He Was Present Tonight

She inclined her head, struggling to keep her emotions at bay. "Hate is a strong word."

"And yet not strong enough to convey the feelings you harbour against him." She looked away, shaken that he could see through her. "Did he pursue you with dishonourable intentions?"

"No!" She wished it had been her. He should have pursued her so.

"Were you abandoned at the altar?" He threw his cigar to the ground and crushed it.

She exhaled deeply. "Please, Your Grace, It was nothing of the sort. Believe me." His hoarse voice, rather than annoy her with the badger of questions like the morning before, appeased her for he wasn't a sycophant trying to please. And why should he try to please her? He was higher than her in wealth, status and in every possible way.

When she lifted her head, he was walking closer, she oddly stepped back, unsure of the reason for her action. He stopped and said. "I am intrigued. What was it?"

"Please, Your Grace, I mean no disrespect, but I would rather not dwell on that at the moment." She clenched her hands and exhaled, looking over the vast garden. "The night is too beautiful for such useless thoughts." She continued. "Besides, his sister is to be your wife. I should watch my tongue."

He nodded but continued to look her in the eyes as though searching for the reason she was so against Cossington. He would never find them, of that, she would make sure. The silence was suffocating, his look, consuming. She couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't blink, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. "I should return to my family, they must be worried by now."

"Hmm." He agreed with a grunt but stepped even closer. She moved back instinctively. He came closer again and Beth responded in the same way. What was he playing at? "You seem guarded around me, especially after coming to the knowledge of who I truly am." That was a given, anyone would be wary around a man, especially one with power. The wrong thought could ruin her and her family.

And he was a man! If anyone should come upon them as they stood together in the low light, she would be ruined. Beth did not care for it, but her family would be disgraced. Lucy and Gwen would find it difficult to marry. But she could never tell it to him.

"You are over thinking, Your Grace."

He stepped even closer again. "Earlier, you rested on the railing, but distances away." He had noticed? Beth swallowed, hard. His voice caused goosebumps to rise on her skin and she shivered. It was the cold breeze. She tried to convince herself. "Don't tell me he tried to have his way with you." The Duke whispered.

Shocked, she refuted. "No! No. I promise it wasn't that." Her voice lowered. She stepped back and he followed. When her lower back hit the railing, Beth found herself trapped between the man and the iron. She was tense; her lips slightly opened to allow whatever air that could pass through. Quickly, she said. "I don't want to speak another word on the topic." He simply stared, having her at a disadvantage, for she couldn't see him as much as he could see her. "If you would please excuse me, my family must wonder about my whereabouts."

As soon as the words were spoken, his hand found her left cheek. His left hand moved to hold onto the railing, trapping her even more. "You have such beautiful lips." He whispered, more to himself than her. Rooted to the ground, Beth stood still as his thumb ran over her lips. She couldn't rebuke his actions nor step away from them. Again, she found herself almost breathless. All she could do was listen to her rapidly beating heart even as blood rushed to her cheeks. The pounding in her ears was deafening and she felt faint.

In her trance, she searched out his eyes, looking to see what they contained, what they could contain. When his eyes met hers, he paused, held her gaze for a moment, before stepping back, away from her. Turning away, he ordered. "Go. Hurry back to your family. Now!"

Beth didn't wait to be told again.

* * *

She found her Aunt by the door, as soon as she stepped back into the ballroom. Quickly, the older woman attacked with her questions. "Good gracious child, where have you been? You made me worried." She received a hug and a subtle once-over. "You look fine, but why are you flushed?" Her Aunt examined her face, turning her head from side to side.

"I'm fine Aunt." She gently dropped the older woman's hand from her face, smiling. "I needed some air."

Her Aunt tutted. "You should stay away from the cold air, dear. I think it is bad for your skin." She waved to a Lady across the room. "Don't forget how pale you are."

"Yes I think so too." She touched her flushed cheeks. They were warmer than necessary. "The cold air is very bad for me." she whispered.

"What was tha, dear?" Aunt Marrily inclined her head to her.

She shook her head. "Nothing Aunt. Absolutely nothing."

Lucy walked to them and whined. "Mother, my feet hurt, can we leave now? I think I've done enough dancing for one night." She hugged Beth, seeking comfort and Beth was all too ready to give her as much as she wanted. From Beth's arms, she continued. "I cannot dance anymore, and I think Gwen has had her fair share for tonight, like Beth."

"Nonsense! You can't ever have enough dancing." Aunt Marrily rebuked.

Lucy scoffed. "On the contrary Mother, you can have enough of it, because I have, at least for tonight." Careful not to anger the unruly mass, Beth began to stroke Lucy's hair, not minding that they stood among noblemen and women.

Aunt Marrily waved her daughter off. She turned to Beth. "Now, while you were gone dear, Sir George asked after you, I think he seeks another dance or to woo you." The excitement in her Aunt's eyes was the equal of the horror in hers.

"I hope not," Her hand stopped its movement over Lucy's hair, "For I cannot listen to another tirade of how unfair being the second son is, like I had a say in the matter."

Lucy laughed.

"Shh, don't be rude." Aunt Marrily rebuked, amused.

She smiled. "I can only be rude around you."

Her Aunt smiled back. "And I love you every day." She turned to the dance floor. "See how much fun Gwen is having dancing."

Lucy observed. "She looks pained, Mother."

Aunt Marrily turned sharply. "The only pain is me running around, trying to woo men for you three." She sounded angry, but they both knew it was staged.

Just then, Uncle Fitzwilliam stepped out of the Brandy room and made towards them the moment he saw them. Immediately he was within earshot, Lucy suggested. "Go dance with Father, I'm sure he would be overjoyed." She turned to her Father and hugged him briefly. Looking at his face, she asked. "Won't you like to dance with Mother?" She was begging.

He gently kissed the crown of her head, minding the ribbon. "Bless you child. Come, my Lady, we have got some catching up to do." Without waiting for her affirmation, he held her hands, kissed her knuckles and her cheeks, much to the mortification of Lucy and Beth.

Her Aunt blushed. "Oh Fitzwilliam, you are impossible." Still smiling, she agreed. "Alright, one dance with your Father, then we say goodnight to the Dowager Duchess." She told them.

Lucy's smile was bright. "Absolutely Mother. I love you."

She made a face at them as her husband pulled her to the dance floor. A tired but beady-eyed Gwen wave subtly at them. Lucy waved her over. A bit puzzled, she nodded at them. Turning back to Lord Claymoir, she said something to which he nodded and kissed her knuckles in farewell. Gwen walked to them bowing at gentries as she did. "We leave as soon as Mother and Father finish dancing and bid goodnight to the Dowager Duchess." Lucy informed her upon arrival.

Gwen was delighted. "I'm happy to hear that."

"But you were having a lovely evening."

She sighed. "All good things must end, besides Lord Claymoir promised to send me a note."

Lucy hugged her. "You must be excited then." They giggled. "I can't wait to see what he writes to you. If he asks you to visit, will you?"

"I will." They held hands and squeaked as low as they could.

Beth fought the urge to scoff, even more eager to put the night behind them. She searched the crowd for no one in particular, but was disappointed to not find the Duke in it. The Dowager Duchess stood afar off, a dark-haired woman to her left. She knew instantly that it was Lady Cossington. The resemblance to the Viscount of Sorway was uncanny. It didn't matter to her, she told herself. All she wished was to not come in contact with Lord Cossington, and to finally depart from the ball.

Less than an hour later, they stepped into their carriage, after her Uncle and Aunt thanked the Dowager Duchess for a wonderful gathering. Gwen was glad upon the promise of a note from Lord Claymoir. Lucy was tired but satisfied and Aunt Marrily, happy with them. She wished she could share their joy but her confusion laid in its way. Still she held up a smile for their sakes and for that moment, all was well.

No matter how hard she squinted her eyes, the night made it impossible to see afar off, the bright moon couldn't illuminate everything. Beth pressed her head to the window and closed her eyes, hoping to forget the man she had conversed the night away with; trying in vain to forget the feel of his hand on her face and on her lips. She resisted the urge to run her thumb over her lips. He had some nerve, standing so close to her and touching her without permission. How insolent!

No! She screamed in her head. She would think no more of it. It was a wonderful night she had enjoyed and it was over. All thoughts were left behind at Carlisle Crest, and that is where they would remain. Then she heard her Aunt's voice. "It was a shame no one saw the Duke tonight. He was not in attendance." She froze. He was in attendance. She said to herself. She had seen him.

"How strange." Aunt Marrily muttered.