Jonathan killed Trevor, and had also ruined Alistair’s life. He was another person who Alistair could blame for everything.
As Alistair’s eyes locked on to Jonathan from across the grand ballroom, all the emotions hit him hard. His hands curled up in to fists by his side and he was not sure how on earth he would be able to contain himself. How had this man gone from murdering his friend and other sailors that day, to Duke of Graftonshire? It did not seem fair.
Alistair forced himself to turn away from this man from his past so he could gather himself up. Much as he wanted to let Jonathan know how much damage he had caused, Alistair knew that fighting in the middle of the ballroom would not help his reputation. He certainly could not make things worse for himself.
Alistair’s contemplation of the past was abruptly interrupted as the host of the evening, Lady Agatha Grantham, resplendent in her grandeur, approached him. She was accompanied by none other than the newly appointed Duke of Graftonshire, Jonathan Grantham himself, and another very elegant woman beside him. The trio approached Alistair with a grace and formality that was characteristic of the highest echelons of society.
“Lord Fitzroy,” Lady Agatha greeted him with a warm smile. “May I present to you the Duke of Graftonshire, Jonathan Grantham, and his mother, Lady Rosalind Grantham.”
Alistair, though disoriented by the sudden shift in focus, managed a polite and well practiced smile. He bowed his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. “Your Grace, Lady Rosalind,” he said with a slight nod, his tone a fine blend of cordiality and respect.
Jonathan returned the polite remoteness, as if he held no guilt over what happened to Trevor and the other men aboard the ship. “Lord Fitzroy, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
As Alistair observed the trio while they exchanged pleasantries, he could not help but feel a sense of iciness trickling down his spine. He could not help but fixate on the face of the new Duke of Graftonshire. Their eyes finally met properly, but much to Alistair’s surprise, the connection was devoid of any warmth, any hint of recognition. Instead, Jonathan’s gaze bore indifference, as if their paths had never crossed, as if their shared history and tragedy held no significance.
The absence of recognition, the sheer lack of acknowledgment, left Alistair bewildered and irate. How could the Duke forget? How could he dismiss the tumultuous voyage they had once shared, the perils they had faced together, and the lives that had been lost at sea? Or was this indifference a deliberate act, an intentional over sight meant to erase their shared past from the annals of his memory? Whatever it was, it made Alistair incredibly unhappy and even more full of rage than he was before.
As the grand ball commenced and couples glided gracefully on to the dance floor, Alistair’s thoughts took a decisive turn. The opulent ballroom, resplendent with the gleam of jewels and the hushed rustle of expensive fabric, presented more than an evening of social amusement. It held within its adorned walls an opportunity — a chance to secure his future by pursuing a lady of consequence, ideally one with a substantial dowry, to alleviate the financial burdens weighing heavily on his once proud lineage. One that would not refuse him.
Time was a relentless adversary, and the specter of impending bankruptcy loomed ever larger. With each passing day, his options dwindled, and his desperation swelled. The ballroom, this hub of affluence and potential alliances, was a battlefield where fortunes were decided as swiftly as the next waltz.
Surveying the room, Alistair contemplated the eligible ladies who graced the occasion. Some were heiresses, others daughters of influential families. As he watched them twirl with their dance partners, he assessed their prospects and pondered the implications of forging a connection with one of them.
His need for a solution was acute. The Fitzroy name, once revered and esteemed, had been tarnished by the inexorable march of debt. And he, the last male heir, bore the weight of that legacy’s decay. The ballroom was, at this very moment, a theater of hope and strategy, where alliances could be forged, and futures could be reshaped.
With his course of action clear, Alistair ventured further into the glittering ballroom, ready to dance the dance of opportunity and secure his family’s place in the upper echelons of society once more.
CHAPTER 9
Jonathan’s steps gracefully matched the rhythm of the waltz as he twirled across the grand ballroom with Lady Isabella, the Duchess of Cavendale’s daughter. Her eyes sparkled with vivaciousness, and she leaned in closer, her gestures laden with subtle innuendos. Isabella had a reputation for her beauty and her aspirations to climb the social ladder. Jonathan was well aware that his newly acquired title as the Duke of Graftonshire made him an attractive prospect for many women, including Lady Isabella.
Despite her charms, Jonathan’s thoughts wandered, hijacked by the unexpected encounter with Lord Alastair Fitzroy earlier in the evening. There was no denying that was strange, and Alastair’s presence had stirred memories and suspicions, yet Jonathan could not pin point the precise connection that tied them together. The past held a shadowy figure who had once crossed his path in a tale etched in the ink of adversity. If only he could recall where he once knew that face. It might help him understand why Lord Fitzroy looked at him with disdain.
Yet for now, he could not focus on that unusual interaction. The lady in front of him demanded his attention.
As Isabella’s laughter tinkled and her hand inched closer to his arm, Jonathan’s tried to focus, but it was hard to stop his gaze from wandering around the room. The elaborate chandeliers cast a shimmering radiance across the room, bathing the opulent ballroom in a warm glow. Couples glided in harmonious cadence, lost in the beauty of the dance, while the whispered melodies of violins lent a soothing backdrop to the evening.
As the final notes of the waltz concluded, Jonathan led Lady Isabella back to the edge of the dance floor and executed a courteous bow. The gleam of the grand ballroom surrounded them, aglow with the grace and charm of society’s finest.
“It was wonderful to dance with you,” Isabella smiled coyly with a light blush filling her cheeks. “If you would ever like to dance again…”
There was a definite suggestion there that she wanted to dance with him a lot more, which would lead to the idea that he was courting her. Rumors and gossip would fly, and once the ton started to talk about marriage prospects, it was not easy to escape the expectations that would come with it. Jonathan wasnota man who would fall in love and get married, even if he had taken on a Dukedom now. He needed to create a distance between Lady Isabella and himself before she pushed this further.
“Please, enjoy the rest of the evening,” he declared with a polite bow instead. “Thank you.”
As he turned away from Isabella, he caught sight of Lord Fitzroy across the other side of the ballroom, again causing a nagging feeling in the back of his head. There was definitely a memory there, but for now he still could not find it. Perhaps someone else, a friend, would be able to assist him in recalling this memory.
His path naturally led him to the refreshment table, where Captain Lucas Beaumont stood, cradling a crystal goblet of champagne. Their moment of silence as they stood beside one another spoke volumes, carrying with it the weight of shared history, loyalty, and unwavering trust. Jonathan knew that he wanted to ask about Lord Alistair Fitzroy, but he just needed a little moment of peace before he brought up the strange figure from his past.
But before he got the chance to say a word, Jonathan noticed someone else headed towards him. Lord Harry Ellsworth. Now what could Genevieve’s brother want with him? They had only met one another once, at the cliff top, so he could only assume that their conversation would be about that.
“Your Grace,” Harry began, a hint of unease in his voice as he finally got close enough for Jonathan to hear him, “I wanted to... to express my gratitude. I am truly thankful you were there on the cliffs to prevent my sister from having a terrible fall.”
Jonathan could not stop the giant smile from spreading across his face as they talked about Genevieve. He could still very starkly recall the sensation of Genevieve in his arms as he stopped her from tumbling. There was an excitement that immediately brewed between them, that only the two of them could understand.
He nodded in acknowledgment, a subtle but sincere gesture of acceptance. “I understand, Lord Ellsworth. I am glad that I could be of assistance. There is no need for apologies. I do very much appreciate you coming to speak with me though. I am happy to talk to you any time.”
“That is terribly kind of you. It is wonderful to get acquainted with the new Duke of Graftonshire.”
