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“Yes?”
“You look…” he began, searching for words to describe her.
Beautiful. Stunning. I am in awe. Not even a compass could direct me to the best way to describe how you have made me feel.
“You look lovely,” he only said.
Her lashes fluttered, and a small flush rose on her cheeks. Eloise cleared her throat as a footman took her shawl and Dorian’s coat, along with his top hat. Eloise smiled and reached up, patting down an errant piece of hair.
“You do not look too awful yourself,” she said, teasing him once more as she had in the townhouse.
It was as though their new closeness since the evening of her birthday had let her shed a bit of her restraint when it came to speaking to him.
“Are you nervous?” he asked her.
She looked ready to deny it, but she nodded. “A little. It is our first appearance together as a couple.”
Dorian kissed her gloved knuckles. “And what a sight we make.” He gave her a smile that didn’t quite feel right on his face, and he knew it was one Gideon often called a grimace. Dorian quickly turned his head away and caught sight of their reflection in the tall mirror right before the double doors.
He did not draw Eloise’s attention to it, but he liked the sight of them together all the same.
They looked right together.
Right.
So right, that Dorian could hardly imagine how he’d been living so long without her.
The fact that he did knocked something hard into his chest, pushing through his ribs, and into his heart.
It is a convenient marriage, he reminded himself. You do not need to get yourself worked up over a woman you do not love, nor care to love.
They were a shimmer of green as the doors were opened for them by the footmen, and the music poured out, exposing a sea of full-skirted gowns and men who spun ladies around gracefully.
Dorian guided Eloise to their announcement point, taking in the groups of ladies huddling near the refreshment tables, or the men who lingered by the open patio doors, discreetly smoking.
Eloise let out a shaky breath as another footman called attention to them.
“Introducing His Grace, the Duke of Oldcliff, and Her Grace, the Duchess of Oldcliff.” His voice rang out over the music and the rising chatter in the dance room.
At once, heads turned toward the elusive pair of them who had sparked so many questions. Who had not been seen in Society, nor quelled any stories, since their wedding a month ago.
“Remember,” Dorian murmured, placing her arm into the crook of his elbow and he began to step into the crowd properly, “they do not matter to us. We do not need to pay attention to them, or their little scandal stories they make for attention.”
“Yes, but—”
“No.” He shook his head discreetly. “You are a duchess, and you are my duchess. Pay them no mind and remember who you are. Now, lift up your chin, and smile.”
It was a gentle reminder for her to physically act like the duchess she was. He didn’t want her shoulders slumping in worry, or her head ducked in fear of meeting the eyes of those around her. It was different from the way most ladies were ordered to hold themselves higher.
No, he wanted to empower his wife.
“People keep looking at me, and then their eyes drop,” Eloise said through a clenched jaw. “It is awful.”
“I know.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “As much as I can, I will not leave your side, and if I must, I am certain Gideon and Nancy are here.”
Eloise nodded, giving him a small smile. “I will be fine.” Her eyes narrowed over his shoulder, and she sighed. “Though, speaking of being fine, here is my first test.”
Dorian turned at her indication, finding Lord and Lady Wittby approaching them. The light of the many chandeliers in the dance hall caught the gemstone of Lady Wittby’s earrings, and she purposefully flourished her hand, flashing the rings even Dorian knew had been added.
