Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(35)
He deserved nothing less.
James stepped forward. “The ball will begin in about ten minutes. Perhaps we should join the others, yes?”
Robert cleared his throat, his gaze moving to Simon. “Should we toast the engagement before we do?”
Simon stiffened at that question. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said softly, and left the room without another word.
Already guests were entering the ballroom at the end of the long hallway and he heard arrivals of other partygoers from the foyer. He drew in a long breath, set his shoulders back and strode down to join the party.
Meg’s cheeks hurt from the false smile that had been plastered onto her face for the past half an hour. A brave face, Emma called it, and her friend occasionally reached out to squeeze her hand and offer support as they stood together at the edge of the dancefloor with James at Emma’s side.
“So far I would call tonight a success,” James said, though Meg heard the faint tension in his tone.
She felt the same tension in herself. A success, it seemed, was to be measured in the fact that there had been no scandal and people were still speaking to her. A low bar to calculate by, indeed. Especially when she looked across the room and saw her fiancé standing alone.
He would not look at her.
Simon’s avoidance, which had begun the day after they made love, stung more than a lash could have. She would have preferred a physical blow at this point. At least that kind of wound presented a chance at recovery if it was treated. But this dragged-out distance that now seemed to loom up between her and Simon…
That was something else entirely. And the longer it went on, the more it permanently scarred her, scarred them.
Emma’s foot tapped beneath the hem of her gown, and Meg sent her a side glance. Once a wallflower, Emma had been reluctant to dance at first. But a few months of marriage to James and Meg knew the new duchess had grown very fond of spinning around in a quadrille or tucking herself into James’s arms for a waltz. Soon enough her growing belly would prevent her from doing either.
“You two should dance,” Meg said, waving them toward the floor. “You haven’t since the party began, and if we are pretending all this is normal and right, then you must behave as you would at any ball. With you two that means dancing so close you scandalize the Upper Ten Thousand.”
Emma blushed, but for the first time tonight, James grinned. “I do like to scandalize the Upper Ten Thousand when I can.”
Emma swatted him on the arm gently. “James!”
He caught her hand and drew her closer. “Come, Emma, let’s turn all their eyes on us, shall we?”
He smiled at Meg, then guided his wife away. Meg could see him murmuring to Emma, close to her ear, and Emma eyes went wide in response. True to his word, he held her far too close as the strains of the waltz began.
Meg sighed at the love they so easily displayed. They had overcome so much to have their moment, their future. She didn’t begrudge them that, but she was also more starkly aware of her own dire situation when she observed it.
“Good evening, Lady Margaret.”
Meg stiffened and turned toward the female voice that had said her name. Her frown deepened as she realized the person who had joined her was Sarah Carlton. She was the same girl who had danced with Simon earlier in the party, the girl Meg had been jealous of when she had no right. Judging from the sour look on her new companion’s face, it seemed the jealousy now cut both ways.
“Miss Carlton, isn’t it?” she asked, trying to strike a friendly, breezy tone.
The young woman nodded once and stepped up next to her, observing those on the dancefloor for a moment.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Meg asked, struggling to behave as she would normally.
Miss Carlton shrugged. “I was.”
“Oh,” Meg said, praying this wasn’t about to become a conversation about her. “Is there something I can do for you, since our hosts are currently dancing?”
Miss Carlton turned on her, eyes narrowing. Meg’s chest tightened at the look, for it was clear this woman’s ire was directed at her. And there could be but one subject.
The one she was trying hard to avoid.
“You had a fiancé,” Miss Carlton hissed, thankfully not too loudly. “A perfectly good fiancé who was a duke. I think an even richer duke than Crestwood, if my mother is to be believed.”
Meg clenched her fists at her sides. “You and I do not know one another well enough to be having this incredibly impertinent conversation.”
“I don’t care if it’s impertinent,” Miss Carlton said with a toss of her blonde hair. “Great God, is any man safe? Will you bore of the Duke of Crestwood soon enough and move on to another? Will you suck up all the eligible men in the countryside and leave none for anyone else?”
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” Meg snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Crestwood and I have been friends a very long time and—”
“Friends, my lady? Only friends?” the other woman said, dark and cruel implication dripping from the words.
Miss Carlton blinked, and Meg could see frustrated and desperate tears in her eyes. She didn’t know the woman well, but she remembered Miss Carlton was in a rather bad financial state. If she’d convinced herself that Simon had liked her when they danced, Meg could understand why she would feel something had been taken from her. Something Meg herself didn’t need.