From inside the carriage, Beatrice called out. “Go ahead! Do not wait for us. My shoe has come loose.”
Teresa’s throat bobbed, and she took a deep breath, gracing Cyrus with another perilous smile. “Very well. Lead the way.”
Cyrus did, keeping her close to his side as they ascended the porch steps and entered the manor, where music and chatter and laughter clashed together, sending a bristle of discomfort down his spine. Perhaps he would never be at ease at social gatherings, but with Teresa beside him, he knew that no one would be looking at his scarred face. How could they, when a heavenly creature walked among them?
As if to prove his point, the chatter in the entrance hall faded into shocked silence, every pair of eyes resting on the vision in gold.
“Is that…?” someone whispered.
Their companion nodded. “I think it is.”
Like a whip snapping, the astonished guests rushed forward, crying out exuberant greetings to the new Duchess of Darnley, vying to be the first to welcome her. As if there had never been a scandal at all.
Teresa, I think you just propelled yourself to the top of society’s list.
Gazing at her in secret as she valiantly responded to all of the greetings, all politeness and courtesy and shy smiles, he wondered how anyone with any sense whatsoever could have dared to put her last.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Ido not think I have ever talked to so many people in my entire life,” Teresa gasped, feeling as if she had climbed the highest hill near Grayling House instead of merely greeting a seemingly endless tide of guests.
Cyrus, who hadnotyet abandoned her, gave a small nod of approval. “You are managing very well.”
“Careful, Cyrus,” she teased a little. “Do not be too effusive, or it shall go to my head.”
He frowned, pulling his broad shoulders back at the expense of his waistcoat’s heroic buttons, his expression one of a man who was trying to solve a very difficult puzzle. It reminded her of what her own face liked to do when she was trying to find the right word to describe something, though her attention was somewhat divided, her gaze flitting to his muscular chest, waiting for the moment that his poor buttons finally gave up.
“What I mean is,” he began to say, but she did not get to find out the rest, as a loud, lively voice interrupted.
“Darnley, you old goose! Where have you been hiding?” The Marquess of Leighmoor slid into view before them, where they stood on the periphery of the ballroom. “Andwherehave you been hidingthisrare bird? Does your wife know you brought a goddess in her stead?”
Teresa snorted at the terrible comment, her own tongue loosened by the feat of verbal endurance she had just had to experience. “That cannot possibly ever work to charm a lady. Please, tell me it does not.”
“I believe you know my friend, Anthony,” Cyrus said gruffly, his arm brushing against Teresa’s, as if to lay claim to her.
Teresa nodded, rather pleased by his closeness, and that subtle touch. “I remember him from the wedding, and I daresay I remember him at a ball not unlike this one, though everyone was masked.” She cast Anthony a cool smile. “If I am not mistaken, you wrote a list with my name on it and had a few things to say about me.”
She doubted she would ever forget that wretched list for as long as she lived. The only reason she had not held it against Cyrus was because he had not been its author, and he had crossed her name out before he knew anything about her, at his friend’s behest. It still hurt, though, even if she did not want to admit it.
Anthony paled, a nervous laugh leaving his lips. “Ah… yes, about that. My sincerest apologies, Your Grace.” He put his hands together, bowing his head. “As my friend here has undoubtedly told you, I am a fool, and am often wrong. That being said, I am delighted that Darnley remedied my mistake by marrying themosteligible young lady on that list.”
“I suppose I should thank you, really,” she said crisply. “I would still be in the midst of my third Season, destined for spinsterhood, if you had not walked in when you did.”
“Oh, gratitude is not necessary.” Anthony waved a dismissive hand. “My own evening, that night, could not have fared worse, so you may take that as my punishment. I had taken a liking to Lady Juliet, you see, but that has gone swiftly out of the window for obvious reasons.”
Cyrus raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Lady Juliet?” He peered down at Teresa. “Was she the one screaming about the incident, that night?”
“My tormentor,” Teresa replied, nodding. “Still, I feel sorry for her.”
“You feelsorryfor your tormentor?” Cyrus sounded confused, searching her face for some explanation.
She shrugged. “She is ruined, with no hope of fixing the mistake or her reputation. That is not a situation I would wish upon anyone.” She dared a smile, feeling somewhat bold after thesuccess of their arrival. “At least I had the good sense to be caught in a scandal with anunmarried gentleman.”
His dark blue eyes widened, the ghost of a smirk trying to pull up one corner of his lips.
“Aduke, no less,” she added, chuckling. “All because you crossed my name off a list and enraged me.”
A soft sound, not quite a laugh, left his throat. “I seem to be doing that quite a lot.”
