Page 15 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F rederica blinked, numbly.

What dance?

Allan had not asked her for a dance. He had not spoken of his intent to reserve a dance at all.

“Your wife looks rather startled by the idea of dancing with you, Lord Padleigh,” Lord Wetherington laughed loudly. “Perhaps she has changed her mind already about you?”

Frederica felt the fear pass over her again, as if a chill had fallen on the room. It was the same fearful sensation which had greeted her when she had first seen Lord Wetherington approaching her.

She had tried to believe these last few days that he couldn’t be in London at all, that she had not bumped into him because he was far away somewhere. Yet she had been wrong. Just as she had been wrong about the hope that his letters meant nothing.

The first thing he had asked her on his approach was if she had received his letters.

Allan pushed his hand more firmly toward Frederica. She reached out and took it as swiftly as she could.

“A dance would be lovely, yes, please,” she said.

“If you would excuse us, Lord Wetherington.” Lord Padleigh inclined his head toward Lord Wetherington. “I must claim my wife from you now.”

Lord Wetherington’s cool eyes washed over Frederica. She felt a lurch in her stomach — a fearful one that curled her gut. The way he looked at her reminded her too much of that night in her parents’ library.

She didn’t doubt that if she left the ballroom at any point this evening to visit the privy or go outside for some fresh air, he would follow her.

He makes me sick.

“Before you part, at least let me give you both my sincere congratulations.” Lord Wetherington bowed deeply. He affected such a good look of poise and well wishes that Frederica’s jaw slackened. “You are indeed a fortunate man, Lord Padleigh. A fine woman you have for a wife.”

His eyes swept over Frederica, and she gripped Allan’s hand a little harder.

“I know how lucky I am,” Allan said, his voice deep and abrupt. She looked at him in surprise. There appeared to be a muscle ticking in his jaw, a stiffening which betrayed just how ill at ease he was too. “Freddie?” he whispered to her, leading her away.

Something warm spread through her at hearing that nickname again. It was something intimate that only they shared.

They moved to the side of the room. Rather than Allan escorting her toward the dance floor, he chose a quiet corner, half hidden behind a burning candelabra.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice somewhat firm.

“I’m fine now,” she whispered.

“You looked… well, frightened.”

She could tell him. She knew that she could and probably should. Allan was her husband, now, and she had already shared her greatest secret with him. Would it not be right to tell him that the man at the other end of those letters was Lord Wetherington?

“I just never liked Lord Wetherington,” she said with unease. “He was more my parents’ friend than my own. He reminds me of their expectations.”

She reasoned that she kept the truth to herself because she feared Allan would make a scene if he discovered just how afraid she was of the man. Her parents had suffered enough scandal recently without adding a public humiliation to the list.

“Very well.” Allan didn’t look entirely convinced by her words, but he gave up and nodded all the same.

Frederica fidgeted with her glass repeatedly. She looked over Allan’s shoulder, quite terrified of seeing Lord Wetherington again.

“You look as far from a smile now as you did at our wedding ceremony,” he sighed.

“What?” She jerked her head around to look him in the eye. “I smiled at our wedding.” He raised his eyebrows. “I was nervous.”

“Oh, I know you were.” He managed a small laugh. “Yet what do you have to be afraid of now? We came here because I thought you’d enjoy yourself. Do not let me see that man ruin your whole evening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why the hell are you apologizing to me?” he said with another laugh. “Freddie, shouldn’t I be the one apologizing to you if I brought you somewhere you did not want to be?”

“It’s not that.” She shook her head at him. “It’s just sometimes smiling isn’t as easy as you feel it should be.” She even tried to force a smile now but failed miserably.

“Well, that smile was rather frightening.”

“You are so complimentary as a husband; have I told you that yet?” she teased him. When he laughed, she felt her first temptation to smile for many minutes.

With Allan, it was always easier to be that bit freer and speak her mind a little bit more.

“Come on, then.” He offered his hand to her again.

“Come on, what?” she repeated, not yet giving him her hand.

“How about we have that dance?” he suggested. “Maybe I’ll get to see you smile properly then? And there’s no need to look at my hand as if I am offering up a dead slug.”

“That’s not what I was doing!”

“We have danced together before, you know. We danced at Dorothy’s and Stephen’s wedding. Do you remember that?”

“How could I forget?” She put her glass down behind her. “I seem to remember I stood on your toe, and you stood on my gown, so all in all, a successful dance indeed.”

“Ah, making jests now, then I can still make you smile this evening. Yes, a very successful dance it was.” He waved his hand tauntingly in the air. “What do you say, Freddie? Dance with me?”

She couldn’t resist. She was listening to something stirring deep within her. It was the same warm feeling that had been in her gut ever since that morning when she had joined him for breakfast.

She placed her hands softly in his own. With that same gentleness, he steered her away from the corner where they had hidden themselves and moved the pair of them toward the dance floor. As the music changed, they took their places in the middle of the floor.

A very slow quadrille number began, the violins playing the opening notes with surprising sentiment and depth.

Frederica curtsied along with the rest of the ladies though at all times, she kept her gaze on Allan. He didn’t look away from her either as he bowed.

With the first movement, they approached one another, circling each other, holding hands. They then turned the other way, with Frederica trying her best not to think too much about how when Allan took her hand, she felt trembly all over.

It was nothing like the trembling fear that Lord Wetherington gave her.

This was all excitement…

They parted, circling the other dancers at their side, before coming back together again. This time, they linked arms, stepping toward one another then back again. Allan was still staring at her with that same intensity.

“It is the same dance we did at my sister’s wedding,” he said after a minute. “Do you remember it?”

“It is.” She nodded. “I could not forget it.”

“Because I tore your gown?” he suggested.

“Because I stood on your foot, and you yelped as if you were your sister.”

He offered a mock look of irritation. She had to stifle her giggle so as not to disrupt the dance.

They broke off, circling other dancers nearby and returning to face each other again, both now bearing a smile.

“There it is,” he remarked, his tone deep.

“There what is?”

As they circled each other, he moved his lips near her ear.

“Your smile,” he whispered. He had come so close that she felt clammy, a sudden sweat breaking across her temple and palms.

Thank God, I am wearing gloves!

They formed a circled with two other couples and performed a slow two-time step around their space, making it impossible to talk for a minute. In that quiet, Frederica couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at Allan. The sweating of her palms grew even worse when she saw that he was doing the same thing, sneaking a glance at her.

As they separated from the others and came back together, she saw that he was smiling fully.

“And what is your smile for?” she asked, unable to resist as they returned to the beginning of the dance, circling each other, clasping hands. “It’s quite a full smile.”

“I was just thinking how glad I am that I can be the one to cheer your spirits, even when you look very down indeed,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me. I want you to know that, and if I’m not mistaken, I think you’re beginning to believe it yourself.”

They turned to circle the people at their sides, leaving Frederica to stare after Allan. She was so busy fixating on him that she nearly walked straight into another dancer rather than around them. She murmured a hurried apology before moving back to Allan.

“Do you believe it?” he asked softly as they came together.

“That I’m safe with you?” she whispered.

They had been married a handful of days now. In that time, Allan had never once forced himself into her company. He’d sent her gifts, and the door which adjoined their chambers had remained firmly closed.

I have my freedom.

“Of course, I feel safe with you,” she said, the words escaping her in a rush.

“Good.” He turned her under his arm. “I have to tell you, Freddie, I’m very glad we married.”

“You are?” She turned back to face him so fast that she hurried the choreography. He bore a smile of amusement as he took her hands, ready to move forward and back from one another again. “Why?”

“Why?” he repeated in a chuckle. “Maybe some people marry for love in this world, and maybe we’re not that fortunate, but I believe I have found myself the best thing I could have possibly hoped for. I have married a friend.”

His hand was soft in hers as they joined with the others and performed a large circle.

Frederica’s heart was now hammering in her chest so hard that she wondered if it would crack her ribs.

Friend… he called me, his friend.

Was she happy at this statement? Yes, a part of her was, but there was another part that was crestfallen.

As they came back together, she tried to maintain her genuine smile as much as her body would possibly allow her to do.

“I am glad, too, Allan.”

Gladder than I can possibly say that I married you and not Lord Wetherington.

As they came to the end of the dance, the music softly closing, they stopped their movements and bowed and curtsied to one another. As Allan stood straight, he raised her gloved hand to his lips again. Was it in her imagination, or did he hold her hand longer to his lips than last time? Longer than he should have done in a public place?

His eyes never left her as he slowly lowered it again.

Could it never be love?

The words almost escaped her. It was what she longed to know — if she ever had a chance of Allan loving her, if there would ever be the remotest possibility that he would tremble with excitement at her touch.

“What do you say to taking our leave?” he whispered, tucking her hand through his arm. “We have made enough of an appearance for one night, haven’t we?”

Frederica found herself nodding. Yes, she was more than happy to leave, especially if it meant maintaining this feeling of being close to him as much as it was possible to do so.

They made their way back toward the entrance. Allan pulled on his frock coat, and as Frederica moved to take her pelisse from a manservant, she found Allan had taken it first. He helped her into the pelisse, slowly, even delicately, his fingers brushing the top part of her bare shoulders as he did so.

It doesn’t just feel like friendship.

She bit her lip to stop the words escaping her.

He linked their arms together as they walked out of the building.

“Well, that was some dance,” he said. At his words, a natural laugh fell from her lips.

“We’re doing better, too. My gown is intact, and you have no broken toes.”

“Ha! We are improving. We shall have to dance again next time.” He found their carriage, helping her up inside before he climbed up himself.

Rather than sitting opposite her as he had done on their journey to the ball, he sat beside her. The carriage set off, and it made their shoulders bump together.

They spent a minute or two in silence in the carriage with Frederica leaning increasingly on Allan’s arm as the journey went on. In the end, she felt so tired that she rested her head on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug her off or push her away. In fact, he seemed to lower his shoulder an inch, making it a little easier for her to use his shoulder as a pillow.

“You’re right,” she murmured.

“About what?”

“I never thought I’d be fortunate enough to marry a true friend.” She couldn’t look at him as she said the words, but she kept her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for asking me to marry you, Allan.”

“Thank you for saying yes,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, finding a sudden tiredness overwhelming her. Sleep wasn’t far off when she could have sworn, she felt something on the top of her head. Was that Allan kissing her forehead? No, it had to be in her imagination.

As she drifted off into a nap, one thing kept repeating through her mind. As lovely as that night had been, as safe as she felt with Allan, and as close to him as she felt now, there was one disappointment that could not be pushed back.

He cannot love me. He as good as said he could not.

Only when they arrived back at the house, and she woke from her nap did she understand what this truly meant to her. He stood in the open doorway of the carriage, offering his hand to help her down again.

“Freddie?” he whispered, clearly enjoying her new nickname, for the moonlight fell on his smile in the most glowing way.

She gave him her hand, finding she gripped it a little tighter this time as he helped her down. They walked across the driveway together, hand in hand, neither one of them showing any intention to move away from each other or even to release the grip they shared.

I wish it were possible that, someday, he could love me.