Chapter Fifteen

I am sure that I love him.

“The Duke?”

Florentina started as her sister touched her arm. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are in love with the Duke, yes?”

The shock which rippled across her chest was so great, that Florentina did not know what to say. Christina laughed softly and slipped her hand through Florentina’s arm. “You are aware that you whispered that under your breath, are you not? Though, I must say, I am not in the least bit surprised to hear it.”

“I… I do not know…” Florentina shook her head. “The truth is, Christina, I am trying to make sense of all that stirs within my heart. I never expected to feel such a way about the gentleman and yet, I do.”

“Which is quite wonderful,” Christina answered as they began to promenade around the Duke’s ballroom together. “I am glad to hear it, for I think that you deserve a husband who will dote upon you and I certainly did not imagine that the Duke of Dartmoor would be such a fellow!”

“Neither did I,” Florentina answered, with a chuckle, “though now, it seems, he has quite altered.”

“And you believe him? You trust that there is not some ploy behind it all?”

Florentina hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I do not think that he is at all pretending, If that is what you mean. Indeed, I asked him about why he wished to keep our engagement a secret before this evening, and he said that had been very foolish.”

Christina’s eyes flared. “And you did not inquire as to why he had insisted upon it?”

“No, I did not.” Florentina shrugged. “I saw no purpose in doing so. It would speak of his past, and the gentleman he once was, rather than the gentleman he now strives to be. So yes, Christina, I do trust him when he speaks of his heart, for I believe he has entirely changed.”

“Lady Florentina?”

Florentina turned, only for her stomach to dip in a most unpleasant manner. “Lord Finneston, good evening.”

“I told you that I would make certain we danced together, did I not?” Lord Finneston wiggled one finger at her as though she was a wayward child, needing to be corrected. “And look! Here I am!”

“Yes, indeed,” Florentina murmured, her eyes darting towards Christina who had a look on her face that spoke of utter dislike. She nudged her lightly and Christina quickly forced a smile, though Florentina could well understand the feeling.

“Your dance card, Lady Florentina?”

She blinked at him, then seeing that she had no other choice but to offer it to him, took it from her wrist. “Alas,” she said, holding it back from him for a moment, “the Duke of Dartmoor has requested the waltz, and I have promised him that I shall not deny him.”

“Oh?” Lord Finneston lifted an eyebrow. “That is most considerate of him.”

“It is.” Florentina handed the card to him and watched as his eyes moved across the dances. To her irritation, he chose two dances, though Florentina had no say in whether or not she desired such a thing from him. Thereafter, he did take Christina’s card but only chose one dance, making his preference more than a little obvious.

“I am a little envious of the Duke, that he should be able to take your waltz, Lady Florentina.” Coming a little closer to her, he tilted his head and put one hand on her arm, albeit gently. “Would you accept a request from me to take your waltz at whatever ball we both next attend?”

It was on the tip of Florentina’s tongue to tell him that she was now betrothed to the Duke of Dartmoor and would have no need to save the waltz for him but, given that the Duke had not yet made the announcement and intended to do so very soon, Florentina forced those words back. “I think you shall just have to seek me out,” she answered, with what she hoped was a warm smile. “But I thank you for your consideration.”

“Lady Florentina. Might I speak with you for a moment?”

Without so much as glancing to see which gentleman it was that spoke to her, Florentina answered instantly. “Yes, of course.” Turning then, she saw none other than Lord Crawley who, for whatever reason, was now scowling at Lord Finneston in the most dark manner. “Lord Crawley.” A little confused, she glanced at Christina. “Are you sure it is not my sister that you wish to speak with?”

“I am sure.” He took her by the elbow and then led her away from Lord Finneston and Christina, though only by a few steps. His expression was heavy, his jaw jutting forward as he glanced all around rather than looking at her. “I do not want to say this, Lady Florentina, but I fear I must. As you may recall, I did wish to speak with you some weeks ago but you were unwilling.” He frowned all the more darkly. “I understand that you do not trust me and have no reason to listen to me but—”

“I would not say I distrust you now, Lord Crawley.” Confused as to why he appeared so upset and even a little angry, Florentina swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I am sorry that I did not wish to speak to you at the time for certainly, I was unsure of your motivations.”

“It is for your own sake that I speak,” he told her, leaning a little closer now. “Lady Florentina, as much as it pains me to speak of this, I must warn you against the Duke of Dartmoor.”

“Against?” Florentina’s mouth went dry as Lord Crawley nodded, utterly confused as to what he meant. “You are his friend, are you not?”

“I was. In truth I thought that he might have changed of late, I believed that his apology was genuine… until I saw Lord Finneston.”

Florentina blinked, confused. “You saw Lord Finneston?”

Lord Crawley took in a deep breath and then let it out again. “Again, I do not want to injure you,” he said, softly. “The reason the Duke returned to London and made himself present in society was because he had a plan— a plan to make certain that you would not continue with your betrothal.”

A dreadful fear gripped Florentina, and she could not breathe as she stared back at Lord Crawley, silently pleading with him to explain.

“Lord Allington was to push all of his attentions upon you until you believed yourself half in love with him,” Lord Crawley told her, as Florentina gasped with shock. “Lord Allington is something of a scoundrel though the ton are not fully aware of it, and he was going to basically tell you that he was half in love with you and wished to propose marriage.”

Florentina closed her eyes, gripping Lord Crawley’s arm for support. “So that I would end the betrothal in the hope of marrying Lord Allington.”

“Precisely.” Lord Crawley’s voice had dropped low. “Lord Allington, however, found himself truly drawn to you and, much to the Duke’s astonishment—and my relief—determined that he would no longer be involved in such a scheme.”

Florentina’s whole body shuddered as she opened her eyes and looked at the gentleman again. “That is why he has withdrawn his company from me?”

“Yes, that is so. The Duke, thereafter, has done nothing other than state that he has begun to realise how much of a fool he has been and the like and, if I am to be truthful, I would tell you that I did begin to believe him! But now, in seeing the way that Lord Finneston has hurried towards you, the way that he has sought out your company in such a forceful manner now makes me fearful that the Duke has done the very same thing again, but has sought to cover his actions by pretending to alter himself.”

Florentina closed her eyes, trying to grasp what Lord Crawley had said, but a great resistance rose within her. Everything she had come to believe about the Duke would vanish if she accepted it; all she had trusted in him would shatter. Their kisses—the two most wonderful moments of her life—would mean nothing if she believed what Lord Crawley suggested. And yet, at the same time, Florentina’s heart began to tear.

“I must speak with the Duke himself,” she answered, her voice shaking just as terribly as the rest of her body. “I must know what the truth is.”

Lord Crawley nodded, looking into her eyes with great concern. “Are you certain that you can?”

“I must.” Closing her eyes, Florentina took in a long, steadying breath, telling herself that she had to hear the truth from the Duke’s lips before she would let herself react to it. If it were true that the Duke had been nothing but a pretender, her whole world would crumble, yet still, she would be bound to him.

I will not give up the house.

“Lady Florentina? The country dance, if you recall?”

Lord Crawley’s expression darkened. “Lord Finneston, now is not the moment for interruption!”

Florentina’s skin crawled. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was to dance with Lord Finneston. “Lord Finneston, I—”

“Is there something the matter?” Lord Finneston came a little closer, frowning now as he glanced from Florentina to Lord Crawley and back again. “Lady Florentina, if there is something the matter then, of course, we need not stand up together.”

“No, no, I am quite well.” Florentina forced a smile, telling herself that to admit anything to Lord Finneston would be foolish, for he might then go and speak with the Duke before she had any opportunity. “Lord Crawley, thank you for your conversation. I have much to think upon.”

His lips flattened, another sharp look being sent towards Lord Finneston. “Are you sure you are quite well? I am sure Lord Finneston would understand if you could not.”

“I am sure.” Florentina drew in another breath and then, with a final nod to Lord Crawley, turned to take Lord Finneston’s arm. The gentleman immediately began to talk, speaking of things that did not interest Florentina in the least and making her turn her head away, praying that she would be able to dance without any difficulty and would not betray herself. Coming to the centre of the ballroom, she stepped back from Lord Finneston into her place, dropping into a curtsy as he grinned at her and then bowed.

The dance was something of a blur for Florentina was so overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, she could not even summon a single smile for Lord Finneston. The gentleman continued to speak as they danced but Florentina did not so much as offer a single word by way of response. Over and over, she wondered if Lord Finneston would be quickly reporting to the Duke about their dance, fearful now that he would be laughing over how much he had managed to pull Florentina away.

I will not give in.

The resolve brought her back to herself, back to the moment. The truth was not yet known, for Lord Crawley only suspected that the Duke had done the very same thing again, but even to hear that he had sought to push Lord Allington towards her made Florentina’s heart ache—though she could well believe that he had done such a thing. That was the gentleman he had been, the gentleman who had been cruel and callous and selfish, not this newly reformed fellow who kissed her so gently and told her of his affection! If he had been doing nothing but a pretense that would break her heart utterly but all the same, Florentina swore to herself that she would not step back from him. The family home, her mother and her sisters had been her only thought when she had first accepted him and even now, that was still at the forefront of her mind.

“An excellent dance!” Lord Finneston beamed at her as he bowed, then caught her arm. “Come now, let me fetch you a drink. I can see that you look a little weary!”

Florentina took her arm away from him. “I thank you but I must go to find my mother or my sister.”

“I know where they are.” Another voice caught Florentina’s attention, only to see Lady Dinah gesturing to one side of the ballroom. “I was standing near them before the dance.”

A little surprised but grateful nonetheless, Florentina thanked her and then, thereafter, thanked Lord Finneston before turning on her heel and making her way as quickly as she could towards the other side of the ballroom. She had to speak to her mother about what had been revealed, finding herself uncertain now that the Duke had any real, true intention of announcing their engagement. What if all of this had been a ploy? What if Lord Finneston was meant to coerce her this evening, instead of her standing by the Duke’s side as he told everyone that they were to wed?

Reaching the back of the ballroom, Florentina looked left and right, struggling to find any familiar faces. Her heart clamouring, she pushed open the door to the hallway, thinking that she might find her mother or sister standing there, away from the noise and the heat—only for someone to grasp her arm tightly. Before she could make a sound, Florentina found herself propelled into another room, a small, dark parlour, with the door shut tight behind her.

Fear clutched at her throat and she let out a strangled cry, pulling her arm out of Lord Finneston’s grip. Her eyes rounded as she took in his dark expression and, much to her surprise as she glanced over her shoulder, Lady Dinah’s presence also.

“You are much too frustrating, Lady Florentina.” Lady Dinah shut the door tightly behind her and began to walk towards Florentina, her hands curled tight. “I know that you intend to seek out the Duke for yourself, but I am here to inform you that you shall not succeed.”

“I—I do not understand,” Florentina stammered, seeing Lord Finneston’s lip curl. “What do you mean?”

Lady Dinah glared at her, her face set in anger. “What I mean is clear, Lady Florentina. The Duke is mine. ”