‘This is wonderful, Hannah. From those first sparks, may perhaps love grow?’
‘I agree it would be a wondrous circumstance! However, I do not feel that Caleb aspires to this. He desires only a convenient arrangement – a Duchess to attend formal occasions with and to support him in carrying out ducal responsibilities. He has neither time nor inclination for love. I am merely an unwanted distraction to him.’
‘Mayhap,’ Clara leaned in. ‘Alternatively, he may discover that love enriches his life and as Duke and Duchess, you are stronger and held in even higher esteem due to your admirable bond.’
Hannah smiled sadly up at her sister, wishing her words could be true.
‘I do not know how to counter the Dowager Duchess. In her presence, my confidence shrivels; she has so diminished me…’
‘Do not allow her!’ Clara gripped at her sister’s hands and forced her to meet her eye.
‘Hannah, you are a talented, kind, and beautiful Duchess. The Duke has chosen you as his wife. Whether or not his mother approves is irrelevant. She may be troublesome, but she will eventually accept that which she cannot change. It is your obligation to remain strong and proud and not permit her aspersions to impact your morale or dent your tenacity.’
Hannah squeezed Clara’s hands in return and looked up at her from tear-filled eyes.
‘Thank you, Clara.’
Clara embraced Hannah with conviction ‘Oh my sweet sister, how I wish things could have been different for you! I have faith, however, that you are capable of coping with this complex predicament. Have faith in your sense of self!’
A tear dropped from Hannah’s cheek onto Clara’s shoulder. Hannah had been unaware of how much she had needed to hear these words of support and buoyancy. She didn’t want to let go of her sister because she knew that on the other side of it, she had to pull down the hatches and once again demonstrate restraint and austere presentation.
‘Are you ready?’ Clara bent low to look into Hannah’s pretty face.
Hannah nodded, just once and the two sisters left the drawing room hand-in-hand to rejoin the mothers.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘How fortunate to have sunshine early this evening!’ Emmeline practically skipped away as the footman helped her down the step of the Barouche Landau.
‘It always seems to shine on the eve of Lady Camden’s annual spring ball!’ Hannah agreed. Whilst still guarded around her mother-in-law, that evening Hannah had a bubble of apprehension in her stomach, excited about the evening ahead. It was well-known in society that the Camden parties were one of the most prestigious and anticipated events in the social calendar.
As they entered the grand hall, Sophia stood in the receiving line with her parents, greeting all the guests as they arrived. She registered Hannah as she stepped into the hall and the two shared a conspiratorial smile. Sophia’s parents greeted the Dowager Duchess with ceremonial solemnity and similarly for Caleb and Emmeline. There was a familiar warmth reserved for Hannah, who was almost a part of their family. They had not seen her since her wedding day the previous week and embraced her fondly, enquiring as to her health.
Moving along the line and on into the ballroom, Hannah felt as though it were her debut all over again – heads turned to look at her, walking alongside the Duke.
Here she was – the new Duchess of Montwood. Everybody in the room was keen to see her, to appraise the new couple together. Also - Hannah felt keenly - to judge whether she met the required standard; if her etiquette was superior and her appearance to the satisfaction of all those evaluating her.
Hannah had chosen a new dress for the occasion and felt every inch a Duchess that evening. Lucy had prepared her hair in the style she wore on her wedding day and applied the same light colour on her cheeks. She had misted herself with jasmine and kept a scented sachet in the pocket of her petticoat. She was as prepared as she could possibly be, yet the weight of the eyes upon her landed heavily, as did the expectations upon her.
The Dowager Duchess turned to look at Hannah almost in warning. Her glare communicated the message ‘Do not besmirch the Montwood dynasty; do not dishonour the family name.’The pressure was immense, and Hannah even felt Caleb stiffen beside her. It intrigued her that a Duke so well-practiced in the hierarchal society could also be feeling the strain of expectation.
Hannah summoned her crowd-pleasing smile and almost cast herself as an actress playing a part, simply to accelerate her through the discomfort of scrutiny. She stood tall, chin high, proud smile and emanating a dazzle of confidence so that people could not talk her down.
As she felt it, she began to believe it and Caleb looked across at her in a way that suggested he could see it too.
‘There is my family!’ Hannah enthused as she saw her mother and father standing with Clara and James. She knew it would be inappropriate to run to them as she wanted to and so retained her self-assured stride, carrying her in their direction.
Hannah greeted them all fondly and they, in turn, greeted the Duke with formalities and smiles.
‘You are yet to meet my sister and her husband, Caleb – may I introduce Lord James and Lady Clara Ashworth. Clara, James – please meet my husband, His Grace the Duke of Montwood.’ Hannah proudly announced. It was the first time she had introduced Caleb as her husband to her family and she blushed as she did so, feeling like an interloper. She looked at Caleb’s face as she said the wordhusbandand noticed he reacted to it – a small, hardly perceptible jerk of his face, though she could not determine whether it was surprise or pleasure with which he received the title.
The new acquaintances exchanged greetings and Caleb remembered James.
‘I do believe we met once, Lord Ashworth – a governmental meeting regarding foreign trade. Were we not seated next to one another?’
‘By goodness, but we were!’ James laughed heartily and turned to Hannah ‘you have a sharp man here! Such observation and impressive memory.’
Hannah smiled as though this asset of Caleb’s somehow translated as a compliment to her. It was a strange sensation; to feel gratification for praise aimed at another person. She pondered at it, but did not permit consternation to sit with her, for it was a truly joyful moment and she wanted to revel in it.
