“It will not be that unbearable,” he assured. “You know what you are doing.”
Anne’s gaze lingered on him slightly longer than necessary before she answered, “You are either underestimating society or overestimating me.”
“I am very rarely wrong about society.”
“That sounds like something someone says immediately before being proven wrong.”
“Even if that is true, I am rarely wrong about you, and I have full confidence in you.”
He was trying to encourage her, but it was also true. She was more than capable of hosting, as long as she trusted herself. Once she had hosted her first event, he knew that she would enjoy herself, with the caveat that that night had to be perfect. Fortunately, she had planned it to within an inch of its life.
Eventually, the guests arrived, and gradually, the halls filled with music and carefully curated conversations. Chandeliers cast warm light over the polished floors, and the sound of a string quartet drifted through open doors leading to adjoining rooms where guests gathered in smaller clusters.
Dorian offered his arm, and she took it without hesitation. The touch sent a shiver through him.
“You look as though you are bracing for battle,” he murmured as they moved into the ballroom.
“I am bracing for conversation,” she replied.
“Which is the same thing in some circles.”
They were barely ten minutes into the event when they were intercepted. Tristan was in attendance, dressed impeccably and already smiling as though he had been waiting specifically for this moment.
Dorian considered him a friend, but there were moments when he found him rather irritating.
“Dorian,” Tristan greeted, then glanced at Anne. “And Your Grace. What a beautiful night you have arranged.”
“Good evening, Lord Harrow.”
“Such formality,” Tristan sighed. “You may call me by my name, Your Grace. All of my friends do.”
“Are we friends?” Anne asked.
To Dorian’s surprise, she sounded almost belligerent.
“Why, of course we are. I would rather that than call you my friend’s wife. It is easier. Do you not agree?”
“I suppose so, yes.” She nodded.
Dorian placed a hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her forward before Tristan could speak again. His friend had clearly arrived in one of his moods, and Dorian did not want to face it immediately.
“You certainly have a strange taste in friends,” Anne commented.
“I do,” he admitted. “I would not usually befriend men like him, but… well, he was good to me when I lost my sister. I cannot be cruel to someone who showed me such kindness.”
She did not answer, but she did not move away either.
Dorian was soon pulled into a discussion with investors and acquaintances who treated him as both a curiosity and an authority, while Anne drifted toward some ladies who no doubt wished to ask her about their marriage.
He told himself it was a relief to be among gentlemen, but it did not feel like it.
* * *
Anne wanted to enjoy her evening, but she was finding it difficult.
It was pleasant enough, but it was exhausting having to repeat the same story, especially since it was untrue. She had read about people who fell in love the moment they looked at one another, but she had never believed in it, and she doubted that anyone believed her either, so it was most bizarre that she had to say it to begin with.
The doors to the terrace stood open, beyond which hung crescent-shaped lanterns. The sight was too inviting for her to ignore any further. She stepped outside, grateful for the respite.
