Page 69 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

Let them watch. There was not a lady in the room more magnificent than his wife and, while the diamonds she wore were stunning, and the gown extraordinary, the whole picture she presented was of understated elegance. A slight murmur of interest and approval rippled round the room.

The duke, at the head of the receiving line, bowed low over Florence’s hand. ‘Lady Blackdown, welcome.’ He shook hands with Graydon, his expression warm. ‘Your wife does you credit, sir,’ he murmured, his gaze lingering on Florence. ‘I am glad to see you here.’

Graydon took a deep breath. He had known that he would not be turned away at the door, because he had received an invitation. But the warmth of that welcome from the duke meant that the past was entirely forgotten. The Ingram name was no longer reviled. He and his family had been welcomed back into the fold. And while much of it was due to his own efforts, one piece of the puzzle at a time, it was Florence, his quiet, thoughtful, intelligent Florence, who had placed the final crowning piece to the whole.

He wanted to show her off, to show everyone that this lovely, clever woman was his. He leaned close to murmur in her ear. ‘May I request the first dance of the evening?’

The delight on her face made his chest swell with hope for their future. The first time he had really dared to hope he had been so focussed on undoing the damage of the past.

‘You may indeed,’ she said softly.

While they waited for the dancing to start, he introduced her to others in the company she had not yet met. People who would have turned their backs on his father now went out of their way to speak to him. Mother would be so happy.

‘That’s a look of triumph on your face if ever I saw one,’ George said when they met at the refreshment table. He’d offered to get the ladies a glass of punch, leaving Florence chatting with the duchess and her oldest daughter, Lady Deirdre, who was coming out this year.

Had he been grinning like a fool? What the hell? He didn’t care. ‘You look as if you lost a shilling and found a groat,’ he teased his old friend. ‘Did you lose at cards again?’

George flicked his fingers dismissively. ‘I shall come about.’

Graydon shook his head. ‘The bank always wins. Playing for pleasure is one thing, but if you want to improve your fortune, you would do better to invest your money. I can help you, if you wish.’

George grinned. ‘I’ll think about it. Meanwhile I promised Mrs Wickhart I would bring her a glass of wine.’

‘Mrs Wickhart? I don’t think I have heard of a lady by that name.’

‘A charming widow with a fortune.’

Graydon looked at him. He really looked at his friend and saw the desperation in his gaze. ‘Are you run off your legs?’

George glanced around. ‘All right, I’ll tell you. Father cut me off completely. But let’s not talk about it here. Meet me at the club tomorrow.’

Feeling sad but not completely surprised at George’s difficulties, he nodded. ‘Tomorrow, then.’

He could not help his feeling of pride as he approached his wife. She shimmered like moonlight on water. Beside her, the duchess in her gold brocade and her daughter in the obligatory white of a debutante looked quite ordinary, though their gowns had likely cost a fortune.

The ladies accepted their glasses with grateful smiles when he returned.

‘Was that young George Redfern I saw you speaking with just now?’ the duchess asked.

‘It was,’ Graydon said.

The duchess frowned disapprovingly. ‘My husband says that young man is headed for ruin. Apparently he is known to frequent the lowest hells.’

‘He is an old friend,’ Graydon said, trying not to sound defensive. ‘I know him to be a man of honour.’ Unfortunately, he was beginning to have similar concerns about George.

Florence glanced at him with an odd expression, a kind of considering look.

‘Well, you have my warning,’ the duchess said with an arch smile. ‘I can do no more. Come along, Deirdre, the dancing will start at any moment and I wish to introduce you to Lady Bailey and her son. He is newly come to Town.’

‘I hope they play a waltz,’ Graydon said. He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and tell her how beautiful she was and how clever. He wanted to make sure everyone knew that she was his.

‘We shall soon find out,’ she said calmly.

Indeed they would. The orchestra on the balcony high above the dance floor was tuning its instruments. And the duke and duchess had taken their places on the floor to open the dance.

The music started, and it was indeed a waltz. After a few minutes, others guests joined the duke and duchess on the dance floor.

Graydon smiled at Florence. ‘Shall we?’