Chapter 12

“Alice!” Duncan yelled up the staircase, annoyance and anxiety running through him as he put his pocket watch away for the third time.

He had gotten home from Granthill with barely enough time to bathe and dress before the ball. He should have stopped into Alice’s quarters to rush her along, and now he regretted choosing to meet her in the foyer instead. The woman was supposed to be ready at seven, and now it was nearly seven-thirty.

The morning after he had fallen asleep with Alice in his arms, he had awoken feeling more rested than he’d ever had in his life. He had looked down at her, still slumbering deeply in the early hour, and had decided that he wanted to stay. To wake up with her, and perhaps finally try to talk.

Of course, reality was not going to let that happen, for as he nearly fell back asleep, Duncan was roused once again by a soft knock on their connecting door. With great care, he had rolled Alice off him without waking her and gone to answer it. It was Mr. Fletcher with an urgent message, stating that Morgan needed him in town.

Duncan had left right away and had the issue of drunken threats and stripped egos soothed, but then he had to drive Morgan back to Granthill. It had done little good, seeing as how they had immediately needed to come back to Baxter to attend the ball, and it had only served to frustrate Duncan further.

It was in part why he was annoyed that Alice was late. He had wanted a mere moment, but they were all slipping by. The other reason for his annoyance, unfortunately, was because Society demanded they be punctual this evening.

“I’m here!” Alice called, appearing at the top of the staircase, smiling brightly down at him.

Duncan’s eyes grew wide as his breath hitched while taking in his wife. He was immediately pleased with the design and fabric he’d chosen for her ensemble, and it fit her far better than he had imagined. The gossamer triple-shaded green dress wrapped around her perfectly, cinching her waist and emphasizing her voluptuous curves, with bits of fabric tucked strategically here and there. In her ears, she wore the teardrop diamond earrings, and around her neck, nestled just above her bosom, was the diamond-encircled emerald he’d picked out for her.

He watched with pleasure as she descended the stairs gracefully, but his awe turned into concern when her smile faltered briefly as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“What is the matter?” he asked quickly. “Is it the gown?”

“The gown is beautiful,” she replied quickly, touching the skirts delicately as if afraid to dirty them. “Certainly the best I’ve ever worn, but?—”

“But what?” Duncan asked, walking in a slow circle around her. He was trying to find a problem but could not see one. He heard her sigh.

“But don’t you think this would be more suitable for someone of a smaller shape?” she asked, wringing her hands anxiously. “I mean, I should say it does suck me in quite well in the middle, but I still feel that it will be seen as ill-fitted.”

His eyes shot up to her, and he could now clearly see her stress had grown worse. Did she really not see how well the gown fit her? How beautiful she looked?

“It fits perfectly,” he stated honestly.

“I will embarrass you,” she told him, her eyes flicking sadly to the ground, making his gut churn.

“You won’t.” His voice came out much harsher than he had intended, but his patience for such talk was starting to wear thin.

Duncan watched her body tense up at his tone, and he silently cursed himself before taking a steadying breath. Slowly, he reached up, cupping her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and tilted her head up until she was looking at him.

Her eyes still shone with fear as she looked up at him. Only knowing he needed to take it away, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her full lips.

“You look beautiful,” he promised her, holding her gaze as he gently pulled back, “and very much like a duchess.”

A smile broke out on her face then, and she slowly started to look more like herself.

“I do?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

“I do not lie,” he declared, a smirk tugging at his lips as he winked. “Come, we must be going. We are already late, and if Morgan gets there before we do, I will never hear the end of it.”

Alice giggled as she accepted his arm and walked with him to the carriage. Once they were seated on opposite sides and on their way, Duncan expected her to want to talk, and was ready to. To his surprise, though, she pulled out a very small book from her purse instead—one he recognized from the stack by her little pillow perch the other night.

A deep curiosity stirred inside him, overtaking his thought process. He had never even explored that library before Alice had found it. Did not even know it still had books in it. Those were not from her collection. This he already knew because he had them moved into her private chambers. So what books were they? And what subject matter did they discuss that monopolized his wife’s attention?

His eyes darted down to the small spine, trying and failing to make out the faded title in tiny cursive. For a moment, he thought to ask her, but as he brought his eyes back up to her face, the notion dissipated. This was his second time watching her read, and just like the first, the image hypnotized him somehow.

Reading, he realized, was when he saw Alice most relaxed. Even in the carriage, her shoulders rolled comfortably against the cushioned back, her delightful backside wiggled enticingly into the seat, and her hands drew her book up to perfectly cover her face. It was, he decided, an incredibly adorable look on her, and he decided he did not want to interrupt it.

Sitting back, Duncan let his wife read her book as he happily kept his gaze fixed on her.

“Helena is right.” Alice giggled, arm in arm with Ambrose’s little sister. “The four of you together are incorrigible!”

“I beg you to use smaller words, Madam, as my inebriation is inhibiting my ability to process any thoughts completely,” Morgan slurred, sending them all into a fit of laughter.

“And good heavens, never get between them when they’ve had a good boxing row with one another,” Helena warned next, squeezing Alice’s hand as her eyes glittered brightly with happiness.

“Now, now, little crumpet,” Morgan half-shushed, half-slurred as he put an unsteady finger to his lips. “Let us not spill all the family secrets at once. We don’t want our dear Alice running away.”

Helana gasped as if horrified at the notion, and turned to Alice with a pleading look.

“You cannot!” she insisted. “Oh, but I adore you already, and you are not allowed to leave us now!”

“My sister has spoken,” Ambrose stated, giving her a wobbly but protective smile.

Alice could not help but notice that his eyes suddenly sharpened and narrowed as they flicked over to Duncan.

“We must make sure Alice stays.”

All of them, Alice included, were in good union with spirits, with Morgan easily being the drunkest and Duncan being the most sober. Ambrose had seemed to fall somewhere in the middle of that scale with his inebriation, but as he finished his sentence, he seemed perfectly, if not seriously, sober.

Alice looked at Duncan and caught him smirking, and then she felt his hand slide up her shoulder and squeeze. She was not at all sure what the little exchange was about, but she decided it was in her favor. Smiling, she turned her attention back to Helena and the others.

Although she was still wary of attending her first ball as a duchess, Duncan’s praise had soothed her nerves enough to make it fairly easy for her to get through the hardest part of the evening—the introductions to the local ton. To her surprise, she was not greeted with sneering smiles or disapproving looks but warm welcomes and genuine compliments on her dress. Of course, the same could not be said when she turned her back.

Her nerves had risen once more when Duncan declared that he wanted to introduce her to his closest friends, but once Alice met Helena and saw how similar they were, she immediately became comfortable and found she fit right in. Subtly, she had even lent Helena her book to secretly read a few pages through the night, and she was most intrigued to get her opinion on the new genre of books she discovered in her library.

“Are you having a good time?” Duncan whispered in Alice’s ear as his hand squeezed her shoulder again.

Alice felt a tingle run down her spine as she felt her husband’s warm breath on her neck, and she felt her smile widen. “Very much,” she replied, throwing a quick glance back at him.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he whispered, rising back up to his full height. “You are radiant.”

Warmth spread through Alice as she took in his praise and look of approval, and she felt herself grow more comfortable.

“So, dear gentlemen,” she began, joining the conversation again.

“Easy, there, Duchess,” Ezra joked dryly, pointing a thumb toward Morgan. “Don’t let him believe that he’s a gentleman.”

Another round of laughter went up before Alice continued.

“Now that Duncan has married, will you all follow?” she asked gaily.

“Could you imagine?” Morgan scoffed, raising his glass to his lips.

“Right,” Ambrose agreed, nodding toward his drunk friend. “The lady would have to be mad to accept a proposal from the likes of him.”

“You wound me, Brothers,” Morgan said pitifully, making a pouting face that made everyone laugh again.

“Ah, who knows,” Ambrose said, playfully nudging Morgan’s shoulder. “Maybe there’s someone out there wily enough to handle him.”

“And if Duncan can, I can,” Morgan chirped, holding his glass out as a waiter holding a bottle passed by.

“Is that so?” Alice laughed, taking another look at her husband. He was giving Morgan a cool stare, to which Morgan only grinned before he continued.

“Rightly,” Morgan agreed.

“Pay him no mind.” Helena snorted, leaning into Alice. “He’s the worst of the bunch.”

“I must agree with that,” Duncan added as he stepped around Alice.

“Well, now, my pretty pet,” Morgan interjected as he leaned toward Helena with a sly smile, “you could save us all the trouble and be my wife. What do you say? You know I would spoil you to pieces.”

“Now that is an interesting proposal!” Helena giggled at the same time as Ambrose stepped between them and protectively growled, “Over my dead body.”

Laughter loudly erupted from the group as Ezra rolled his eyes and tugged Morgan back to him at the same time that Helena played the perfect little sister and soothed her vastly over-protective big brother. Alice could plainly see that it was all in fun. What was more, she saw that what Helena had said earlier was very much true—they were all a family. Orphans, the lot of them, but they banded together closer than blood could ever bring them.

“I think it’s time for a break,” Duncan suggested, his deep voice rumbling with humor as they both watched the scene. “Shall we dance?”

Alice felt a stir of excitement as he smiled down at her and extended his hand. As far as social gatherings had gone, this one had by far been her favorite just because of the company alone. But now her deeply introverted husband wanted to dance? In public?

“You? Want to dance?” she asked in disbelief. “Do—do you know how?”

Duncan’s smile turned into a smirk, and he rolled his eyes. “I do, and want is a bit of a stretch,” he admitted. “But it is appropriate, and this evening has been lively enough for me to vaguely enjoy a little tradition.”

Alice grinned at the hint of sarcasm in his voice, happy to see him at ease, and let him lead her to the dance floor. He seemed changed, somehow. More comfortable in his skin.

As they began their steps, she was pleasantly surprised at how surefooted her husband was and was soon giggling as he spun her in circles to a lively tune. Throughout the song, she caught people looking at them, some with smiles, others with dubious looks. But she did not feel the usual sting that came with seeing these scowls. Not now. Not when she felt like this.

“You look happy,” Duncan remarked, pulling her to him as the lively song faded into a slow one.

“I believe I am,” Alice replied after a moment of self-reflection.

“You were nervous about tonight?” he asked.

Alice shrugged, finding herself feeling light and tranquil. “I was, yes,” she replied. “But there were other things that I was worried about. Now I am not.”

Duncan looked down at her, his unmasked eyebrow arched questioningly. “What else were you worried about?”

“That you and I could not at least be friends,” she admitted.

“Friends?” Duncan echoed, sounding curious.

Alice looked up at him with an exhausted look. “Come now, Duncan,” she sighed, throwing a glance between them. “Surely with how well things have progressed, we can call ourselves friends at the very least?”