When Cecelia found the duke awaiting her in the foyer that evening, she couldn't help catching her breath.
His mask was simple, plain even, just a gold slip across his face, and yet, he looked more handsome than ever she had seen him.
Unable to see half of his face, her eyes were drawn immediately to his plush lips, his jawline, masculine and freshly shaven. The skin there looked so soft and smooth that her gloved fingers tingled to reach out and touch it.
This wasn't their first ball, and yet, as she wandered off the last step of the stairs, it felt as if it were.
A new beginning, perhaps as she reaffirmed her desire to place her trust in him.
And when he smiled at her, his eyes watching her admirably as she crossed the foyer, she was certain. Shecouldtrust him.
“Lady Cecelia, is that you under there?” he asked, and she saw the hint of a brow appear above his golden mask.
She was glad that her fairy-themed mask with its green, pink, and gold sequins and its floral design covered most of her cheeks as she blushed.
“Am I presentable?” she asked, glancing down at her gown that matched her mask, feeling the straps of the wings upon her back rub ever so gently as she moved.
The modiste had taken excellent care in crafting her the perfect attire for the evening, and suddenly she was glad she had spent so many hours beneath her pins to get it perfect.
“I think you shall be the belle of the ball,” his grace said, and Cecelia's face reddened further, the heat travelling down her neck and chest. She was glad Sophia had taken extra care to powder her skin to hide such things.
Coming from the duke, it was perhaps the best compliment she might have hoped for.
“I would have to agree.”
The voice coming from the drawing room doorway made her jump.
She looked around to find her mother standing there, watching the two of them like a hawk.
“You must go now before you are late,” her mother urged, shooing them with her hands.
“Be calm, Lady Westmere,” his grace said gently, “the ball cannot start without us.”
Cecelia felt a thrill at his words. Though it was not entirely true, she could almost believe it.
Glancing at the grandfather clock, she said, “Mother is right.”
His grace sighed. “You ladies are always in such a hurry. Don't you grow tired?”
Cecelia smiled.
“You are the one who always insists you are far too busy to waste time,” she pointed out, and the duke cocked his head.
“That is true,” he admitted, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
Cecelia hesitated for a second. This feltfamiliar.It stunned her, made her stiffen.
Could this truly be the moment where their friendship was rekindled? After all this time, was this finally it?
She laid her hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to guide her out of the house.
“Do remember your manners,” her mother reminded her as they went. “And be careful not to draw too much attention, especially the wrong kind.”
“Of course not,” Cecelia said over her shoulder, and she was most relieved when she, his grace, and Sophia were alone in the carriage, well on their way to the ball.
“This is for you,” his grace said, and Cecelia was only half surprised when he produced another corsage.
It was even prettier than the last, and Cecelia was surprised at how well it matched her gown and mask.
