I had forgotten how splendid dancing could be. How she felt in my arms.
It was a dangerous thing to do, Tristan realized. But as he looked at his wife, he couldn’t see where the harm was. If he wanted to dancewith her, then surely he should be granted that privilege. Perhaps if they danced again, they could begin to understand one another better.
“Your Grace?” Verity scooted a little closer as she gazed up at him, still using his title with so many of the ton nearby. “I did not expect to enjoy a waltz with you tonight. You’re a splendid dancer.”
“Thank you. And you are as well,” he offered.
“Thank you. Perhaps we can talk over supper?” she asked. “I feel as though there is much that has been left unsaid. What made you wish to dance with me this evening?”
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. How had he already forgotten? His eyes narrowed as he remembered Halbridge.
The two of them had not seen each other for quite some time. In fact, they had not seen each other since Cassandra’s funeral. There had been a letter or two, but he’d set them aside with no intention of ever opening them. He had no need of further correspondence with that man.
Since Cassandra’s passing, he had put away most of the items that reminded him of her. Her dresses and belongings were sent off, her maid was offered a position at another household, and so on. All of her friends and acquaintances had disappeared, since none of them were his friends. And her family had not been particularly friendly with him.
Whatever she told them about me, I don’t care to hear it. She fit a lifetime into our short years together. No further lies will draw my attention. It was simple enough to let her rest. Now, if only she would do the same. Halbridge, too.
Perhaps, Tristan decided though it was too late, he should have responded to those letters.
Now, all he could do was tell his wife, “It was only a dance. There is no reason behind it. A waltz is a waltz, is it not?”
His question was meant to be rhetorical. But the starry-eyed vision before him grew serious. She peered up at him, seeing through his every layer.
His Duchess saw too much. He didn’t know how she did it, and he felt his heart speed up.
“Perhaps, but you had already told me you didn’t wish to dance, so it made little sense for you to change your mind. Especially after our conversation in the parlor,” she pointed out, a hint of acid in her voice.
“Perhaps I wished to make amends,” he said, his voice hardening as well before he could catch himself.
She pursed her lips. “I wish that were the case, but I don’t believe it. Besides, you were watching me earlier.”
“A husband should always keep an eye on his wife. I vowed to protect you. We already discussed this. Do you still wish to attend supper?” he added, since the party around them had moved on but they did not. “I’m not certain I’m interested in dining with everyone tonight.”
As though that meant something to her, Verity hummed. “I see.”
He didn’t know what she meant, and it didn’t help when she continued speaking.
“Before you go, at least tell me why you cared so much to watch me with my last dance partner.”
Tristan looked away. “Duchess, you’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“You’re lying,” she said, softening her voice. “What is it about him that bothers you so much? Lord Halbridge, is it not?”
The name made him stiffen. Verity really was too smart for her own good. And for his own good.
Grimacing, Tristan shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation. If you wish to stay, then stay. I’ll send the carriage back to you. Good night, wife.”
He turned down the next hall in haste to find hardly anyone there. No one would wish to leave halfway through a ball. But then he heard a quick patter of footsteps behind him. He let out a low curse.
He saw Verity approach out of the corner of his eye.
“You don’t like him,” she noted.
“I don’t like a lot of people,” he said flatly.
“You don’t enjoy the company of most people. I can understand and accept that. However, what I don’t understand is why his very name causes you to run from the room,” she pressed.
He huffed in irritation. “I’m not running.”
