She could tell him. She knew that she could and probably should. Allan was her husband, now, and she had already shared her greatest secret with him. Would it not be right to tell him that the man at the other end of those letters was Lord Wetherington?
“I just never liked Lord Wetherington,” she said with unease. “He was more my parents’ friend than my own. He reminds me of their expectations.”
She reasoned that she kept the truth to herself because she feared Allan would make a scene if he discovered just how afraid she was of the man. Her parents had suffered enough scandal recently without adding a public humiliation to the list.
“Very well.” Allan didn’t look entirely convinced by her words, but he gave up and nodded all the same.
Frederica fidgeted with her glass repeatedly. She looked over Allan’s shoulder, quite terrified of seeing Lord Wetherington again.
“You look as far from a smile now as you did at our wedding ceremony,” he sighed.
“What?” She jerked her head around to look him in the eye. “I smiled at our wedding.” He raised his eyebrows. “I was nervous.”
“Oh, I know you were.” He managed a small laugh. “Yet what do you have to be afraid of now? We came here because I thought you’d enjoy yourself. Do not let me see that man ruin your whole evening.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why the hell are you apologizing to me?” he said with another laugh. “Freddie, shouldn’t I be the one apologizing to you if I brought you somewhere you did not want to be?”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head at him. “It’s just sometimes smiling isn’t as easy as you feel it should be.” She even tried to force a smile now but failed miserably.
“Well, that smile was rather frightening.”
“You are so complimentary as a husband; have I told you that yet?” she teased him. When he laughed, she felt her first temptation to smile for many minutes.
With Allan, it was always easier to be that bit freer and speak her mind a little bit more.
“Come on, then.” He offered his hand to her again.
“Come on, what?” she repeated, not yet giving him her hand.
“How about we have that dance?” he suggested. “Maybe I’ll get to see you smile properly then? And there’s no need to look at my hand as if I am offering up a dead slug.”
“That’s not what I was doing!”
“We have danced together before, you know. We danced at Dorothy’s and Stephen’s wedding. Do you remember that?”
“How could I forget?” She put her glass down behind her. “I seem to remember I stood on your toe, and you stood on my gown, so all in all, a successful dance indeed.”
“Ah, making jests now, then I can still make you smile this evening. Yes, a very successful dance it was.” He waved his hand tauntingly in the air. “What do you say, Freddie? Dance with me?”
She couldn’t resist. She was listening to something stirring deep within her. It was the same warm feeling that had been in her gut ever since that morning when she had joined him for breakfast.
She placed her hands softly in his own. With that same gentleness, he steered her away from the corner where they had hidden themselves and moved the pair of them toward the dance floor. As the music changed, they took their places in the middle of the floor.
A very slow quadrille number began, the violins playing the opening notes with surprising sentiment and depth.
Frederica curtsied along with the rest of the ladies though at all times, she kept her gaze on Allan. He didn’t look away from her either as he bowed.
With the first movement, they approached one another, circling each other, holding hands. They then turned the other way, with Frederica trying her best not to think too much about how when Allan took her hand, she felt trembly all over.
It was nothing like the trembling fear that Lord Wetherington gave her.
This was all excitement…
They parted, circling the other dancers at their side, before coming back together again. This time, they linked arms, stepping toward one another then back again. Allan was still staring at her with that same intensity.
“It is the same dance we did at my sister’s wedding,” he said after a minute. “Do you remember it?”
