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He rose and slipped the ring over the fourth finger of her left hand, held that hand in both of his, closed his eyes, and kissed the back of it; and then, known only to her, he nipped her knuckles. He offered her his arm, and the watchers fell away as they made their way to the dance floor. Alfred led her into the center, nodded to Bates, who nodded to the orchestra, who began to play. They took their positions as was proper, and on the downbeat, Alfred swept her into a great swirl around the floor. The dress that had looked so odd came to life, its skirt opening and closing with the movements of the dance like petals, revealing a pale-ivory lining, and Felicity looked like a lily as the duke spun her ’round the floor.
“I called upon you today.” Alfred indulged in a great inhalation, and Felicity snuck a sniff of her own.
“How kind of you to leave your card,” she said. “Sadly, I was not receiving.”
“Vixen.”
She attempted to remain impassive, as was proper, but failed and smiled up at him. “The floral tribute was all that was glorious.”
“Marshall recommended posies.”
“Taking courting advice from a stable master?”
“Was it effective?” He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed his in return. “It was.”
“Well, then.”
They swirled down the side of the floor, and all at once she became aware of her surroundings, of the susurrations of gowns and the murmur of voices around the room as innuendo was sown hither and yon. Rather than feel self-consciousness descend upon her like a heavy cloak, she found it was the simplest thing in the world to ignore when her new life held her in his arms.
Alfred, however, able to discern their every comment, snarled at the spectators.
“Alfie! Pay them no mind.” Felicity smiled. “Let us relive your proposal.”
“It was magnificent, was it not?”
“It more than atoned for the first two attempts.”
“Third time is the charm,” he whispered in her ear. “May I say how charming you look in that exquisite gown? But indeed, the gown is a very minor enhancement of your grace. Your Grace.”
They swept down the side of the ballroom where Cecil stood in the company of a petite debutante who gazed upon him in admiration.
“That is Miss Smythe-Watson,” Felicity said. “She has ten thousand a year.”
“Your cousin’s eligibility will increase, should he desire her hand,” Alfred responded, “when it becomes known he is the sole proprietor of Purcell and Sons.”
“But would my uncle’s possessions not fall under the remit of the law?”
“They would, under normal circumstances, which would not generally include O’Mara glamouring a solicitor into conveying all to your cousin.”
“If I never hear of another solicitor…”
Alfred essayed a particularly exuberant turn through a corner, and the candlelight from the chandeliers sparked off the gemstones that adorned the hand resting on his shoulder. “This is not the ring you first presented me with.”
“I am impressed you noticed, as you gave that offering the barest glance.” Alfred’s smile was wry. “I determined that a new token was in order.”
“This is rather more than a token.” The diamonds that circled the band were small but bright, and the four precious gems that marched in a row across the top of the ring were large and varied. The first was rich green, the second a sparkling violet, the third a vibrant yellow, and the last—“I recognize the emerald, but the first three are unknown to me.”
“They are malachite, iris, and nephrite,” Alfred said. “I hope it pleases you.”
“It is unique and stunning,” She smiled up at up him. “The perfect symbol for my new life.”
“Comprised from the best of the old.” He drew back and held her gaze. “They are from your mother’s own collection. When the magpies discovered where your father’s will was hidden, they uncovered a cache of jewels and gemstones as well.”
Was it the waltz that made her dizzy or the relief of knowing her father had not been utterly lost to his grief—that he had not forgotten her after all? “Uncle told me…” She blinked. It would not do to weep in the arms of her fiancé in the midst of a waltz at a society ball. “He told me they were all gone, that my father had wagered them away.”
“Your father had hidden them away,” Alfred said, “and thus the horses are not your only remembrance of your mother.”
