Page 20 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)
CHAPTER 20
“ D id you see how he looked at her during their waltz?” A breathy voice carried from behind a nearby potted palm. “I would give anything to have a duke gaze at me that way.”
Alice struggled to keep her expression neutral as she and Joanna moved past the gossiping debutantes, though her friend’s grip on her arm tightened in silent support.
“Well, you do seem remarkably well-suited,” Joanna noted once they’d reached a quiet corner. “Even Lady Petersham commented on how you and His Grace complement each other.”
“Did she?” Alice sipped her punch to hide her discomfort.
If only they knew the truth—that this supposedly perfect match is nothing but a carefully choreographed dance of obligations and unspoken desires.
“The Duchess of Rutland was just telling me,” Joanna continued, “that she’d never seen a more elegant match. ‘The Duke needs someone with both beauty and a backbone,’ she declared during her morning call yesterday. Even the Dowager Countess of Merriweather—who finds fault with everyone—said that you’d handled your new position with remarkable grace.”
Alice opened her mouth to respond when she caught snippets of other conversations.
“… such presence, the new Duchess…”
“… couldn’t have chosen better if he’d searched for years…”
The words should have pleased her, but each compliment felt like another link in a chain of expectations she wasn’t sure she could meet.
“Miss Gracewood is positively green with envy.” Joanna nodded toward a cluster of young ladies, where a petite brunette was glaring daggers in their direction. “She had rather set her cap at His Grace before your marriage.”
“Along with half the young ladies of the ton, I imagine.”
“Oh, more than half.” Joanna’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Though none of them ever managed to inspire such possessive displays on the dance floor. Really, Alice, the way he held you—I am surprised Lady Rothbury didn’t call for her smelling salts.”
Alice felt heat creep up her neck. “We were perfectly proper.”
“Proper?” Joanna snorted. “My dear, I’ve seen less heated exchanges in French novels. The two of you practically set the ballroom ablaze.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
But Alice couldn’t quite suppress the memory of Dorian’s touch, the way his voice had dropped to that dangerous purr that made her skin tingle.
“Am I?” Joanna leaned closer. “Then perhaps you’d care to explain why Lady Bancroft just remarked that you and His Grace are the very picture of connubial bliss?”
“They say he’s quite transformed,” one young lady whispered to another as they passed. “My cousin swears that he hasn’t visited a gaming hall since the wedding.”
“Well, my aunt heard from Lady Jersey that he’s utterly besotted,” her companion replied. “Apparently, he glowers at any gentleman who dares approach Her Grace at social gatherings.”
“How romantic! Though one wonders what changed his mind about marriage so suddenly…”
“Haven’t you heard? They were discovered in quite a compromising position.”
Before Alice could hurry away from the wagging tongues, a burst of feminine laughter drew her attention to the opposite side of the room.
Thomas stood with Evelyn near the refreshments table, both of them smiling as though they were sharing a private joke. Evelyn laughed at something he said, her hand resting naturally on his arm as she leaned closer.
The gesture was small but spoke volumes about their growing intimacy.
Thomas’s entire demeanor softened when he looked at her. Gone was the rakish smirk, replaced by a genuine smile that reminded Alice of their father in his better days.
When Evelyn pointed to something across the room, Thomas put his hand over hers, a casual gesture of possession and protection that made her beam up at him.
“They do make a charming couple,” Joanna commented softly, following Alice’s gaze.
“Yes.” Alice swallowed past the lump in her throat. “They do.”
“Alice…” Joanna’s voice held a note of concern.
“I am happy for them,” Alice said quickly. “Truly. Thomas has found exactly what he needed in Evelyn.”
“And what about what you need?”
The question hung between them as Alice watched her brother lean down to whisper something that made his fiancée blush prettily. He looked so free, while she…
She remembered how she’d schemed and plotted to secure this match, imagining only the practical advantages it would offer. She’d never expected Thomas to find love in the process. Yet, here he was, gazing at Evelyn as though she hung the moon, while Alice’s carefully orchestrated marriage felt like an elaborate charade.
She had wanted security for her family, yes, but watching Thomas and Evelyn together sparked a yearning she’d been trying to ignore.
Her brother had somehow stumbled into genuine affection within the confines of Society’s expectations, while she remained caught between duty and desire, never quite sure which of her husband’s kisses were real and which were merely for show.
“Miss Fairweather was just telling me how romantic it is…” A shrill voice carried from nearby. “… the way His Grace swept in to save Her Grace’s reputation. It sounds like something from a novel!”
“Though one does wonder,” another voice added with practiced innocence, “whether he would have offered for her otherwise. The Duke was notoriously opposed to marriage before their… encounter on the terrace.”
Alice’s fingers tightened around her glass.
They aren’t wrong, are they? Were it not for that moment of indiscretion, Dorian would never have married me.
“Pay them no mind,” Joanna murmured. “They’re simply jealous that you captured the most eligible duke in England.”
“Captured.” Alice let out a hollow laugh. “Is that what I did?”
“Alice! Joanna!” Evelyn’s face glowed with happiness as she joined them, practically floating across the floor in her pale blue silk gown. “Isn’t it a magnificent ball? Though not nearly as wonderful as your wedding breakfast, of course.”
“You are very kind,” Alice managed, forcing a smile.
“Oh, but I must tell you—Thomas has been absolutely perfect.” Evelyn clasped her hands together in delight. “Just this morning, he accompanied me to the conservatory to sketch the new orchids. Can you imagine? And he was so attentive, asking all sorts of questions about the different species.”
Joanna caught Alice’s eye with a barely suppressed smile. “How botanical of him.”
“I know it’s terribly forward to say so,” Evelyn continued, her voice dropping to an excited whisper, “but I can only hope that Thomas and I will be as blissfully happy as you and His Grace. The way he looks at you, Alice… it’s exactly what I’ve always dreamed of.”
Alice felt the punch turn sour in her gut. “Evelyn?—”
“There you are, my love.” Thomas appeared, offering Evelyn his arm with a flourish. “They’re beginning a country dance. Might I claim my betrothed for a set?”
“Of course.” Evelyn’s entire face lit up. “Though I was just telling your sister how fortunate I am to be marrying into such a romantic family.”
“Romantic?” Thomas grinned. “I suppose His Grace has set quite a standard, huh?” He winked at Alice. “Though I shall certainly do my best.”
As Thomas led a beaming Evelyn to the dance floor, Alice found herself wondering how her carefully arranged match for her brother had somehow transformed into everything she had secretly wanted for herself.
“More punch?” Joanna offered quietly.
“Something stronger, I think.”
“Your Grace.” A deep voice halted their retreat. “Might I be bold enough to request the next dance?”
Alice turned to find Lord Somerby studying her with undisguised admiration, his aristocratic features arranged in a charming smile. Next to him, Lord Cavendish was already bowing over Joanna’s hand.
“I would be honored, my lord,” Alice replied, though she couldn’t quite say why she accepted his request.
Perhaps it was the punch or the lingering sting of watching Thomas’s easy happiness.
“The honor is mine, Your Grace.”
Lord Somerby’s blue eyes—a shade lighter than Dorian’s, she noted absently—sparkled with genuine warmth as he offered her his arm.
As they took their places on the dance floor, Alice caught a glimpse of Dorian across the room, deep in conversation with Lord Drakeley. For a moment, she thought she saw his head turn in her direction, but the dance began before she could be certain.
Lord Somerby proved to be an accomplished dancer and pleasant conversationalist, discussing everything from the latest theatrical performance to the renovation of his estate in Bath. It should have been enjoyable—would have been, perhaps, if she couldn’t feel the ghost of other hands on her waist, the echo of a deeper voice in her ear.
When the music ended, she curtsied with perfect grace, accepted his thanks with a duchess’s poise, and tried to ignore the hollow ache beneath her ribs that whispered that this was all she could expect from her marriage—a series of perfectly proper dances with partners who meant nothing at all.
As she made her way back to Joanna, Alice wondered if perhaps she wasn’t the only one pretending tonight. After all, the ton seemed to believe in their perfect match.
She only wished she could believe it, too.