Prudence muttered a few choice words under her breath as she stood up, wishing her two sisters a not-altogether-convincing “have a lovely evening” before she headed out of the bedchamber.
A moment later, Isolde was at Teresa’s side, putting her arm around her younger sister’s shoulders, smiling at her through the mirror’s reflection. “I think dear Beatrice has a softer heart than she would like people to think,” Isolde said quietly. “She will forgive you.”
“But I insulted her, and… I did not mean to,” Teresa whispered back, her heart sore.
“And she will forgive you,” Isolde repeated. “It is what people do when they care for one another.”
Staring into her own reflected eyes, a prickle of guilt crackled back and forth in her ribcage, the feeling twofold. If she expected Beatrice’s forgiveness, perhaps Cyrus was deserving of hers. He had seemed truly oblivious to why she had been so angry at him, and she kept forgetting that he had not been raised in an ordinary household, refusing to be lenient despite knowing his circumstances.
Moreover, she found shewantedto forgive him.Does that mean I care about him?
She had no way of knowing, when she still barely knew him at all.
Tonight, I will try,she vowed.Tonight, I will return here knowing at least one new thing about him.
With that promise fixed in her mind, she flashed a shy smile at Isolde. “Now, what else do you think I need?”
“A dress like this,” Isolde replied, smiling back, “it calls for jewels.”
This is ridiculous. She is my wife; what is the purpose of all this mystery?
Cyrus paced beside his carriage, his gaze continuously flitting back to the tall gates that marked the entrance to the driveway of Anthony’s country manor, Leighmoor Hall. Every crunch of carriage wheels on the white gravel made his head whip, but it was yet to be her.
He did not know whose idea it was for them to arrive in separate carriages, but the message had been delivered by Isolde. Not wanting to provoke her dislike for him any more than he already had, he had consented and was now regretting it immensely. People were staring, no doubt wondering why the Duke of Darnley had arrived without his Duchess, no doubt whispering fresh rumors about the state of their marriage.
A man’s reputation is all he has,a familiar, unpleasant voice hissed in his head.Youshouldcare what people think about you, you worthless, weak…
Another gravel crunch turned his head, his eyes widening as he saw his own crest on the side of the approaching carriage. He straightened up and took a moment to school his expression into a mask of cool indifference, his arms folded behind his back as he waited for his Duchess.
She was more than worth the wait.
The door opened to reveal a goddess in gold and cream silk, a glinting, teardrop diamond around her neck that sparkled as vividly as her eyes; her dark-honey hair pinned back in gentle waves, studded with pearls and small white roses; her cheeks flushed with a pretty dusting of pink, her beautiful lips curving into a smile as she saw him.
That smile took his breath away more than any gown could have, so stunned that he nearly forgot to step forward and offer his hand.
“Apologies, Your Grace,” she said, taking his hand. “We hit a rut and thought we had lost the wheel, but all was well.”
“Cyrus,” he rasped, putting her hand through the crook of his arm, subconsciously pulling her closer to his side.
She peered up at him. “Pardon?”
“My name,” he said. “You should use it.”
“Oh…”
He cleared his throat. “You look… remarkable.”
“Ah, well, I had nothing to do with the gown,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “In truth, I feared it did not suit me.”
“You were made for it,” he said quickly, struggling to get his discipline under control.
Yet, faced with such divine beauty, gifted with her glorious smile and the blessing of her full attention, he found that his tongue kept wanting to tie itself into knots. Of course, he could not letherknow that, but she was… breathtaking.
She smiled brightly at him, the way it lit her up from within sounding alarm bells in his head. That smile was glorious. That smile was dangerous, and it had him by the throat.
“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the entrance of Leighmoor Hall.
Teresa hesitated, turning back. “Perhaps, we should wait for?—”
