She knew her mother was furious and also feeling helpless at not having to say anything.
The Dowager Countess might be her daughter’s primary critic, but she would not do that within earshot of the rich and titled.
Adrian knew that the ballroom affair was for mere show. However, there was that niggling part of him that wanted it to be real. He did not have the right, but he could not help the way his body positioned toward her location, the way his eyes would constantly scan for his face.
He reasoned that there was no need to stop these compulsions. His manner of conduct would be what he wanted the people to see, anyway. He wanted them to see that he adored his wife, even as people gossiped about the possible nefarious reason they married in the first place.
But with Caleb?
His friend, the Marquess of Amberwell, knew him too much. It would be harder to balance his act around him.
“You have not taken your eyes off your wife since you’ve arrived,” Caleb commented smugly. “I can no longer account for how often you left her home alone before you came here this evening. It simply does not make sense, my friend.”
“Tonight, I am merely trying to ensure she is enjoying herself and that nobody has been bothering her,” he replied, only telling the partial truth.
“Oh, indeed,” Caleb murmured mock-thoughtfully. “Am I supposed to assume that you wear your possessive scowl to ensure she is enjoying herself? Perhaps you are telling me the truth.”
“It is only proper to ensure one’s wife is well-attended,” Adrian explained, keeping his posture and expression straight.
“Ah. Of course,” Caleb agreed with a chuckle. “I am merely observing what you’ve relayed to me as a convenient arrangement. It is quite convenient, indeed, to have such a lovely wife. Easy on the eyes. Still, I am your willing and helpful servant. I shall attend to my duty.”
Adrian whirled to turn to his friend. It was then that he realized that his eyes were again drawn on Daphne for several moments. What Caleb said, however, warranted attention.
“What duty?”
“Oh, you know,” Caleb said, gesturing vaguely with his right hand as he winked. “I intend to ask the fair Duchess for a dance. Someone as exceptionally lovely as she needs proper attention. I must ensure that she is entertained while her husband attends to business.”
Adrian’s hand shot out, grasping Caleb’s shoulder from the back. He knew he was doing it too roughly, and on a friend no less, his fingers digging into the velvet. He did not care. He just knew that his friend’s jest had gone too far.
Caleb shrugged off his arm. This movement angered him even more. He was tempted to push his friend to the floor, but he pulled him roughly to face him, instead.
“Do not test me, Caleb,” he growled.
It had been a while when his voice had taken a low, demanding tone outside of the gambling hells.
His friend faced him, laughing at his reaction but holding his hands up in surrender. His eyes, though, were sharp. It was no longer a jest for him, either, but Adrian could not make himself think about whether the aggression was worth it. He just knew it was.
“Wasn’t it only a convenient arrangement? Tell me the truth now, friend. If it were, you would not mind if I danced with your beautiful bride.”
Adrian had to admit that the thought of even his friend Caleb, someone he trusted with his innermost secrets, dancing with Daphne and holding her waist drove him into pure, agonizing jealousy. He might still try to deny it, but his reactions were revealing what he felt.
No.
No.
Yes.
“I believe you have other concerns, Caleb,” Adrian said, the words holding a thinly veiled warning. “She is not available to dance with anyone else.”
He then turned on his heel abruptly and walked away from his friend. His eyes were on Daphne once more, and there was no hiding it.
Not anymore.
Chapter Thirteen
“Mama!” Marianne’s eight-year-old daughter, Diana, pulled at her dress.
“Diana! What are you doing here? You should be in your bed!” Marianne looked at her daughter in a blend of tenderness, surprise, and horror.
