Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

“ Y ou have decided,” Alexander said, leaning back into the settee, referring to a conversation they’d had the evening John had returned.

Two days later, everybody had heard of the return of the Viscount of Halthorpe.

When Alexander had first suggested attending a ball, Madeleine had tried to refuse, as she had several times.

However, when an invitation came from the Duke and Duchess of Kingswell, it was Madeleine who brought it to Alexander.

“I have,” she said, “and I wish to stay in London for another few days. At least until we attend the ball with him. Besides, I know you enjoy being nearer your business.”

“I can attend to my business regardless. If you wish to return to the countryside, only say the word.”

Madeleine shook her head. “I wish to face the things I have run from, too.”

“The Dunby siblings are quite a fearsome pair,” Alexander teased her. “But I like that he has inspired your confidence.”

“It is only bolstered by the foundation you helped me create,” she told him. “I would like to attend the Kingswell ball.”

“Then we shall.” Alexander was already standing, likely ready to correspond their attendance. “I will have you fitted with a new gown.” He looked over her, his eyes searing and intent on her. “Although I far prefer you as you woke up this morning in my arms.”

“I can hardly parade myself around the Kingswell estate bare as the day I was born,” she laughed.

“I am a duke, I shall grant you a pardon.” His smile flashed teasingly. “I shall keep such views for myself, however. Right now?” He moved closer, his hands slipping down to her waist.

“We promised John he would not have a risk of running into such?—”

“I do not care,” Alexander murmured, pressing his mouth to hers. Yet at the sound of shoes coming down the hallway, a heavy, confident tread, he pulled away. “As I was saying, the Kingswell ball will be grand.” His eyes watched the doorway, gesturing a greeting to John, who glanced suspiciously between them.

“Kingswell ball?” he asked. “I know the Kingswells.”

“We are to attend their residence, brother,” Madeleine told him, smiling broadly. “I shall help you get reintroduced to society. Alexander will have you fitted properly.”

John shook his head. “No need. I can provide my own attire, but thank you.”

“Please?” she pressed. “Think of it as a returning gift from me.”

John frowned. “I shall think about it. For now, I shall simply attend the tailor with Alexander. So, shall we go?”

“I can go to the modiste while you are there,” Madeleine told her husband, pressing a hand to his chest, excited.

Alexander ghosted a kiss on her brow. “Let us go.”

The Kingswell ball was a thing of splendor and beauty. Garlands of flowers hung around upper balconies that overlooked the main ballroom below, and decorative vines wrapped around the wide pillars that upheld the higher levels of the residence.

The Kingswell crest had been painted onto the dancefloor, and Madeleine’s satin dress the color of champagne swept over it as Alexander led her deeper into the ballroom.

“Shall we take a turn around the room?” he asked her. Behind them, John followed, his chin high. He had been fitted with new formalwear for the evening, and with his hair trimmed from his travel back from the army base, he had cleaned up excellently.

“I think it is best,” she said. “It is also rather good practice, is it not?”

“You get better every time at handling these beastly aristocrats,” he told her, smiling at his own dismissal of the ton. Now she understood his hatred for the entire society, whether it was to do with the underground workings of the criminals he had once dealt with, or the type of scum that had almost seen Madeleine out of a home and future after Donald’s downfall and death.

“Let us parade my brother a little,” she agreed finally. “John?”

“I am here,” he answered tightly. “Heavens, I forgot how many stares follow oneself. One would think I am a circus monkey and they are waiting for me to do something spectacular.”

“I think Lady Georgina in particular is,” Madeleine giggled, pointing out a dark-haired lady across the ballroom. “She looks rather pleased at your return. Tell me, did she not see you at a previous event the last time you were on leave from the army?”

“Yes,” John laughed. “I believe we had a splendid waltz.”

“Then you must speak with her,” Madeleine urged.

John shot a look at Alexander who shrugged helplessly. “You are an eligible bachelor once more. Leave the battlefield, John. Every eligible lady in here will be wanting to be your viscountess. Prepare yourself.”

John strode past them with a mutter but his posture was that of a fine gentleman. Madeleine was proud of her brother, how he seemed to be finding his feet within his role.

“He has always known how to be a viscount,” Alexander told her, noticing her watching him. “He was merely scared he was not good at it. That he could not handle the responsibility. Your father did not provide a good example.”

“He did not,” Madeleine agreed. “I am proud of him.”

“He is of you as well. He told me so only last night.”

“He did?”

Alexander nodded, smiling at her. “I wish to have you in my arms. I wish to ignore the rest of this pesky ball, and simply look at you.” Madeleine’s breath caught when he turned to her. “Dance with me, my wife.”

“I would be honored, now and forever.”

Her face was flush with happiness, even as she felt the usual stares on her. Yet they were not as potent as they once were. They were easier to ignore. Whether that was because the gossip revolved around the return of her brother, or the fact that she had a stunning gown on, or if it was simply because she was growing stronger once more, Madeleine did not know.

Alexander guided her to the floor just as the next song began to play. He lifted his hand to place against hers.

Madeleine gazed at him, at the neat beard that she ached to feel brushing against her skin, and the brilliant blue eyes that had her breathless no matter how many times she looked into them.

I will never get tired of looking into his eyes , she thought, as their dance began.

For a moment, she considered whether their children might inherit their father’s blue eyes, or her own, an indistinguishable hazel-green. Alexander claimed to love them, to find endless depths in them, but how could she ever compare to the piercing color of his?

“What do you think about?” he asked her, smiling, as they side-stepped around one another. Several rows down, John had invited Lady Georgina onto the dancefloor. Further down, Madeleine noticed Tessa and Colin, gazing starry-eyed at one another.

Madeleine hummed as the music was spun around them. “I was thinking that your eyes are beautiful.”

“Mine?” he laughed. “My darling wife, have you looked at your own reflection? If not, I should have you watch yourself in our chambers. It is most beautiful.”

Madeleine ached to press closer but she appropriately walked in a small circle opposing Alexander. His hand was rough against hers, the only hand in the world she trusted to catch her if she ever fell.

As her gaze caught his own and did not let go, Madeleine knew she truly had fallen for her husband. Their dance continued, and soon, it was time to transition into the next dance. John came closer with Lady Georgina, and Madeleine watched them for a moment.

“It is lovely for me to see him happy,” she told Alexander as they danced alongside the couple, her voice lowered. “He looks very comfortable with her, does he not?”

“He does,” Alexander agreed. “Do you think she is viscountess material?”

“Who knows? I did not think I was duchess material.”

Alexander frowned at her. “Whatever made you think that?”

“You knew Donald’s character,” she said, her voice not quiet, not cracking or broken anymore with the confidence he had shattered within her.

Over the course of her marriage to Alexander, the Duke of Silverton had rebuilt Madeleine, piece by piece, back together.

“He had me believing I was barely a good enough countess, that he had simply endured me for the sake of securing his line. How could I ever think I would be anything more? It is why I accepted my fate back then.”

“You are my everything,” Alexander said. “You are everything. You are the most perfect duchess I never envisioned myself marrying.” His teasing grin told her enough to laugh back.

“And yet here I am.”

His eyes lingered on her. “Here you are.” But the softer tone in his voice, and the gentler look in his gaze quickly hardened at something over her shoulder. He stiffened.

“What is it?” she glanced quickly over her shoulder to look, seeing only the usual crowd of ton aristocrats.

“Nothing,” he told her. “I?—”

“Alexander. We agreed not to shut down on one another.”

“I know. But it was truly nothing. I thought I saw somebody watching us.”

“Is everybody not watching us?” she teased.

Alexander tried to smile; she saw the effort it took. She felt the tension in his shoulders take too long to relax once again. But she cupped his face and brought his attention back to her.

“You worry, and I understand why, but we are here, together. This is not a gambling hell, Alexander. These are not those awful taverns we visited once upon a time. We are not being watched.”

But there was something on Alexander’s mind, something he was choosing not to share, whether it was out of protection or confusion, or sheer stubbornness, she did not know.

All she did was lead her husband off the dancefloor, hoping to lose themselves in the crowd.

By the end of the night, John’s face was flushed with happiness, and Madeleine was not worried, for Alexander had relaxed.

Yet his gaze roamed protectively, as if he searched for a threat but whenever she looked, there was nothing there.

When he took her hand to help her into the carriage to go back to the townhouse, Alexander held her tighter.