As a girl, she had been one in his legion of admirers.
Now she was his worshipper.
"I shall wait to claim my beautiful wife for the first waltz of the night," he murmured into her ear as their family lined up against a wall and watched a country set that was in progress.
Beautiful wife
. Many times he'd told her she was lovely, but she did not think he had ever before referred to her as beautiful. She felt as if she had grown a foot taller under his praise.
The chamber was quite full—though not yet, she thought, at capacity. Already the heat was coating the dancers with a fine sheen of perspiration, and she found herself unfurling her fan and putting it to use. Her gaze swung up to the ceiling where two massive crystal chandeliers ringed with blazing candles gave off even more heat.
It suddenly became clear to her that she and her husband were drawing a great deal of attention. Several times she'd heard Philip's title mentioned. At first she was inordinately pleased. This was, after all, the first time her husband had appeared at a public function with her since they married.
Then she heard the name she dreaded most.
Savatini
.
Was the Contessa here? Her heartbeat roared. Even though he had quickly recovered, she remembered the look of shock on Philip's face the moment he learned she was coming here tonight. Had he come home to change for the evening in order to meet the Contessa on the Wentworths’ dance floor?
Even though her husband had not married her for love, she had difficulty believing a man as fine and noble as Philip would publicly flaunt a mistress.
Mistress
. The very word sickened her. She fleetingly thought she would gladly trade the title of duchess to be the woman who slept in Philip's arms each night.
She knew not what the Contessa looked like, other than the fact she was possessed of great beauty. As a young girl, the Italian noblewoman had been married to an aging Count. Just this week Elizabeth had learned that Count had died. Elizabeth's gaze circled the room, casually at first. Then she was certain the dark-haired beauty in the stunning black lace dress must be the Contessa. Across the room from each other, their eyes met. And held. Elizabeth's pulse thundered.
She is possessed of the same kind of beauty as Anna
. Extraordinary beauty.
Then Elizabeth's gaze snapped away. Her fingers dug into her husband's palm for they still held hands.
The first complete set after they arrived, he stood up with Clair. Other young men claimed Caro and Margaret, then Richie arrived with Captain Smythe. She was sorry to see the captain and was preparing herself to refuse to stand up with him when he presented a courtly bow to a pretty young blonde, and the two of them were gliding onto the dance floor. It occurred to Elizabeth that Captain Smythe's partner's hair was the same shade as her own. She would be most grateful if he could transfer his affections to the comely lady.
Richie strolled across the chamber to keep her company. "I see you're being chaperon to all the duke's unmarried sisters," Richie said as he came to stand beside her and peruse the dance floor. "How novel! The Duke of Aldridge attends. To what do we owe this honor?"
She was unable to voice her opinion that he had previously planned to meet the Contessa Savatini here tonight. She merely shrugged.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'm only dancing with my husband tonight."
"Yet your husband is being the gallant." His gaze swung to the beautiful woman in black.
"Indeed he is, though I daresay he's prodded by a guilty conscience."
Richie grinned. "Lady Clair is a most graceful dancer, is she not?"
His comment pleased Elizabeth. She was beginning to believe that Clair was falling in love with Richie. How wonderful it would be if he too was attracted to her.
The trembling that had thundered through her subsided when she glanced to the door as Morgie and Lydia, accompanied by Anna and Haverstock, strolled into the chamber. "Our family is certainly going to be well represented tonight."
Elizabeth could not remember a time in her life when Lydia's presence was not comforting. For Lydia was not only her eldest sister, she also treated her younger siblings with the loving affection neither of their parents were capable of showing.
Elizabeth's gaze swung from Lydia to Anna. There had never been a time when Anna's beauty did not dazzle, but tonight she glowed. If anything could reduce this veil of melancholy the Contessa's presence had thrown over Elizabeth, it was the circle of her loved ones. "How happy I am to see you! As you can see, I've been deserted."
Their gazes went to the dance floor where the duke and his sisters all stood in the longway with hands clasped. Lydia faced Elizabeth, rolling her eyes. "I am well aware that if you have no dancing partner, it is by your own choice." Her voice lowered. "I daresay you are so besotted over that husband of yours you won't dance with another."
Elizabeth had never been able to hide her emotions from her eldest sister. Morgie was as besotted over that sister as Elizabeth was over Philip. He stood at Lydia's side, his hand possessively cradling her elbow and glaring across the dance floor. His brows lowered, and he spoke in a low voice to his wife. "The devil take it! The Contessa Savatini has some cheek. Can you believe she's showing her loathsome self in the same room as . . ." He eyed Elizabeth, saw that she was watching him, and clamped shut his mouth. "My, my, my dear. Have I told you how lovely you look in that fetching green?"
Lydia smiled at her husband. "Oh dearest husband of mine, this dress is not green."
Morgie's brows lowered. "Is it not?" He looked dejected.
"No, love. It's blue. Azure actually."
"I'm not blue. Not even my eyes."
Lydia giggled. "I daresay you thought I said
as you are
instead of
azure
!"
"Did you not?"
"Azure, my dearest, is the colour of a body of water. As opposed to cerulean, which is a blue the colour of the skies."
"Bloody glad I am I didn't have to study watercolours. The demmed vocabulary is worse than Latin!"
"My brother says you were a tolerable Latin student. Not as easy for you as mathematics, of course. And," Lydia looked up at her husband, "You do dance with perfection."
"I mean to claim you for the next set."
"As I mean to claim my marchioness," Haverstock said to Anna.
Anna's shimmering, almond-shaped eyes met her husband's, and she nodded. She and Haverstock still joined hands—as Philip had done with her before the first set. How she longed for a waltz and the opportunity to feel herself in his arms once more.
She sidled up to Anna, who was radiant in a snow white gown. The contrast of the bright white with her rich dark hair was stunning. Perhaps because her mother had been French, Anna was possessed of the most unerring sense of fashion Elizabeth had ever seen. And the Ponsby sisters were touted among the most fashionable women in all the Capital. "I haven't seen you looking so well in many, many months."
Anna's spectacular smile displayed teeth that perfectly matched the white of the gown and were as even as they were white. "It is because I am so very happy."
Elizabeth's heavy heart instantly lifted. "That can mean only one thing, my dearest sister! You must be increasing!"
Haverstock had stayed next to his wife throughout the conversation. Both he and Anna—each of them beaming—nodded at once.
This promptly sent Elizabeth into tears. She was truly happy for Anna and Haverstock but was aware that her own unhappiness accounted for a portion of the tears. "This is. . ." Sniff. Sniff. "The best news I've heard in a very long time. I'm so happy, I am making a cake of myself."
Before the end of the current set, Philip came rushing up to her. "What's the matter? Are you all right?"
Elizabeth was touched that he he'd been watching her while he danced, touched that he terminated the dance to come to her. She offered him a smile. "They're tears of joy. My brother and his wife have a wondrous announcement." She eyed Haverstock.
"You, Aldridge," Haverstock said, "can be the first to offer my beautiful wife and me felicitations upon a forthcoming addition to our family."
Philip's gaze swung from one to the other. "That is, indeed, very good news, and I shall be honored to be the first to offer felicitations."
Just having her husband near comforted Elizabeth. And when his hand rested at her waist, she could have swooned.
Behind her, Richie asked Clair to stand up with him the next set.
"I pray you do not abandon me as my last partner did," Clair said in a lighthearted voice.
Richie chuckled. "Your brother was merely a concerned husband, but I vow
not
to come rushing if the duchess erupts into tears again."
The next set turned out to be Elizabeth's longed-for waltz. Her heartbeat accelerated when Philip turned and peered down at her. "I believe this is our dance."
She waited until they were dancing where no one was close enough to listen. "I've missed you."
His hand tightened at her waist. "As I have missed you."
"I have difficulty believing that."
"Because I've been a wretched husband."
"Don't say that. You've just had many other things occupying you." She paused as a she thought of something. Something different about him. "When you first entered my chamber this evening I thought at first—before Clair came—that you might have good news to report."
He was silent for a moment.
Her chest constricted. Was he going to tell her he was in love with Contessa?
"I am amazed," he finally said, "over the depth of the connection between us. How could you know me so well that you knew I have been relieved of my most pressing duty?"
"You solved the cipher!"
A smile tweaked at the corners of his mouth. "You are not supposed to know about the nature of my work at the War Office."
"You're changing the topic. Pray, tell me, did you solve the cipher all by yourself, or did my brother make contributions?"
"Hang it all, Elizabeth, you're trying to make me boast."
His humility was another attribute of this man she'd wed. Just another reason why she loved him so madly. "You did solve it without anyone's help, did you not?"
"Just this afternoon, as a matter of fact."
"And you came straight away to share the news with me! This is thrilling. Now we'll be able to be together more."
Her husband stiffened. He made no response.
It then occurred to her that he had come home merely to change clothing so he could meet the Contessa at this ball. He had not accounted for the fact his wife and all his family had agreed to attend the same fete.
She only then allowed her gaze to swing to the woman in black. Ogling men surrounded the Italian beauty, but she only had eyes for one person: she watched Elizabeth, her large dark eyes malevolent.
Elizabeth's gaze flicked away.
Her husband drew in a breath. "There are times, my dearest wife, when things are not as they seem. You must always remember that."
He spoke in riddles. "Whatever can you be talking about?"
"Allow me to say that my greatest joy of this day is not that I broke the cipher. It is that at long last I can waltz with my wife."
Those persistent tears returned to her eyes as she clutched harder at him.
* * *
During the musicians' short break following the waltz, Philip was stoking himself for the single act Angelina demanded, the single act that was sure to humiliate the only woman he had ever loved.
When he saw the musicians return to their seats, he turned to Elizabeth. "Pray, excuse me. I see an old friend I am compelled to stand up with."
His heart hammering, he turned his back on his wife and strode directly across the dance floor to the evil woman in black.
The Contessa's red-stained lips lifted into a smile as he came to stand before her. She offered her hand, and he held it as they went to join the other dancers. They stood side by side, awaiting the music.
His furtive gaze lifted to allow him to see his wife. Her face had blanched, a stricken look on it. Then a gush of tears came, and she spun around, racing from the chamber, sobbing.
Had a knife plunged into his chest, he did not think he could experience a more searing pain than he felt at that moment.
He'd never wanted to have to choose between hurting his sister or hurting his wife, but now he knew that nothing was more important to him than Elizabeth. He didn't even know if she loved him, but he knew he had to unburden his heart to her.
His eyes met the Contessa's, who had been watching Elizabeth. "Are you satisfied now?"
"Yes."
"I have complied with your every request, but I can do so no longer." With those words, he stormed away from her, crossing the ballroom in a straight line to the door. The closer he got to the door, the swifter he moved. He had to catch up with his most cherished wife.
He raced down the stairs, and when he reached the entry corridor he saw Lydia assisting his wife with her cape. As he drew near, Lydia saw him first and glared, anger flashing in her eyes.
Then Elizabeth's gaze lifted. God but it hurt to see her like that! Her eyes were red, her face blotched with tears. She spun away, as if to hide her face from his view.
He spoke to Lydia. "I beg that you leave me to speak privately with my wife."
Lydia nodded and went to move away, mumbling under her breath. "Damn you, Aldridge!"
He rushed to Elizabeth and clasped both her hands. She tried to pull away, and the cape slipped from her shoulders. He stooped to pick it up. Then, his eyes never leaving hers, he came to his feet, gently placed it around her, and drew her into him, his arms closing tightly around her.
Only one thing could hurt her this much. His heart soared as he allowed himself to believe that the angel he married must be in love with him.
It was as if the heavens had opened up to admit his tortured soul. It was as if a brilliant light brightened the darkest night. It was as if all the happiness in the world had been heaped upon his unworthy shoulders.