Page 24 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

A t the end of their first fortnight would be a ball at Lady Penbury’s estate. While it wouldn’t last all day into the evening, such an affair required mental preparation for Genevieve.

Her walk that morning was short as she needed the time in her parlor to practice movements with her fan. Pulling in Elodie, the two women practiced fluttering and snapping and waving until the maid swore that she was certain to have broken her wrist through exhaustion.

This prompted Genevieve to practice a little longer before collecting a few books. “Do help me put those on my head, would you?”

Elodie frowned at the notion and then obeyed. There was a clear question in her eyes as she scooted backward against the wall to stay out of Genevieve’s way.

“Shall I follow you to catch the books, Your Grace?” The maid asked tentatively when Genevieve took a cautious step forward.

“Please don’t, that shall make me too nervous.

It’s been too long since I did this and I can’t…

” She couldn’t get her mother’s voice out of her head on days like today.

But she didn’t want to admit that. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d roped her maid into helping her practice her social mannerisms. “I cannot disappoint His Grace.”

The maid gave a short nod. They’d never really talked about the duke in the past, which Genevieve supposed was for the best. And while the two of them talked about much, there was certainly a vague uncertainty about everything happening at the moment.

I dread the moment she dares to ask about Julian. She shouldn’t, as my maid, but she’s got a clever tongue and sharp eyes. It’s clear she knows something is up but has said nothing. I can only hope I have convinced her there is at least a fondness between us.

Finding herself distracted by thoughts of her husband and a doubtful maid, Genevieve forgot about the two books on her head.

The way she’d been skirting a table while re-planning the night’s dress, since the duke had a footman deliver a ruby and diamond necklace to her that morning, couldn’t have helped.

“Careful!” Elodie cried, starting forward.

Genevieve hastily corrected herself and then shot her a stern look. “I can do this. You know I can.”

“Then why are you doing it now?”

“I already told you.” She shifted the books and sighed. They were talking in a circle and she never like that. “I’m simply… nervous. I don’t know how well I presented at the garden fete, and I don’t wish to disappoint. I’m a duchess. I must impress.”

That had Elodie shaking her head. “I don’t think that is something you need worry yourself about when you have a duke for a spouse. Everyone should be hoping and worrying about impressing you.”

“If I make a foolish mistake…”

“Then they will think it was on purpose and that you are terribly clever, quite ostentatious, and then they will all follow in your tracks,” Elodie reassured her. She tilted her head. “You don’t get this nervous when you are in London.”

No, I simply hide it better there.

“I don’t usually have the opportunity to hang on someone’s arm,” Genevieve corrected her. She turned carefully, keeping her spine straight, and then headed back towards her maid. “Does my walking appear even?”

“Terribly so, yes,” her maid teased her. “Is there anything else you’re worried about this evening for which I might assist you?”

Genevieve hesitated. “I think we should wear the maroon gown. Is that foolish?”

“Not if you’re wearing rubies.”

“Very well. Might you go and air it out?”

“It’s already airing out, along with your dark blue gown should you change your mind,” Elodie reassured her.

Stopping, Genevieve removed the books to stare at her maid. “Do you know me better than I know myself, Elodie?”

“Certainly. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Then perhaps you shall go to the ball in my place.”

“Oh, how lovely that would be! But then I would assuredly embarrass every person here. I have two left feet, after all. Don’t you worry, Your Grace, I’m certain tonight will be wonderful.”

Repeating this over and over in her head, Genevieve bathed and dressed for the evening.

She made it to the mews early as the carriage was still being readied for them.

Using the extra couple of minutes, she pulled out her fan and tried to remember the various rules for them.

They were forever changing, and some parties changed the rules in particular as though it were a form of entertainment.

It was an exhausting practice. Someday, she prayed, no one would care about fans any longer.

“Flirting with me already, my dear?”

Her fan snapped shut. She turned to see Julian walking up to her with an easy grin. Meeting his gaze, Genevieve wasn’t entirely certain what she might see there. They hadn’t talked for the last two days since he’d shut her down while mending his own hand.

She looked down at his gloves. “How are you?”

“Well enough to dance, my dear. You’ll save me a set?”

Though she pursed her lips at his obvious dismissal, Genevieve noted the driver and tiger readying themselves a short distance from them. So she offered a gracious nod. “Certainly, my dear. It is most unfashionable, however, I should note.”

“One is always in fashion when he is married to you.”

She tilted her head. “So you’re always fashionable?”

“It would seem that way,” Julian grinned.

“Then you should probably tell the rest of the country so they know better,” she muttered as the carriage door swung open. Turning her back on her husband didn’t help with the bundle of nerves now growing stronger inside her stomach. She could feel him looking at her. Watching her. Studying her.

Probably wondering if I am failing. Judging me for not acting sweet enough or dim enough for his household.

Reaching the carriage, Genevieve paused and turned her head back slightly after turning down the attendant ready to assist her. “Husband?”

No one can dare believe otherwise when I do something like this. Lord, I need strength to get through this.

“Yes, my dear?”

“You promised to wait on me hand and foot because you cared for me so.” She put out her hand for him, her cheeks flushing as she wondered how everyone might interpret her daring remarks. “Don’t you recall?”

The speed at which Julian arrived at her side surprised even her. She had to hold back a gasp when his hand enveloped hers. They paused to look at once another. Then he started to grin, tightening his grasp on her even as he offered a courtly bow.

“May the Lord strike me down should I dare forget again,” he told her.

“I’d rather He didn’t, or I would have to climb inside all on my own,” she responded neatly before stepping her way into the carriage.

As her husband followed, she could hear him chuckling. The two of them situated themselves as the door closed beside them. A second later, they were rolling down the path.

Julian watched her, his knees nearly knocking into her own if they weren’t more careful. “How clever you are. You astound me, Genevieve.”

Ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine when he said her name, she forced herself to sit higher. Her chin lifted. “I am by no means perfect but I am not a fool either.”

“No,” he agreed, “You are not. I do believe you should have more faith in yourself after that little gamble. Tonight will be easier than the gardens, I mark you. It will be over before you know it and all your fan fluttering will be forgotten––or remembered in the best way possible.”

“Now that is a gamble,” she huffed. “I most likely won’t know more than one or two souls in attendance.”

Julian shifted his hat from one knee to the other as he said, “You’ll know a minimum of two. Lady Penbury is Lady Elena’s dearest friend, I hear, so you’ll be able to see her again.”

A tight smile graced Genevieve’s lip. “That will not be the case as Lady Elena is currently indisposed. She wrote me an apology this morning that she will not be in attendance as she had originally planned.”

“Ah, well. All the better for you to make new friends,” Julian reasoned.

Although she wanted to believe him, she wasn’t entirely confident she could.

There were at least five mistakes she had made at the garden party that she didn’t wish to replicate again.

Besides, an afternoon affair required less poise and prominence compared to a ball.

Doubts rattled about in her head along the way until at last they arrived at Penbury Hall.

They had just finished the receiving line when her concerns were confirmed. Stopping in the entryway of the ball, Genevieve tightened her lips.

“See?” Julian prompted. “Nothing has happened.”

“Except it has. People are looking at us.”

He fixed his hat to a jaunty angle. “Only because we look so perfect.”

“No,” Genevieve reasoned in irritation. Her cheeks heated up. “Because I am overdressed. I came prepared for a ball like those in London, where everyone has access to seamstresses and fabric from Paris. They don’t have that out in the country, I realize now. I’m overdressed. It’s mortifying.”

While she was speaking, she noted at least three parties of ladies glanced over at them. Their eyes would skim over Julian with interest before turning to her, only to flash and hide their lips behind fans.

Surely an appearance is all that is needed from me. I could just turn around and take my leave. No one would notice. No one would care.

“No one is dressed as neatly as us because there are no other dukes or duchesses in attendance,” Julian reassured her as only a dense man could do.

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him.

It took effort, weakening her against his pull for them to start walking around the room.

“You look just splendid tonight, and I think you’ll have a lovely time. ”

It might have been said with good intentions, but Genevieve had a hard time comprehending that. Still, she tried.

Once the two of them had completed a stroll around the room, Julian brought them to one small party where he introduced her two several country gentlemen he had known at one time or another. It appeared he knew nearly everyone in this room.

“See?” Julian whispered in her ear a very long hour later. “It’s going marvelously.” She only raised an eyebrow. “Would some punch put you at ease? Sherry?”

Hesitating, Genevieve glanced around the group that was shifting about again. “Punch, if they have it. Please.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before excusing himself.

It was unfortunate as the group continued to shift. All three of the women had dance partners for the next set, so they soon took their leave. One of their mothers, the vicar’s wife, joined the conversation alongside her husband, and half the gentlemen also disappeared.

There were too many new faces for her to remember which ones she had been introduced to. And as they started speaking about a recent flood in the area, Genevieve could only nod along without anything to say. Her eyes flitted about in search of Julian, but he had been swallowed by the crowd.

What if he disappeared? I’ll wring his neck if he’s not back soon.

“I couldn’t agree more: it’s indeed a dull conversation that is more likely to make me fall asleep standing up than actually participate,” came a low voice at her other side.

Genevieve tightened her grip on her fan.

Beside her stood a young man, perhaps a few years younger than herself, standing at ease with a casual smile and partially filled glass of sherry.

His dusty brown hair curled and fell neatly into his eyes, almost making him look older.

But not quite. She could see the youth and brightness in his gaze.

“That’s not particularly kind,” she scolded carefully to him, wondering if they had been introduced.

“Mr. Eston Kantbury, at your service,” he said with a slight nod as though he read her mind.

His gaze shifted away to nod to the vicar.

“He introduced us not five minutes ago. I’m the current heir to Lord Penbury, and came to visit for the house party.

It appears I am not the only one to miss London? ” He added with a raised eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed. “Mr. Kantbury, you shouldn’t make such assumptions.” He didn’t shift. Sighing, she leaned in slightly and gave in. “But you are correct.”

Chuckling, he whispered his response while keeping a careful eye on the other six members of their circle.

None of them, beyond the vicar and his wife, appeared at all familiar to her.

“The fresh air is certainly worth it on occasion. But the conversation be left wanting. The most gossip you’ll hear tonight is how Mr. Traybeard fell asleep in the chicken coop. ”

Genevieve’s lips twitched. “That’s a little amusing.”

“More so when you consider he doesn’t have his own chicken coop,” the young man added.

His smile widened when she let out a stifled giggle.

When she raised up her fan to hide her face, he offered an appraising nod.

“I wish fans were acceptable for gentlemen. But I suppose if they were, I’d often be swinging one at my fellows. ”

“Like a rapier?”

“I was thinking more of a dagger, but yes. Every ball, country or no, would surely descend into madness,” he added with a snicker.

Finally feeling at ease that evening, Genevieve let out an honest laugh. The two of them separated slightly from their group as to not disturb the conversation. But the friendly nature of the younger man lent her the confidence she needed to ignore the looks of the crowd.

Much more of this, and she might even enjoy herself.