Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(52)
The hundreds of candles in the three chandeliers in the ballroom sparkled on the sapphire-and-diamond betrothal ring on Arabella’s finger as he raised her hand to his lips. The surrounding murmur grew louder.
He spoke to Arabella and her mother in the politest of terms, knowing that their every word was being listened to even above the singing of the violins that sounded so clear and sweet from the musicians up on the balcony.
‘You are well, Mrs Marlbrook?’ he enquired and his gaze was intent upon hers. He gave her hand that was tucked within his arm a little squeeze as he led her and Mrs Tatton to a small collection of chairs that he had been keeping just for them. He wanted to know how she was bearing up to such pressure, for he knew that beneath that mask of cool tranquillity she would be worried.
He felt the return of the slight transient pressure of her fingers against the muscle of his arm. He gestured to a passing footman carrying a silver salver of filled champagne glasses and passed Arabella and her mother each a glass of champagne. They chatted for a little while, about the weather, about how she and her mother were enjoying London, about horse riding. And then he took Arabella and Mrs Tatton over to where the Prince of Wales was holding court and presented them.
The wave of whisperings and staring was passing right through the room. Dominic was looking forward to making the announcement. He watched Arabella and the prince together and knew that Prinny was giving her his royal approval. No one would dare question her respectability now. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement at the prince and saw Prinny give a nod back. A royal prince needed his allies every bit as much as a duke. And then Dominic signalled to the musicians to cease playing. It was time.
Arabella was so busy keeping an eye on her mother and guarding her conversation with the prince that she did not notice what was happening until the music stopped. A hushed chatter filled the silence.
Dominic’s ballroom was large and there must have been at least a hundred people packed within its glittering splendour. Arabella could see what seemed like the flicker of a thousand candles sparkling against the myriad of faceted crystal drops on the massive chandeliers. The ceiling, the top of the walls and the front of the balcony were decorated with the most pure and beautiful plasterwork. The walls themselves were painted a cool pale green, which lent the room an airy spacious feel. Above the massive fireplace, which thankfully had not been lit, was a huge looking glass that reflected the light from the chandeliers and made the room even brighter. The oak floorboards had been scraped and polished until they gleamed like a rich dark chocolate. Around the room were tables and chairs, and wall sconces that dripped with crystal in a fashion that mirrored their parent chandeliers. It was beautiful and elegant and most luxurious.
And then Dominic’s butler was ringing a small bell. ‘Pray silence your majesty, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. The Duke of Arlesford wishes to make an announcement.’
She heard the buzz of whispers go around the room. Arabella was standing with the Prince of Wales on one side and her mother on the other. Dominic was on the other side of the prince. Although most of the attention in the room was fixed on Dominic, she could see a few of the gazes upon herself. Every pair of eyes in the room was filled with question. Everyone wanted to know what was so important that the Duke of Arlesford intended making an announcementr.
And then Dominic took her hand and drew her over to stand by his side. And she saw the shock and surprise on some faces and the confirmation of guesses on others. His fingers closed around hers and she felt all of his support flowing through that warm touch.
Dominic began to talk, and her heart gave a little jump, her stomach a little jitter and she realised that this was it.
‘I would like to present to you all, Mrs Arabella Marlbrook.’
She could hear him talking and she stood there so still, so calm, facing that sea of faces as if she were the very proper, very respectable widowed Mrs Marlbrook whom Dominic was describing. He was still talking.
‘I am very happy to be able to tell you that Mrs Marlbrook has accepted my proposal of marriage. We are to be married as soon as matters can be arranged.’
Which would be in two months’ time, at the height of the summer, in Westminster Abbey, if all went according to plan. She would be a duchess, and Archie, his father’s son and heir to a dukedom. Her mother would never again go cold. Her son, never go hungry. There would always be enough money for food and medicines and coal. He had made her respectable again. He would make her his wife. But Arabella could not smile.
Dominic raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss against it. Every person in the ballroom began to applaud and she could see her mother smiling by her side, and she could see, too, the look in Dominic’s eyes when he looked at her—dark and possessive and filled with all they had not said to one another in the past two weeks. She forced herself to smile because it was what everyone was expecting. She smiled as she met the gazes of Dominic’s guests. Smiled sadly at the good will she saw in those faces because she knew, if they knew the truth, there would be nothing of good will there. And then her gaze passed over two faces that were not smiling.
One was the grey bearded man whom she had seen in Vauxhall on the night of the carnival—Lord Misbourne—and the other was a taller, younger, dark-haired man by his side. The younger man’s expression was filled with such coldness that it shocked her and sent a shiver down her spine. Arabella’s feigned smile was all the broader to hide her sudden unease.