Gillian cast a glance at her mother, who was sitting against the wall and chatting in an animated fashion with a group of matrons. “Yes, she’s happy to be back in town with her friends, and to see Grandmamma again. It was lovely at Fenfield Manor, but a bit isolating for her.”
“She’s happy that you’re happy,” Justine said. “That’s what’s truly most important to her.”
“And seeing all your enemies—and hers—get their comeuppance,” Griffin said. “There’s nothing more satisfying than a nice bit of social revenge.”
“No one understands that better than I do,” Gillian said, “but don’t tell my husband I said so. He would be appalled at my sad lack of character.”
“Leverton would be happy to exact revenge if anyone dared to insult his wife,” Griffin said. “He’s quite a changed man, thanks to you.”
“Yes, isn’t it lovely?” Gillian said cheerfully.
“What an exceedingly bloodthirsty family I’ve married into,” Justine said with a dramatic sigh. “Speaking of your husband, where is he? I haven’t seen him for at least a half hour. He usually sticks to your side like glue.”
“He was out in the hall talking to Dominic Hunter, last time I saw him,” Griffin said. “Dominic was no doubt congratulating himself on your successful marriage to Leverton.”
Gillian frowned. “What does Sir Dominic have to do with my marriage?”
“He’s the one who suggested I look you up when we traveled to the Continent,” Griffin said. He gently tugged one of her curls. “I would have done it anyway, pet. I’d been thinking about doing so for a long time.”
Justine nodded. “That’s very true. Griffin had been planning a trip to Sicily for ages.”
“Then why did Sir Dominic wish you to look me up?” Gillian asked.
“Because he’s an old busybody,” Griffin said. “I’ll tell you about it another time. Besides, I do believe I see your husband forging his way through the mob.”
“He’s hard to miss,” Justine said. “He’s taller than almost everyone in the room.”
“And handsomer,” Gillian said. As she did every time she saw Charles, she went a little weak in the knees. It was almost embarrassing the effect he had upon her.
“While we’re waiting for the Duke of Leverton to grace us with his august presence,” Griffin said, “shall I fetch you ladies another goblet of champagne?”
“None for me,” Gillian said. “Charles wants me to dance the waltz with him. If I drink too much, I’ll be sure to make a complete fool of myself. I’m not the most graceful of dancers, sorry to say.”
“As if he would care,” said Griffin. “The man is ridiculously besotted with you.”
“And is there anything wrong with that?” his wife asked with some asperity.
Gillian listened to their playful argument with half an ear as she watched her husband make his way over to join them. When their eyes met, a slow, seductive smile curled up the edges of his mouth.
“Hello, my love,” he said when he finally reached them. He took her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “I hope your rogue of a brother has been taking proper care of you in my absence.”
Gillian scoffed. “As if I need anyone taking care of me, especially in a silly old ballroom.” When Charles raised a brow, she gave him a sheepish smile. “Except for you, of course. That goes without saying.”
“Naturally,” her husband said wryly. “Now, I believe the orchestra is about to strike up a waltz, and I would very much like to claim my bride for this dance.”
Gillian took a deep breath and nodded. “Lead on, Your Grace.” In truth, she was a bit nervous. This was her first waltz in public, and she wanted Charles to be proud of her.
Clearly reading her mind, he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll always be there to catch you—whether you need me to or not.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “And I’ll always be there for you, too. I promise.”
He swept her into the waltz, spinning her in a joyful whirl. Gillian only stepped on his toes once.
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