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The Duke who Chose her

Page 42

by Maybel Bardot

Chapter Twenty-Four

"If you will permit me to claim the remainder of this set, Lord Ashford," George's deep voice cut smoothly through the melody as he stepped directly between them.

Nathaniel paused, his face betraying not the slightest hint of offense as he met George's stern gaze. Nathaniel bowed deeply to George. "Of course, Your Grace. I would never dream of monopolizing Her Grace's company when you wish to claim her hand. Your Grace, it was an absolute pleasure."

Helena curtsied mechanically, her fingers trembling slightly as she forced her eyes away from George's burning glare. "The pleasure was entirely mine, Lord Ashford."

George's eyes were pinned squarely upon Helena, dark with turbulent fury that made the air difficult to breathe. He offered his hand for the next turn of the dance, his fingers warm and broad, closing over her gloved hand with a firm grip.

"You should not have accepted," George stated flatly as the music carried them forward into the sweeping line.

Helena's head dipped slightly as she adjusted her steps to match his commanding stride. "Why?"

"You know why," George replied without a moment's pause, his jaw tightening so hard the muscle in his cheek twitched.

Helena met his unblinking stare, her eyes wide with hurt as they turned together beneath the chandelier. "No, Your Grace. I do not."

"Then allow me to enlighten you," George said, his voice dropping an octave. "Accepting the hand of a young, eligible gentleman the moment my back is turned is hardly the behavior expected of the Duchess of Cavendish. You were placed under the scrutiny of every matron in this room the moment we crossed the threshold, yet you choose to engage in a spirited display in the very center of the hall."

Helena felt a sharp sting in her chest, but she forced herself to maintain her graceful posture.

"Am I not allowed to dance with another, as society has permitted, Your Grace? To speak to anyone else?" Helena asked softly, her voice steady despite the rising turmoil within her heart. "Lord Ashford approached Arabella's seating area with the utmost respect. He was polite, proper, and sought only a single set. Would you have had me deliver an unprovoked insult by refusing him without a valid reason?"

"A married woman of your standing requires no excuse beyond her own inclination to decline a dance," George countered sharply, his fingers tightening slightly against hers as they stepped back into their respective lines. "Society already harbors endless suspicions regarding the swiftness and nature of our union."

"Which is precisely why my behavior was entirely appropriate, Your Grace," Helena pointed out gently, stepping forward once more as the music called for the partners to meet. "Society already knows I am yours. Society knows I carry your name and reside beneath your roof. If I were to sit in a corner, refusing every gentleman who offers a courteous greeting as though I feared my own shadow, people will only become more suspicious and skeptical of our marriage. They will conclude that I am kept locked away in a gilded cage, forbidden from enjoying the simplest pleasures of a gathering."

George stared down at her, his eyes burning.

"No gentleman asks a newlywed duchess to dance without other intentions, especially when that Duchess is mine," George growled in a tone that vibrated through her very frame.

Mine. Hearing him claim her with such raw possessiveness sent a flutter straight through her, making her pulse race wildly.

Helena searched his face, her eyes shimmering with wounded disbelief that cut through her. She felt the heavy weight of his distrust as though he considered her a simple, foolish girl who could be easily led astray by a few flattering phrases.

"Do you truly hold such a meager opinion of my intellect, Your Grace?" Helena asked, her voice dipping as George's dark brows drew together in a crease. "Do you truly believe that I am so utterly lacking in discernment that I cannot distinguish between common politeness and improper design?"

George hesitated, his hand remaining resting against her back. "He had intentions."

"Perhaps, Your Grace," Helena conceded but refused to shrink beneath his towering presence. "But I am well capable of determining whether a gentleman's intentions are improper."

George's face hardened, his fury refusing to yield an inch even as he saw the genuine pain reflected in her gaze. "You are being naïve."

Naïve? Me? Of all things? Helena felt the color drain from her face, a cold ache spreading through her bones. She was not a foolish child to be patronized or dismissed as ignorant of the world's darker motives. To have her judgment dismissed so callously as mere naïveté wounded her far more than she cared to admit.

"I am many things, Your Grace, but naïve is not one of them," Helena said, her voice carrying a weight that seemed to echo louder than the orchestra's brass instruments. "I accepted Lord Ashford's hand because he spoke to me as an equal. He asked me of my comfort, of my thoughts, and of Oliver's wellbeing. He did not treat me as a fragile piece of porcelain to be locked in a cabinet, nor did he treat me as a possession to be guarded with suspicion."

George froze, eyes widening slightly as her words struck him. Uncomfortable silence settled between them, the dance continuing while they remained locked in a private, agonizing universe of their own making.

"I have striven every single day to fulfil my obligations to you and to this family with dignity, Your Grace," Helena continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I have accepted your rules, I have respected your boundaries, and I have stood by your side through every trial without complaint. But if you truly believe me so foolish that I cannot engage in a simple conversation without compromising my honor or yours, then you have misunderstood my character entirely."

George stared at her; the blinding anger in his eyes began to fade. He looked down at her slender hand resting in his and the dignified posture that refused to stoop to pettiness. In a bid to protect her from the gazes of the ton, he had failed her.

The music reached its final crescendo, the violins bringing the country dance to a harmonious close. Around them, the other couples bowed and curtsied, breaking into light applause as the set dissolved.

"And if I must add, Your Grace, if you truly wanted me by your side all night, you would have asked me for a dance from the start."

Helena performed her final curtsy before she drew herself up to her full height once more.