In response to that, Celestine offered the Duke a flat look which he responded to with a smirk. This told her that he was not offended by her comment, which wasn’t at all surprising.
It was, however, a little frustrating. Celestine could not say why exactly she was so determined to get under the Duke’s skin. Just that she wanted to do so. Since the announcement of their fake engagement, the Duke had been nothing but gracious and jovial and charming to a point of absurdity. He never rose to anger. He never snapped or put Celestine in her place. He was a darn gentleman!
And it is all a lie. Or I think it is. Is that why I constantly test him? As if I need to prove it so that I know what is real and what is false?
These thoughts swirled in her mind, Celestine became momentarily distracted, and as she had feared, she forgot what she was doing. Her feet caught her gown, her eyes turned wide as her balance left her, and she cried out as she prepared to crash to the floor…
“No, you don’t,” the Duke said, his grip on her waist strong and precise and easily able to keep her on her feet. He pulled her in close and flashed his eyes as she found her balance. “I told you that you could trust me.”
“I…” Celestine was about to respond with a typical sharp comment, but she caught her tongue at the last minute. “Thank you,” she said.
“That must have been difficult for you.”
“You have no idea,” she fired back, that time with a smirk of her own.
It was a waltz that the ‘happily’ engaged couple were engaged in. They were one pair of twenty on the dance floor, and they moved together in such perfect harmony that one might have guessed they had done this a dozen times before. It certainly felt like it.
Beyond the dance floor were scores of lords and ladies spread across the grand hall. Most of them paid the dancing couples no mind, all happy to chatter and laugh among themselves, and drink, and flirt, and socialize as was the point of these events. But there was a healthy smattering who stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching closely as if waiting for their chance to judge.
“I never took you for a dancer,” the Duke said as the two moved effortlessly in time to the music.
“And why is that?”
“I might have thought that while others danced, you would stand in the corner and sulk and scowl.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“Even if it was, I am quickly being dissuaded of the fact.” He pumped his eyebrows and then threw his head back and laughed as if at a joke.
She frowned at the strange action… and then her face dropped in realization. Celestine glanced toward the watching crowd, and she knew that his fake laughter was for them. Since the moment the two arrived at the Ball, they had been the center of attention as most might have heard about their engagement but tonight they were seeing it with their own two eyes.
Despite herself, Celestine felt a pang of disappointment. Just when she thought that she and the Duke were speaking candidly, he would remind her that it was all for show.
Again, she wondered who he really was. Would she ever meet him? And why did she even care?
“There we are…” Slowly, the music slowed, as did their feet to its rhythm. The Duke held her close, their faces inches apart, and she wondered if he would ever let her go. “I would call that a success.”
He released her suddenly and Celestine gasped and lurched. She had been so comfortable in his arms that it felt wrong to be suddenly free from them.
No… that is not… do not be silly, Celestine.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
“I suppose so,” she said with a forced sigh as if the idea of spending more time with him was painful. Secretly, and she hated to admit this, spending time with the Duke was nowhere near as awful as she liked to pretend.
He led her back through the crowd to where Celestine’s mother stood waiting. Unlike the first few times that she had spoken with the Duke, Celestine’s mother was now the picture of perfect poise.
“Your Grace!” She swept toward them, all smiles and rosy cheeks. “I had no idea you were such a wonderful dancer.”
“I surprise even myself,” the Duke said as he unlinked his arm from Celestine. “Now, if you two fine ladies will excuse me, I must hunt down a friend of mine.” He took Celestine’s hand and brought it to his lips. It was done purposefully, sure that those nearby watched and saw, but Celestine still felt a ripple burst across her skin and through her body at his touch.
“I cannot believe how wrong I was about him,” her mother said as they watched the Duke walk away. “He is a true gentleman.”
“Yes…” Celestine rubbed her hand where he had kissed it. “I suppose he is.”
“Lady Fairbrook! Miss Celestine Hargrave…” From the crowd appeared Lord Grundon. His voice was pitched high but there was no emotion on his face whatsoever. Behind his eyes, especially, not so much as a smile. “I was hoping to see you both again.”
“Lord Grundon.” Her mother offered a short curtsey. “It is always a pleasure.”
