Sterling was steadfastly charming and regal all evening. As strange as it initially felt to her to arrive on his arm, all Alaina’s nerves eventually melted away, and she found it rather enjoyable. It helped that he was consistently attentive and warm in every interaction with her.
And, when they danced, it was like falling into a familiar pattern. Held there in the strong circle of his arms, she remembered what a brilliant dancer she’d found him to be back when he’d courted her. Few things had been more thrilling to eighteen-year-old Alaina than twirling around the floor for all to see as she was held securely by the most eligible young man thetonhad seen in decades. It was oddly reassuring that her memories weren’t entirely blinded by girlish infatuation. The man moved with grace and confidence, imbibing her with the same.
As he guided her through the steps of a waltz—their second dance of the evening—Alaina was flooded with memories she’d buried long ago as a way to protect her wounded heart…and all of it helped her remember why she’d accepted Sterling’s offer of marriage in the first place.
He was blindingly handsome, he had a lively sense of humor, and he was thoughtful. He was also intriguingly complex, seemingly two men in one—one with her and one with the outside world. He could lean in close to whisper an amusing observation that nearly set her to giggling like a girl one minute, then someone would approach them, and he’d slide a mask over his face, stepping easily into the role of one of the most powerful and influential men of the realm. It was fascinating to watch. To the world, he was the Duke of Morton; to her, he was Sterling. It mattered not that she had yet to take him up on his request to use his given name, she’d addressed him informally in her head for a long while. Now, however, she was presented with the man in the flesh and not some abstract idea to which she’d applied all her frustrations and pain.
Despite her best efforts, Alaina experienced a thrill whenever he took her hand and threaded her arm through his, demonstrating his earnest, gentle possessiveness whenever another man spoke to her or asked her to dance. More than once, she caught him watching her with such intensity that it made her shiver. It served to stir up those confusing, exciting flutters in the pit of her stomach, making her knees weaken and a rush of unexpected dampness between her thighs. When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe what he’d said the day before…he certainly looked as if he was starving and only she could slake his hunger.
How many years had she dreamt of being on Sterling’s arm, cutting a swath through Society and sparking envy throughout theton?
How many nights had she woken alone in the dark, tears clogging her throat even before she was fully awake because she knew such dreams were futile?
Now that he’d told her he’d never been unfaithful and even gone so far as to offer her forgiveness if she couldn’t say the same, could she set aside her years of pain and anger to take the offer of peace Sterling offered? To possibly have a future with him?
“Lady Morton!”
Alaina turned from where she stood with a group of other society matrons to find Miss Jocelyn Finchley, the daughter of their hosts, approaching quickly. Her friend’s presence was one of the reasons Alaina had chosen to accept the invitation. If things had gone poorly, then she wanted to be sure she’d have at least one person on her side. They squeezed one another’s hands in a warm greeting. Miss Finchley’s warm chocolate eyes practically danced with excitement.
“Mother was quite overtaken with joy when you indicated the duke would be coming as well. I tried to temper her anticipation without giving away what happened at the last meeting, but the fact that you both came and chose her ball as your first event together nearly required smelling salts!”
Alaina couldn’t help but smile. Mrs. Finchley was known for her dramatic behaviors (so in contrast to her daughter’s reserved nature) but Alaina didn’t doubt her friend’s report. She risked a glance over her shoulder and found Sterling watching her over the crowd. Again.
“So happy to be of service,” Alaina replied.
“I must admit that I was rather shocked when she said she’d received your reply, especially after what happened.” The last was said in a concerned whisper.
Alaina couldn’t blame Miss Finchley for angling for more information—Alaina would likely have done the same thing were the roles reversed. The last time Miss Finchley had seen Sterling, he’d commanded all the Reading Society guests to vacate his home post-haste, and Alaina didn’t doubt that some of them would be relieved to know murder hadn’t taken place. If they only knew…
What had happened instead made Alaina’s heart race just thinking about it.
“So,” Miss Finchley’s voice dipped lower as they removed themselves from the other guests; “I take it things are better after the reading? His Grace didn’t seem all that pleased…”
“We’ve come to an agreement,” Alaina replied. “A tentative truce. A temporary cease-fire.”
She’d replayed his confession in her mind over and over again, held it between her mind’s hands and turned it this way and that, examined it from various angles. She’d concluded that Sterling swearing fidelity to their vows was unnecessary to his cause. In their society, it mattered not that a man remained true to his wife as long as he did his duty to his title and those who depended upon him, and he could demand his right to her bed regardless of what she believed or how she felt. The more she’d pondered it, the more the fact that it was important to him that she knew the rumors of his behavior to be false made her believe strongly that he’d been truthful. And, if he could be honest about that, then didn’t she have the obligation to give this life a chance?
She had yet to frighten him off, he’d remained true to his word, and he’d remained determined in his aim to woo her. If he wasn’t going anywhere, then the least Alaina could do was use his presence to her advantage and finally snap shut the mouths who whispered so cruelly about her marriage—as if they had any more insight into her life than she.
Alaina had already caught a few whispered words poorly disguised by fluttering fans or behind her shoulder when they’d believed she and Sterling had meandered far enough away. As anticipated, Sterling’s return to society had created quite an uproar. And, as Alaina had predicted, some wondered just what she’d done to make him come back to England.
Wouldn’t they be shocked to find out the truth?
“Well, I certainly am glad for it!” Miss Finchley offered her a brilliant smile. It really was a shame the girl didn’t smile more, it made her already pretty features quite stunning. Of course, with a blustering grouch of a father and an overly dramatic, demanding mother, Alaina couldn’t really blame her. A very sheltered young woman of spinster age with no prospects and little freedom did not necessarily have much about which to smile. “At least we know there will be no bloodshed tonight,” she added sotto-voce.
Alaina couldn’t help but laugh, despite how true the statement was. “You’ll have to pass along my regrets to your mother; I could find nowhere to hide my dagger in this gown.”
Chapter Thirteen
The ladies’ unabashedlaughter reached Sterling nearly across the ballroom. Every fiber of his being was attuned to his wife’s location, her every movement. Though he tried to concentrate on the polite conversation around him, it proved a futile exercise. Ever since he first saw her in that gown, a resplendent golden goddess, he could think of nothing other than bringing Alaina home and tasting every inch of her flesh, finally learning once and for all if her nipples were ripe like raspberries, dusky and sensuous, or the pale, innocent pink of a rosebud. More than once, he’d had to turn his mind to tamer paths in order to avoid embarrassing himself in the middle of a ballroom on his first evening back in Society.
It was nearly impossible for him to focus on anything else, though, because every last one of his senses was finely attuned to Alaina. He knew precisely how far away she stood; he was keenly aware of who watched her, who spoke to her, and who asked her to dance. He far preferred having her on his arm, but he couldn’t very well force her to remain there all evening. Things had been going unexpectedly well and it wouldn’t do to mess it all up with a bit of over-possessive behavior.
So, Sterling had to settle for feigning interest in the conversation he’d been dragged into despite his best evasive efforts. All the while, he kept his ears perked for Alaina’s laughter, his nose searched for her intoxicating floral scent, and his arms itched to hold her once more.
“Your father purchased those mines, did he not?” inquired one of the older lords surrounding him.
“He did,” Sterling replied with a nod. “I believe it was shortly after I was born.” The Cornish mines were a fruitful investment sprouting from a gamble the old duke had made. The land had proven dreadfully difficult to mine and had been producing little to no income. After consulting with a few men who knew the area best, his father had decided to purchase the land for a pittance, hired a new foreman who changed the direction of the tunneling, and it was then that the Morton coffers went from full to obscenely overflowing.
