“Indeed I am,” he responded.
Margaret's chest tightened when her grim-faced brother moved toward them.
Please let him be civil to John.
She held her breath as Aldridge came face to face with them. How mortified she would be if her brother spoke rudely to her spouse. “My dear Margaret, I have known you for your entire life, and you’ve never been more beautiful. Marriage must agree with you.” He then flicked a glance at John. “Good evening, Finchley.”
“Good evening, your grace.”
The Duke and Duchess of Aldridge gave one last nod, then moved along and began to climb the stairs to the ballroom.
And Margaret almost swooned with relief. Though her brother had not been particularly amiable to John, he had said nothing to give offense.
Next was the duchess’s sister, Lady Lydia Morgan, with her husband, whom everyone called Morgie. Since Lady Lydia disliked such functions and had an aversion to leaving her baby son, Margaret considered it an honor to receive them.
Morgie spoke first. “I say, you two are a most handsome couple.” His gaze perused John. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed for a ball before, Finchley.”
Lady Lydia stepped up. “That’s because, my dear husband, Lord Finchley has the same aversion to balls that I do. Do you not, my Lord?”
John cracked a smile. “That is true, but one must attend one’s own ball.” He eyed his wife. “And you must own it would be worth any sacrifice to be accompanied by such a lovely lady.”
Margaret could feel the blush stealing into her cheeks.
Mr. Morgan nodded.
His wife spoke. “Lady Margaret—er, Lady Finchley—has always been lovely, but I do believe she’s more beautiful than ever tonight. I daresay, being newly married and madly in love accounts for how agreeable you two look.”
Margaret was too embarrassed to even steal a glance at John. “Thank you,” was all she could say.
"You do dance, do you not, Finchley?" Morgie asked.
John shrugged. "Not in many, many years."
Morgie nodded. "Love to dance, meself. Lydia don't. I say, if you should need me to stand in and do the husbandly duty thing with Lady Finch- - - " A mortified look came over Morgie's face. "Pray, Lady Finchley, put your hand over your ears and do not ever listen to a thing I say."
Once again this night, Margaret felt the heat rise into her cheeks.
"Ah, but Mr. Morgan," John said, smoothly covering the awkward moment, "You must admit that dancing with one as lovely as Lady Finchley will be worth any embarrassment my dancing should cause."
"Oh, yes. Right you are," Morgie said, "Not that I believe your dancing would draw censure."
After the Morgans began to climb the stairs, John glanced at the open doorway, drew her hand into his, and murmured. “It appears that my three best friends have arrived.”
Even though she had confidence in her appearance, she stiffened as if frozen with fear, when she realized she would soon be put on display to her husband's greatest friends. She did gather enough presence of mind to smile as the trio came forward.
Mr. Perry was the first to greet them. “Ah, Lady Finchley, allow me to say that your beauty robs me of breath.”
She continued to favor him with a smile. “Thank you.”
Next, John presented Michael Knowles to her. Like Mr. Perry, he was dressed impeccably. Both men were fine looking, and both were in possession of nearly black hair. Mr. Knowles was perhaps an inch or two shorter than Mr. Perry, but his slenderness made him appear the same height. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady, though I must say in the fifteen years I’ve known Lord Finchley, I’ve never been more envious.”
She did not know how to respond. Was he jealous that John had married a duke’s daughter, or was he jealous that John’s wife was so lovely? The last thing she wanted to do was to come off as conceited. A humble, “Thank you,” was her response. “I’ve been most anxious to meet John’s dear friends.”
David Arlington nudged Mr. Knowles toward the stairs so he could face Margaret. He was as tall as Knowles but a great deal more muscular. Like the others, he was possessed of agreeable looks. "I would say your loveliness robs me of breath, my lady, but Perry has already said that. I'd tell you how jealous I am of Finch, but Knowles beat me to that, too. Therefore, allow me to say that it is an honor to be invited here tonight to make your acquaintance." He then took her hand and actually pressed his lips to the glove. Their eyes locked for just a second before he moved on.
Her heart beat erratically. She was uncommonly embarrassed over the intimacy of Mr. Arlington kissing her hand. She was accustomed to men brushing the air over her hand with mock kisses, but never before had the kisses been the real thing. Even her husband had never taken such liberties!
As there was a brief lull in the guests, her thoughts stayed on John's friends. How curious that all four of them were possessed of brown eyes. Though all of them were handsome, the other three could not compare to John.
* * *
"You, my dear grandson, will be expected to lead your wife onto the dance floor for a waltz the first dance of the night."
John's stomach dropped in the same way it did when he lost five-hundred quid to Lord Bastingham with one turn of a pasteboard. How mortified he would be to humiliate himself in front of the one-hundred-and-fifty people Grandmere had invited here tonight.
Even worse, what if he stepped upon Maggie's dainty feet? At two and twenty, she would have been dancing at balls and assemblies for at least three years. No doubt, she was a graceful, accomplished dancer and had danced with dozens—if not hundreds—of men who were very light on their feet. Would his inferior dancing embarrass her? What if his ineptitude repulsed her? He already had so many other vices to prejudice one against him.
He turned to her and drew a breath. "Be forewarned that my dancing begs improvement. I just pray I don't tread upon your feet."
She smiled up at him, a much warmer, more spontaneous smile that she'd directed at that damned Arlington when he'd made a cake of himself smushing his lips to her hand. "Don't spare it a thought. I assure you my feet have been trod upon many a time, and I shan't mind if you do."
He recalled what she'd said that first day she'd come to him to propose they act like a man and wife. She'd said, "
We'll be true and loyal friends to one another
." At this moment, he realized they
had
become true and loyal friends. She did not cast judgment on him. She accepted him for who and what he was.
He took her hand and lightly pressed a kiss to the back of it—something he had never done before. "You're too kind, my dearest." The
my dearest
he threw in for his grandmother's sake, as she still stood beside them, staring affectionately at them as if they were the king and queen. "I daresay no one will be watching my steps when my wife's loveliness will draw everyone's attention."
A few minutes later the orchestra struck up a waltz, and he turned to Maggie. "It will be my honor to dance with you."
He was exceedingly nervous as they moved onto the dance floor, all eyes on them. When they reached the center of the wooden dancing surface, he settled one hand at her waist, then clasped her hand with his other. As they came closer, he was pleasantly suffused with her sweet rose scent. "I know you'll make me look as if I know what I'm doing," he said as they began to dance.
At first he was self-conscious over his moves, over the way he held her, over the possibility he might make a complete ass of himself. He could not help but be struck immediately over how gracefully she moved. She danced so smoothly and with such practiced ease, he did not have to concentrate on what he was doing. It was not long before she made him forget his nervousness by engaging him in conversation. "I am so happy to no longer be a spinster, to have to stand up with every eligible man who asks."
He recalled her telling him of how heartily sick she was of being courted by fortune hunters. Even though he had happily accepted her generous dowry, she at least knew he had not courted her for her fortune. Which in an odd way made him feel absolved of at least one misdeed. Of course, he hadn't courted her at all.
Yet now here they were.
Married
.
The word still rankled him. But she did not. "It's a great loss to all the unmarried men in the
ton
that it was my good fortune to wed you."
"You will embarrass me, my Lord, with your flattery." While other coy misses might pretend to be embarrassed at flattery, Maggie was sincere.
He could not discuss unmarried men and not think of his friends. He was pleased that the three of them saw Maggie as she looked tonight, pleased that they praised her. But that damned Arlington had carried it too far! John would have to speak to him.
It occurred to him that because his friends knew his and Maggie's was not a regular marriage, those friends might get it in their heads that Maggie was available for their . . . their attentions! The very thought made him angry. Yes, indeed, he would have to speak to Arlington.
She looked up at him with shimmering eyes, light from three huge chandeliers illuminating her face. "I am happy to be Lady Finchley."
He was happy that she was happy. But he was not happy that she was Lady Finchley. He had never wanted a wife.
Never.
Would the day ever come when he was comfortable with the notion that he was a married man?
He had to own that if one must be married, one could not find a sweeter mate than Maggie. He squeezed her hand. "Given all my faults, that is very good of you to say."
"Oh, but you've told me not to believe the scandalous things that are written about you in the newspapers."
"Daresay that's excellent advice."
A moment later she said, "Your friends could not have been nicer to me."
A bit too nice. "You have bedazzled them."
She giggled. "I've never been accused of bedazzling a man before."
"That's because it's the kind of praise whispered behind one's back. Few admirers would admit to the bedazzler that they were bedazzled."
"I rather like the notion of being a bedazzler."
"Well, Lady Bedazzler, I suppose you'll have to stand up with each of them tonight. I should warn you. There's not a skilled dancer in the lot."
"You put too much importance upon dancing skill. I know of no lady who's swayed by something as shallow as that." She shrugged, sighing, as she looked up at him. "May I suggest you stand up with Caro?"
He stiffened. "I suppose good breeding would prevent her from turning me down, though I know your sister wishes me to Coventry."
"That's not true." She peered up at him with a mock pout. "It's your mission to
bedazzle
my sister."
"A pity your brother cannot be bedazzled!"
"Did you not hear him say that marriage must wonderfully agree with me? It was Aldridge's stiff way of welcoming you."
"Would that it were- - -" His step abruptly halted. By God, he'd crushed her foot beneath his. She winced but said nary a word. He peered down at her with concern. "Have I hurt you?"
She shook her head.
She was probably being polite. "Are you certain?"
"I've had much fatter men than you accidentally tread on me and have yet to suffer a broken bone."
"I shall have to call them out."
His comment caused them both to laugh.
The sweet tones from the violins were fading away. The dance would soon be ended. "I must tell you what an uncommonly good dancer you are," he said.
She giggled. "You, my Lord, would not know if one was
uncommonly
good at dancing or not, given that dancing has never been a skill you exercise."
She had him there. "Perhaps I shall poll my friends—after they dance with you—to see how they would rate your dancing abilities."
"I beg that you don't."
They stopped when the music trailed off. He was vaguely aware that he would much rather remain dancing with Maggie than have to move about the chamber speaking to all these boring people, most of whom were married. He offered her his arm and patted her hand when she settled it upon his sleeve.
Even before they had cleared the ballroom floor, Arlington approached Maggie. "I shall be prostrate if you do not do me the goodness of standing up with me, my lady."
Her gaze went from the worshipful Arlington to John.
"Since it is NOT to be a waltz," John said, glaring at his friend. "I will allow you to dance with my wife."
Arlington regarded John from beneath an arched brow, his lips curved into a smirk. "Are you saying I'm not to waltz with Lady Finchley?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
Arlington started to chuckle, then offered his arm to Maggie.
John sighed. Now was as good a time as any to do his duty to that abrasive Lady Caroline. He strode to where she was standing with the Duke of Aldridge, who at present was smothering his attentions on his duchess. What a different man he appeared in his wife's presence! All his rigidness melted when he was solicitously hovering over his adored wife.
John was having a devil of a time remembering how all these people were related. Duchess Elizabeth Aldridge was a younger sister to Lord Haverstock. Now John had finally gotten that straight. Lady Lydia Morgan was another of Haverstock's sisters, which would make Morgie a brother-in-law to the duchess. After a moment's thought, John determined that Maggie was not related to Morgie by blood. Nor was she related to the Marquess of Haverstock, not that Maggie put much store in blood relation. She had stressed that she was almost as close to the duchess as she was to her birth sisters.
A pity he wasn't about to dance with the duchess. She was much nicer to him than Maggie's sister. Perhaps he should attempt to take his wife's advice and try to bedazzle Caro. But how did one go about trying to bedazzle someone?
There was little opportunity for him to speak with Lady Caroline (which he thought a very good thing, given her aversion to him). The dance for which he claimed her was a set where they mostly stood about in longways. That much he could handle quite well. But when it came time for their turn to gracefully move down the pair of facing rows of fellow dancers, he became nervous again after he drew Maggie's sister's hand into his. It was as if he'd been seized with amnesia. He could not remember a single step. That's what came from lack of practice.