Page 35 of A Duchess Worth Stealing (Saved by Scandal #2)

Chapter Thirty-Three

M ason stepped into the ballroom with Cordelia at his side, his mother having already swept ahead to join a knot of ladies eager for her company.

Yet he could feel the shift in the atmosphere as they entered, the subtle lift of brows, the sudden turn of heads.

It wasn’t him they looked at, he knew. It was her .

Cordelia shone tonight. The pale silk of her gown seemed spun from moonlight itself, her hair coiled in a style that bared the elegant line of her neck, a single sapphire winking at her throat.

She moved with unstudied grace, her every step drawing the eye, her smile, lighting her face in a way that made something deep in his chest stir.

And that was the danger.

He reminded himself, as he had been doing for days now, that theirs was not a real marriage. That he had agreed to this arrangement to protect her from Lord Vernon, not to bind her life to his in any deeper sense. He could not let himself believe otherwise.

Cordelia leaned toward him as the string quartet’s music swelled, her voice low so only he could hear.

“The musicians are marvelous tonight,” she said, her tone light, as if coaxing him into conversation. “And the food looks quite… extravagant. Have you tried the champagne? I’m told it is excellent.”

He kept his eyes on the swirling crowd. “I’m here because my mother advised it,” he said flatly. “To make a proper show for the ton, to let them believe our marriage is as it appears. Otherwise, I would be at home, far from all this glitter and pomp I despise.”

The words came out sharper than he’d intended, but he didn’t take them back. He saw her smile falter though she tried to keep her expression composed, her chin tilting upward in that small, proud way of hers.

“I see,” she murmured.

It was the smallest wound, invisible to anyone else, but to him, it was as if he’d struck her.

“You needn’t worry,” she went on, her voice carefully even. “You don’t have to dance with me at all. I’ll manage perfectly well without the appearance of such… pretenses.”

He wanted to tell her that they could manage at least one dance together, that it would cost him nothing to hold her for the span of a waltz, but before he could speak, her gaze shifted over his shoulder.

“I see Hazel and Matilda,” she said, almost in relief. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And then she was gone, leaving him standing alone in a room full of people, feeling the cold of his own words settle heavily in his chest. Before he could even think what to say or do, he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

“Well, cousin,” Jasper’s voice drawled, smooth as velvet and just as irritating, “that looked suspiciously like your lovely wife fleeing the scene. Dare I assume you’ve committed some dreadful marital offense already?”

Mason turned, his jaw tight. “I’m not in the mood for your commentary.”

Jasper only grinned wider, utterly unbothered. “Ah, so you have done something.” He glanced toward the far side of the ballroom where Cordelia now stood among Hazel and Matilda. “Beautiful, radiant, and already escaping your company. Truly, your charm is unmatched.”

Mason exhaled sharply, his irritation threatening to boil over, but then Jasper’s hand stayed on his shoulder, the grip steady.

“Easy,” Jasper said in a quieter tone, his eyes, which were so often alight with mischief, were now softening just slightly. “You’re coiled tighter than a gun spring. Whatever the trouble, glaring at the crowd like you mean to shoot half of them won’t help.”

Against his better judgment, Mason’s tension loosened a fraction. Jasper had always been infuriating, but he also had an uncanny way of dismantling his darker moods before they could take root.

“Come,” Jasper continued, straightening and flashing one of his insufferably charming smiles at a passing group of debutantes. “Have a drink with me before you terrify the entire ton. You look like a man in need of strong liquor and stronger counsel.”

They moved toward the refreshments table, Jasper sweeping two glasses of brandy into his hands with practiced ease.

“To marital misery,” Jasper said cheerfully, handing one to Mason.

Mason shook his head but drank anyway, the burn of the liquor grounding him.

Jasper’s gaze drifted toward the far side of the room. “Well, well… look who’s here. The ever-dignified Lady Matilda.” His smile curved into something positively wicked. “She looks just as delightfully irritated as the last time I saw her.”

Mason followed his line of sight. Matilda stood beside Hazel and Cordelia, arms crossed, chin tilted at an angle that suggested she was prepared to take offense at the next man who dared approach.

“You’ve been watching her a lot,” Mason pointed out, grateful for the change of topic.

Jasper scoffed. “What? No. Absolutely not. I merely find her… amusing.”

“Amusing?”

“Yes. As in, I adore tormenting her.” He sipped his drink, eyes glittering. “She’s utterly immune to my charm which is both insulting and… refreshing.”

“You like her,” Mason said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“I most certainly do not.” Jasper’s expression was all mock indignation. “I’m simply performing a public service by keeping her from growing too comfortable in her scowl.”

“Mhm.” Mason arched a brow. “You keep telling yourself that.”

They clinked glasses again, both taking a sip, watching the swirl of silk and lace on the dancing area.

Jasper glanced sideways at him. “So… care to explain why your wife looked like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of lemon when she walked away from you?”

Mason’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Ah,” Jasper said, leaning an elbow on a nearby table. “Then I suppose the truth is you enjoy seeing her sad?”

Mason shot him a dark look. “Of course not.”

“Then why are you doing such an admirable job of making it happen?” Jasper’s tone was deceptively light, but his eyes were sharp. “You used to smile more. Now you’re back to your brooding ways. It’s tedious, cousin. And I suspect you’re not the only one suffering for it.”

Mason looked away, scanning the crowd until he found Cordelia again. Her head was bent toward Hazel, and her laughter seemed polite although it did not reach her eyes.

“She knows where we stand,” he said at last. “It’s better this way. Distance will spare us both.”

Jasper snorted into his glass. “Spare you both from what? Happiness?”

“This marriage was never meant to be real.”

Jasper leaned closer, lowering his voice. “And yet here you are, glaring at every man who so much as looks at her. Admit it, Mason, you’re playing a dangerous game. She’s not the kind of woman you can keep at arm’s length without losing her entirely.”

Mason said nothing, but his grip on the glass tightened.

Jasper straightened, his grin returning like a mask. “But far be it for me to tell you how to handle your wife. I’ll just keep amusing myself with Lady Matilda while you stew in whatever this is.”

With a playful clap on Mason’s shoulder, he wandered off toward the trio of women, leaving Mason with a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the brandy.

Cordelia looked up as Jasper Everleigh strolled toward them, his smile warm and utterly confident, as though the crowded ballroom existed purely for his amusement.

“Ladies,” he greeted, bowing with an elegant flourish. “You grow lovelier each time I see you. I may have to take up poetry just to do you justice.”

Matilda gave him a withering look. “Ah, Your Grace. Again, you favor us with empty flattery.”

“Ah, but when it comes from me, it is never empty,” Jasper said, his eyes dancing with mischief. “It is… overflowing.”

Hazel stifled a laugh behind her fan, and even Cordelia felt her lips twitch.

Then Jasper’s gaze fixed on Matilda with deliberate intent. “In fact, I find myself so inspired this evening that I must ask you for the next dance.”

The little circle went still. Cordelia glanced at Hazel, who seemed equally caught off guard.

Matilda blinked then tilted her chin. “Oh, I… cannot dance this evening. You see, my slipper?—”

“—is perfectly suited for the task,” Jasper finished smoothly. “And if nothing else, politeness demands you accept, lest I be forced to stand here rejected before half the ton. Can you bear such cruelty, Lady Matilda?”

Hazel let out a soft laugh. “He’s right, you know. It would be most unkind to refuse.”

Matilda gasped in exaggerated outrage. “Hazel! How could you possibly take his side over mine?”

“I live for balance,” Hazel said with mock solemnity. “Besides, it’s far too entertaining to see you bested.”

Cordelia smiled at their exchange, the teasing energy lightening the heaviness she had carried all evening. And yet, a small thread of disappointment tugged at her; why had Mason not approached them, too? He remained at the far side of the ballroom, speaking with no one, his gaze elsewhere.

“Come, My Lady,” Jasper said, offering his arm with a smirk that left Matilda little room for refusal.

After a dramatic sigh and a muttered, “You are insufferable,” she placed her hand in his. Jasper led her away toward the dance floor, looking triumphant.

Cordelia leaned toward Hazel, her voice low so as not to be overheard above the swell of music and laughter. “I think I shall step out for a breath of fresh air.”

Hazel immediately straightened. “Then I’ll come with you.”

Cordelia shook her head, offering a reassuring smile. “No, no, stay and enjoy yourself. I’ll only be a moment.”

Hazel hesitated, clearly torn, but the sight of Matilda and Jasper whirling onto the dance floor drew her gaze back to the merriment. “Very well,” she said, “but don’t disappear for too long.”

“I won’t,” Cordelia promised.

She slipped away from the crowded room, weaving past clusters of chattering guests until the cool night air beckoned her through the open terrace doors.

The moment she stepped outside, the sounds of the ball softened to a distant hum, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint chirp of crickets.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The evening air was tinged with the faint sweetness of late-blooming jasmine, and it cooled the heat that had risen in her cheeks during the long evening.

For a moment, she simply stood there, letting the breeze wash over her, grateful for the quiet.

But before she could truly enjoy the moment, she heard footsteps from somewhere behind her and a voice that felt like steel scraping against rusty iron.

“Well, well, well… finally, we can talk alone without any distractions.”