Salthouse turned pale, paper white. The change occurred so suddenly that Daphne almost expected his gaunt body to faint.
“I apologize, Your Grace. I thought you would think of my opinions as a means of solidarity among men. After all, there are many women who hunt for men’s fortune like a sport.”
Lady Salthouse’s face had turned red, with anger or humiliation, Daphne could not tell.
“That is not how one speaks of my Duchess,” Adrian said, close and calm. “You will learn discretion, one way or another. I cansee to it that bankers ask awkward questions, that partners ‘discover’ inconvenient balances, that your comfortable life becomes a matter of tedious, ruinous scrutiny. I prefer manners; I prefer men who know theirs. But I will not hesitate to remove your comforts if you persist. Do you hear me, Salthouse?”
This time, the older lord looked like he would agree to anything Adrian would say. He nodded profusely, eyes wide with fear.
“You may be excused,” Adrian ordered.
Daphne could not help but gape at her husband.
Who is he, really, that he could simply call out an order?
The little cluster quickly dispersed at that command, too. He watched them dismissively, with head held high. She could have quickly attributed it to arrogance, but no, it could not be that. This man knew what he was about. He was simply saying and taking things as they were.
The Duke turned to her, eyes burning intensely. She could not believe how she could see protectiveness there. For her? For the woman he could not decide what to do with?
As before, destiny did not seem too eager to leave her with time to think. The music began, strains of a waltz quickly rising and filling the ballroom.
“May I have this dance, Duchess?” Adrian asked, offering his hand, even though his jaw was still clenched and his eyes were still blazing with the remnants of his fury.
She nodded, gently placing her gloved hand in his. There was no reason to say no. For one, they were a united front now. Two, her body always turned toward him.
The dance was supposed to be like any other she had ever been part of. However, the moment Adrian guided her onto the floor, she knew it would not be.
His amber eyes were intent on her face, and she watched him back as a response, a blend of acquiescence and challenge. That was how confused he made her feel.
Their dance quickly turned into something else, perhaps a conversation or a melding of souls. All she knew for certain was that it made her chest hurt. She could barely breathe, and yet she was also aware of how they were drawing attention.
Of course, a man like him would be precise and powerful. He took it onto the ballroom floor. But what surprised her was the way their movements were synchronized, as if their bodies were attuned to each other. As if they had been doing this for long. She could only imagine that they looked like they were truly fragments of a whole who were magically being reunited on the dance floor.
“You didn’t have to make a scene, Your Grace,” she murmured, as the music entered into its more serene parts.
“What do you mean? I did not make a scene. If anything I make every attempt to avoid making spectacles, given the opportunity.”
He was right about that, and yet, he had let himself be swayed by an older lord who had nothing better to say or do.
“You know what I mean. Salthouse is nothing more than a grumpy man,” she said.
She was half-lying here. Salthouse might be a cranky man, but he was one who thetonrespected. That was how hypocritical their circles could be. They would side with a man who judged others while not looking at the problem within his own estate.
“Ah, so you were referring to him,” he murmured, although it was clear that he knew what she was saying all along. “But I merely want it to be clear that nobody may to speak to you like that. And I fear his taunts would not have ebbed until we nipped them in the bud.”
“We?” she echoed, afraid of how the word made her pleased.
“Yes. We. All anyone could see now are the two of us dancing as one. Do you not feel it?” he asked.
Of course, she could, but she still stung from his rejection. Had he simply conveniently forgotten about that night?
No. Her husband was playing a game, and even though she might seem very innocent—and she could be for the most part—she could play the game, too.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
They did a little turn, then, still moving easily with the music even as they held a full conversation.
“You do.”
