Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

T he ballroom was alight with the glow of chandeliers, the soft hum of conversation blending with the strains of the orchestra. As Elizabeth and Alexander stepped through the grand doors of Compton Manor, the air seemed to shift, and all eyes turned toward them.

Elizabeth's heart fluttered. She could feel the weight of the stares, the whispers that followed their entrance. Her fingers tightened slightly around Alexander's arm as they walked deeper into the room. Is it the scandal? she wondered, her nerves spiking. But as they moved through the crowd, nodding politely at familiar and unfamiliar faces alike, she began to realize something else.

The people here weren't like those in London. The atmosphere lacked the sharp edge of falseness and gossip that so often pervaded the grand rooms of the ton. These were people who had chosen the country, not for lack of fortune or standing, but for the genuine pleasures of simpler life—free from the relentless frivolities of society.

Her grip on Alexander's arm eased, and she allowed herself to breathe more freely. Perhaps this wouldn't be so dreadful after all.

Alexander was calm beside her, his usual composed self. He introduced her to several influential country families: a retired military general with a stately air, a baronet and his charming wife, and an earl who, despite his title, seemed far more relaxed than any peer Elizabeth had met during the Season. She smiled politely, engaging in light conversation, but a part of her remained aware of the attention still lingering on them.

And just when Elizabeth thought they couldn't possibly receive any more focus, Lady Compton's voice rang out, clear and commanding above the chatter.

"My lords and ladies, if I may have your attention!" The Viscountess stood in the center of the room, beaming as she gestured toward Elizabeth and Alexander. "I have the great pleasure of announcing that the Duke and Duchess of Sterlin will be opening the dance floor this evening!"

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, and Elizabeth's cheeks flushed. She turned to Alexander, her heart racing, flustered by the sudden spotlight. She wasn't sure if it was nerves or excitement that flooded her chest, but her thoughts jumbled together as she realized all eyes were truly on them now.

Alexander looked down at her with an amused glint in his eye, offering his hand. "Shall we, Duchess?"

Elizabeth blinked, feeling the world spin slightly. "Must we?" she asked in a soft, breathless voice, though there was a hint of laughter in her words.

His grin widened, and without another word, he led her to the center of the ballroom. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Elizabeth found herself in Alexander's arms, moving across the floor with surprising grace. She had danced with him before, but tonight… tonight felt different.

He was a good dancer—no, a very good dancer . His movements were confident, each step fluid as though the dance were second nature to him. She looked up at him in surprise.

"You've been hiding this talent," she said, a teasing smile pulling at her lips.

Alexander raised a brow, a glint of pride in his gaze. "I am a man of many talents, Elizabeth. Ones you'll come to discover in time."

"Is that a promise, Your Grace?" she asked slyly, unable to resist the playful challenge in her voice.

His smile deepened, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly. "It is."

They twirled together, the music swelling around them, but for Elizabeth, it was as if the rest of the room had faded. For a brief, fleeting moment, she forgot everything—the scandal, the reason for their marriage, the carefully constructed walls between them. Here, in Alexander's arms, she could almost pretend their union was real, that they were like any other couple, enjoying the pleasures of a country ball.

She laughed softly as they moved, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. As the music swelled toward its final notes, Elizabeth felt something unexpected bloom in her chest—a sense of happiness, of contentment. For a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in it, to forget the complications that loomed over them.

But as the dance ended, and Alexander's hand slipped from hers, the reality of their situation crept back into her mind. Still, she couldn't dismiss the lingering warmth from their dance, the way he had made her feel.

Perhaps, for tonight, she could let herself enjoy the pretense.

Elizabeth excused herself after a moment to use the retiring room, and she was making her way back to the ballroom when something caught her eye—a familiar figure slipping through a nearby door. It was Alexander. He moved with purpose, his tall frame disappearing into what appeared to be a conservatory with barely a glance behind him.

A prickle of curiosity stirred in her chest. Where could he be going? The ball was still in full swing, and Alexander had never been one to shy away from his duties as host or guest. Something about the way he moved, so swift and deliberate, unsettled her. Without thinking, she followed him.

Elizabeth stepped quietly into the conservatory, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the glass walls. She moved carefully, her breath catching as she saw him standing not far from her—engaged in conversation with a woman she immediately recognized.

Georgianna.

Elizabeth's heart clenched painfully in her chest, her pulse quickening as she pressed herself against the doorframe, unwilling to make her presence known. She wasn't sure why she stayed hidden. Perhaps it was the sudden wave of unease that had gripped her. Something about the way Georgianna stepped closer to him, the way her voice purred through the quiet air, made Elizabeth's stomach twist.

"I received your letter, Alexander," she said, her voice low, flirtatious. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting such… directness from you."

Elizabeth's heart thudded painfully against her ribs. A letter? Her mind whirled, her vision narrowing. What letter?

Alexander's voice, calm and measured, followed. "It was necessary."

Necessary. Elizabeth's hands tightened into fists at her sides. What could possibly be necessary between them? Her breath quickened as she strained to listen, the soft tones of their voices curling into the air like poison.

Georgianna laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down Elizabeth's spine. "You never change. Always so proper. But I can see right through you, Alexander. You wouldn't have written to me if there wasn't more to it. There's always more."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, tears already stinging her eyes. More? Was Georgianna insinuating…? Her mind began to spin, piecing together what felt like a cruel puzzle. Had she been blind all along? All those moments of distance, the coldness, the unexplained absences—was this the reason?

Her vision blurred, and she took a shaky step back, unable to hear more. She couldn't. If she stayed, she might witness something that would shatter the fragile sense of stability she had built over the evening.

The words between them were enough. A letter. More. The undeniable familiarity between them. Her heart broke a little more with each second she remained.

Without another thought, she turned and fled, her shoes barely making a sound on the carpeted floor as she made her way back down the hallway. Tears threatened to spill, her chest tightening with the weight of her hurt. She could hardly breathe.

Her husband was indeed keeping Georgiana as his mistress. The truth, bitter and cold, settled in her chest like a stone. How foolish she had been, to believe that this evening, this fragile happiness, was real.

She stood in front of the refreshment table, her breath hitching. She blinked furiously and picked up a glass of lemonade, raising it to her lips and taking a sip that she barely tasted.

Had it all been a lie?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Elizabeth went through the motions—smiling politely, engaging in conversation—but inside, she felt hollow. The joy she had felt earlier, dancing with Alexander, now seemed distant, drowned by the bitter sting of what she had witnessed. Each glance at Georgianna across the ballroom sent another stab of pain through her chest.

Alexander had noticed her growing silence. She felt his gaze on her throughout the remainder of the evening, but she avoided him, not trusting herself to face him after what she had seen.

The carriage ride home was suffocating in its silence. Alexander, sensing her distance, tried to break it.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself earlier," he began cautiously. "But something's changed. What is it?"

Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed out of the window, the dark landscape blurring past. Her heart was pounding, the fury simmering just beneath her skin. She clenched her hands in her lap, refusing to answer. How dare he? How dare he act as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just been meeting with Georgianna in secret?

"Elizabeth," he pressed, his voice more insistent now, "what's wrong?"

She remained silent, her chest tight with anger and pain. She couldn't bring herself to speak, not here, not now. Her silence stretched on, and Alexander's confusion only grew.

When they reached the Manor, Elizabeth barely waited for it to come to a full stop before she bolted from her seat, her heart racing as she hurried into the house. She didn't care about the propriety of her behavior or the curious glances from the servants. She had to get away, to escape before she exploded with the weight of her emotions.

She made for the stairs, her feet moving swiftly as she headed toward her chambers. She just wanted to be alone, to shut the door and block out the world—and especially him .

But just as she reached her door and began to close it behind her, it was stopped by a sudden force. Elizabeth turned, her breath catching as she saw Alexander standing there, his foot wedged in the door to prevent her from shutting him out.

"Elizabeth," he said firmly, his voice low but edged with frustration. "We need to talk."

Her heart lurched, anger and pain rising in her throat. "I have nothing to say to you," she replied, her voice trembling.

"You're upset. I can see that," he continued, pushing the door open wider as he stepped into the room. "What happened?"

Elizabeth's fury boiled over. She turned to face him fully, her hands shaking at her sides. " What happened? " she spat, her voice rising. "I saw you, Alexander. I saw you with Georgianna."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Saw me? What are you talking about?"

"In the conservatory," she continued, her voice breaking as her emotions spilled over. "I followed you. I heard you talking about letters and God knows what else!"

His eyes widened, realization dawning on his face. "Elizabeth, that's not what you think?—"

"Don't lie to me again!" she snapped. "I saw you, Alexander! You were meeting with her, and don't you dare tell me it was innocent!"

"Elizabeth," he began, his voice steady, trying to calm her, "if you'll just let me explain?—"

"Explain?" she cut him off. "There's nothing to explain! I've already been dragged through one scandal because of the rumors with your brother, and now this? Now I'm supposed to endure the humiliation of being married to a man who keeps a mistress ?"

Alexander's jaw tightened, his frustration evident as he stepped closer. "There is nothing between Georgianna and me. Nothing. You misunderstand," he said, his tone more insistent now. "I sent her a letter because I had to warn her?—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

He moved closer, his eyes flashing with anger now. "You're wrong, Elizabeth. You don't know the full story."

"I know enough," she retorted, her voice shaking. "I know that I won't be publicly humiliated by you. Not after everything I've already endured!"

"And what of what I have , Elizabeth?" he snapped, his voice rising above hers. "How you gave my brother liberties and left me to sort it out. Have you given that any thought?"

Elizabeth froze. Her heart plummeted, the words cutting through her like ice.