After that, Georgiana retreated from the dance floor so she might rest her feet and catch her breath. Owen was there immediately with a glass of sherry in hand. They stood in the corner, quietly observing the dancers.
“It was so nice to dance,” she murmured absently. “What a nice evening it is here.”
“Indeed,” Owen replied after a moment’s pause.
Itwasnice, to be certain, but soon Georgiana felt that prickling under her skin again. There were eyes on her. She tried to ignore them.
The night had been going well. She danced, greeted a few familiar faces to whom she introduced her husband, and even enjoyed a pause out on the terrace for fresh air. They did everything that ladies and gentlemen typically did at a ball.
But the longer she stood in their corner, the more she felt that prickling sensation. Soon she couldn’t stop looking around the ballroom. There were people watching them. Everyone was whispering, giving them odd looks.
“Is there something in my hair?” she forced herself to ask Owen.
Perhaps I am too flushed. Or I ripped my dress without noticing. What a horrible thing that would be with a dress as lovely as this one.
“Hm? Why would you ask that?”
She huffed. The doubts were getting to her, and she could think of nothing else. It made sense that Owen wouldn’t understand.
“Never mind. I’ll go to the ladies’ retiring room. There should be a mirror there. Maybe I have something out of place.”
Before she could take a step away from him, Owen neatly tugged her closer while partially shielding her from the crowd. She wanted to think it was a mere coincidence. But as she looked up to study his serious expression, she realized it was done on purpose.
“You don’t have a single hair out of place. Not a single thread,” he promised her. The furrow in his brow deepened. He studied her face for a long time before sighing. “I should have warned you.”
Irritation flared within her. “Warned me? About what?”
His gaze darted away for a moment. “You’re not wrong. Everyone is looking at us. It’s my fault, Georgiana. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable tonight. But this is one of many reasons I don’t come to London.”
It took a moment for her to understand. Inhaling sharply, she muttered, “All those rumors.”
Owen grimaced. That reaction was enough to prove that was what he meant. Everything she had heard, lies she had nearly forgotten, came back to her mind. Some made her want to laugh while others made her want to cry.
“When they can’t have the answers they want, they make them up,” he said.
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed.
He frowned. “We can leave if you want.”
Shaking her head adamantly, Georgiana said, “No, we are not leaving. I haven’t had this much fun in ages!” Surprise flickered across his face. “Nor are you allowed to leave. We’ve come here as guests, and we are staying through the evening.”
After her husband hesitated, he turned for a second to scan the crowd. She saw the tension building in his shoulders. All this time, she had been thinking about herself when it was him she should have been thinking about. Guilt niggled at her, and she wished she had been more careful.
“If you’re certain,” Owen mumbled.
“I am. Because we are not afraid of them, and we don’t believe a thing they say,” she said decidedly. “It’s the ton. They only care about being judgmental. I hate it. They’ll invent stories about others without truly knowing them, and it’s awful. Everyone here is a bunch of flatterers and liars.”
He met her gaze. “Do you really think that?”
“You should have learned to stop doubting me by now,” she responded, poking his chest. “I don’t believe any of the rumors, and I won’t unless you confirm any of them. Which you don’t need to do.”
“I don’t?”
“No. I know you, Owen. Most of those stories were nonsense from the beginning. Now that we’re married, I can see that. I know you and what could possibly be true. We don’t have to worry about their lies. If they wish to stare and whisper, then let them. But I’m enjoying this evening with you,” Georgiana declared, “and I want to enjoy the rest of it with you.”
CHAPTER22
There were plenty of rumors, those he had heard and those he had carefully ignored. Owen wasn’t entirely certain when they started. Probably back at Eton when he stopped attempting to make friends, keeping to himself and hiding away with books in the gardens.
