Amelia was no longer a part of that scene. She was no longer among the hopeful women, wanting to be noticed, only to linger in the background.
Instead, she stood at the top of the grand staircase, and bit back a shiver when gazes began to flicker up to her.
“Presenting Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Blackthorn,” the announcer called out, and then every eye was turned to them.
A hush fell over the room, and Amelia realized the guests were not so much as looking at the duke but ather. The new Duchess of Blackthorn. Her breath caught in her throat as Graham tugged her to descend down the stairs, and Amelia had the disconcerting feeling of descending into a snake pit.
***
Graham had never been one to show off at a ball. Usually, he opted to attend and linger in the back or with Owen, but as a married man now,he was expected to walk around with his wife.
Gently, he guided her into a turn around the room, and tightened his hand into a fist at his side when the usual murmurs of speculation began.
“I heard she tricked him,” one lady whispered to her male counterpart. “I am surprised she even has the courage to show her face today.”
Graham bit his tongue, resisting the urge to snap at them, to meet their passive aggressiveness with something blunter and more destructive. Amelia tensed beside him, yet he observed her strained, brittle smile and longed to extricate her from the tumult.
“Shall we leave?” he asked quietly.
“We must continue on,” she insisted. “I shall not bring you shame by not being able to endure a few whispers. It is… not a rare occurrence, anyhow.”
“It is not shame, nor defeat,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “They cannot speak of you like this and expect yourself to endure it.”
“But I must.”
Her jaw tightened and Graham realized, his footsteps faltering, that she blamed herself for it all. Meanwhile he blamed himself. With terror, he realized how he had not assured her otherwise that she was not to blame, that he did not believe the rumors about being deceived into marriage. He had not avoided answering her due to a lack of belief but for he felt so guilty that words failed him, as they did now.
“It is remarkable, is it not?” one lady exclaimed to her friend. “The beastly duke and the wallflower. One wonders what they find to discuss.”
“Do you not know? They do not speak.”
“Heavens, whatdothey do? For surely Her Grace cannot spend her hours gazing at him. Who would want to?”
They both erupted into giggles behind their fans, and Amelia glanced at Graham. He stared straight ahead. Five years had been too long to feel any pinch of his scar anymore but he knew it was there even if he could try to forget it at times. The ton would never let him forget.
“Lady Dalton,” Amelia responded, speaking up to the first woman. “I shall have you know that His Grace and I speak at length aboutfarmore intelligent things than you seem to possess in your vocabulary.”
Graham fought to keep his composure, as stunned as he was at her brazen yet oddly graceful retort. Lady Dalton gaped at Amelia, but Amelia only drew Graham further on.
“I was not sure how a wallflower could ever be a duchess but I find myself rather impressed,” one man commented, and Graham fought not to growl in some awful possessiveness of his wife. “Miss Hawthorne holdsherself well in such a role.”
“It is Duchess of Blackthorn,” Graham could not stop himself from biting out. “You shall address my wife correctly or not at all.”
The man’s mouth moved silently, only to nod quickly. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Graham hurried Amelia on past the prying eyes, yet found a small smile on her lips. For her worries in the carriage, the validation must have felt rather nice.Did I assure her enough? Graham wondered, mentally chiding himself over having those foolish worries.
He was only stopped when Percival showed his face, appearing from the crowd with a wide, charming smile.
His arms were outstretched as he came towards them, as if planning to embrace them. “Cousin!” he called out. “Heavens, look at you! You are… well, I must admit you are scowling as ever. Does marriage life not suit you? I am jesting, of course.”
Graham searched for the threat in his cousin’s words but found only a strangely jovial teasing.
Percival turned his focus to Amelia. “And you, Duchess of Blackthorn, youareglowing! Married life seems to suit you. My congratulations to you both. Your Grace, I do hope we can have a wonderful relationship going forward. I realise I may not have made the best impression at the Smith ball.”
“Nonsense,” Amelia urged. “You were perfectly fine.”
Graham fought the urge to roll his eyes but he was the most relaxed around his cousin than he could ever remember. “Percival, how are you faring?”
