dancing, mon amour."
Dorian groaned inwardly as he averted his gaze from the vacant entrance of the grand hall to look up at the flame-haired beauty with eyes of smoldering blue. She had donned a gown of shimmering red wine with a flattering neckline that dipped low in the front to flaunt her bountiful breasts. Her red hair rested high atop her head, clearly in the latest style, adorned with a crimson ribbon. She chose the gown specifically for the way it molded to her luscious curves, leaving little to the imagination.
Dorian arched a black brow, "I don't recall you getting an invitation, Victoria."
Victoria Petroff shrugged carelessly as she settled across from Dorian. "You know that I cannot resist such an occasion, especially when their might be a vigorous gentleman eager to pay for my services." She grinned a lustful grin but Dorian was unaffected.
She studied him for a moment, contemplating another tactic. "I had hoped that you would be that gentleman." She leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Then again, you were never a gentleman."
Dorian straightened as Ginelle reappeared in the hall. He took notice to the faint blush in her pale face and the way her eyes searched the room. His eyes narrowed angrily. Was she looking for Sharp?
Clearly annoyed, Victoria scowled darkly and followed the direction of Dorian's intent gaze. When she noticed the little blond he had been dancing with standing in the entrance of the hall she was aghast.
"I see." She huffed; she turned in her seat to glare more directly at him. "Have you replaced me with that little whore?"
She stiffened as those cold eyes fixated on her and she froze. He had never looked at her in such a way and it terrified her. He had only looked at her with raw desire in his eyes but the sheer impact of his icy glare frightened her to the core. She knew Dorian was dangerous but she had never witnessed his anger.
"There's where your mistaken, Victoria." His eyes rested on her flushed face, "You are the whore." He said, undaunted.
Her mouth fell open in downright shock and her eyes widened at his harsh statement.
Dorian leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms against his chest, "Don't look so horrified, Victoria. Your reputation is quite notorious."
Victoria clamped her mouth shut and straightened her spine as she reached up to pat the side of her hair. "You need not state it so blatantly."
He grinned, "Ah, but whoring comes so naturally to you."
Victoria was deeply wounded. She cast a dark glare at the blond nymph across the room. "So who is she?" she demanded.
Dorian's eyes fell on Ginelle. She was clearly making it a point to avoid him. He nearly growled aloud when a man approached her.
Victoria tensed, frowning as a black expression contorted his handsome face. She had never seen Dorian react in such a way and she was absolutely, intolerably outraged that it wasn't her he responding so irrationally for.
Dorian recognized the young man as Byron Macaulay, barely a man and quite naïve in his youth. If Dorian was not mistaken, the boy might actually think himself in love with Ginelle by the way he was looking at her.
He felt a deep growl surface in his throat as he watched them from across the room, his eyes intense and waiting for the boy to make a move that could prove fatal to his wellbeing.
When the waltz ended and Macaulay curtsied to Ginelle, Dorian had every intention of intervening but as he moved towards her, a small hand landed on his arm, halting him.
He peered over at the Duchess as she smiled gently up at him, her attentive green eyes glinting prettily beneath the dim chandelier light. "Would you dance with me, Lord Ashford?"
Dorian resisted the urge to grit his teeth and produced a smile that didn't quite match the blood boiling in his veins.
He extended his arm to her, "Would be an honor, your grace."
As he led Lady Ellison to the floor, he spotted Ginelle and was slightly relieved to see her conversing with Edmund. "Are you enjoying yourself, milord?"
Dorian jerked his attention to Lady Ellison and smiled, "Yes, your grace, and yourself?"
"Please, call me Ellison." She insisted, "And yes, the evening has been quite joyous."
As they danced, Dorian's eyes wavered occasionally across the room, following a trail of maize skirts. He was unaware that Lady Ellison watched in silent humor, very aware of the grim expression contorting his rugged face.
"She is lovely, is she not?"
Dorian stiffened, his eyes shifting to the Duchess, "Your grace?"
"Your ward." She indicated with a nod to Ginelle, "She is quite lovely."
Dorian gritted his teeth, his eyes straying to the object of his thoughts. Lovely was not the word he would have used to describe her in that moment.
She was absolute perfection in all her innocence and pale beauty. No woman had ever driven him to jealousy but something about another man touching her drove him to the point of insanity. The thought of her marrying another seemed ridiculous. She belonged with a man who would protect her and love her above all things.
"Edmund and I did not see eye to eye when we married." He turned to Lady Ellison as she spoke, "I was quite against our betrothal." She admitted, "I was very certain I detested my husband." She smiled than, her green eyes brightening with adoration, "Love finds you when you least expect it, Dorian."
The waltz ended and Lady Ellison stepped back to dip in a curtsy. "It was a pleasure, milord."
"There you are!" Edmund appeared from the crowd, his brown eyes alight with affection for his wife as he took her arm gently in his hand. "You owe me a dance, lady wife." He nodded to Dorian as he led her away.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "What mischief are you at, clever one?" The Duchess smiled a beguiling grin up at her husband, and felt her heart swell with love and affection.
"Wait and see, mon amour."
**********