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Reginald watched as his father strode to the musicians and whispered something to them. The song came to a slow, steady end, and then, there was silence. Everyone in the room turned, nearly at once, to gaze at the Duke of Mavis. Reginald’s heart thundered against his ribs. He’d known this dreadful moment would come, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
His father raised a glass and grinned at the watching crowd. “Thank you all for coming here tonight, so you may celebrate this most joyous occasion with my family and me! As you all know, this ball is celebrating two occasions. The first is the return of my son, who I thought I’d lost ten years ago.”
Some of thetonturned their attention to him, and Reginald steeled himself for more stares, once the reveal happened.
“I hope that you will join me in welcoming my beloved son back!”
A wave of applause and shouts reverberated throughout the ballroom, so forceful that Reginald felt as if he might be swept beneath it. He forced a smile and nodded, receiving a pleased, enthusiastic grin from his father.
“This night has another purpose, however. We are here to celebrate the engagement of my own beloved son Reginald, the rightful Marquess of Hurrow, with Lady Marcella, the daughter of my dearest friend Adam, Lord Castamere.”
Lord Castamere crossed the room. He hadn’t changed much over the years. Despite being a man well into middle age, his hair remained defiantly thick and black. His skin was unusually pale, too, just as it always had been. Behind him, there was the woman from the garden. Although she smiled, she looked so utterly miserable.
Reginald drew in a deep breath. He scarcely dared to believe what he’d seen. Was Lady Marcella truly the woman who he’d met in the garden, the one who was so unlike the other women of theton? He stared hard at the young lady, as if trying to convince himself that she wasn’t a mirage. Could it truly be that she was Lady Marcella? If that was truly the lady who he was meant to wed eventually, the prospect did not seem so dreadful. She was, as Simon had said, a lady beautiful enough to make a man forget her oddities.
Reginald’s father and Lord Castamere stood beside one another, looking proud and happy. They really were dearest friends, even after so much time. Lady Marcella clasped her hands together and smiled at the crowd. Itwasher! Reginald felt as if his heart leaped into his throat. He couldn’t help but feel…conflicted.
His throat grew tight, and his own heart beat so loudly that he heard its echoes in his head. She was beautiful, and Reginald couldn’t help but let his eyes wander slowly over the luscious form. She was even lovelier in the flicking candlelight than she’d been bathed in the silvery light of the moon and stars.
Intriguing!
What was her story? He yearned to know.
“So that’s your intended,” Simon said.
“Yes,” Reginald replied, scarcely daring to breathe. “That’s her.”
“My dear son!” his father exclaimed jovially. “Join us, so we might share this moment together!”
Reginald forced himself to look composed. This was an outcome far better than the one he’d anticipated. She was far lovelier than he’d ever anticipated she would be.
As he crossed the floor, Marcella’s eyes darted to him. She drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes widened. Was she pleased? Was she upset? It was impossible to tell. Reginald halted a few steps from her, taking her in once more. He was struck by the sudden fear that Lady Marcella might suddenly disappear or else be replaced with some other lady, but she did—of course—remain just was she was. A beautiful, clever mystery of a lady.
“Lady Marcella,” Reginald said, his voice wavering just a little.
She smiled uncomfortably and gave him a polite, measured curtsey. Reginald could only stare at her, certain that he’d done something wrong. He just couldn’t remember all the gestures. She was as startled as he was.
Dimly, Reginald heard the smattering of applause, indicating an approval of the match, and he heard the faint sounds of his father speaking. Mostly, though, all his senses were seized by the young woman who stood before him.
“It’s you,” he said. “I had no idea.”
“Nor did I,” she said, drawing herself up straighter. “It seems we’ve both been caught unaware.”
“I think it’s a wonderful surprise,” Reginald replied.
“It is certainly a surprise.” Marcella’s gaze darted to her father. “A wonderful surprise, indeed.”
Reginald’s eyes searched her charming face, trying to find a hint of how she felt about the arrangement, but her cold expression gave him nothing except an unfathomable distance. She didn’t look pleased, though.
But I could win her. I’m sure of it. If I felt something between us in the garden, she must have, too.
“We should celebrate the engagement properly!” Lord Castamere exclaimed. “Let’s have a dance between the couple.”
A dance?
The lord’s words sliced through the fog in Reginald’s brain and sent everything into a horrific, sharp clarity. Of all the scattered things Reginald remembered about being a nobleman, dancing wasn’t one of them.
