Page 50 of Caught By the Ruthless Duke
Theodore’s glare could have frozen brandy. “Don’t.”
His friend’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m merely observing that the Duchess appears content. Surely that pleases you?”
“What would please me,” Theodore said through clenched teeth, “is if you’d concern yourself with your own wife and leave mine alone.”
John laughed. “Ah, but my wife is currently occupied with your Duchess, which leaves me free to torment you. Tell me, does watching her smile at other gentlemen always make you look as though you’d like to commit murder?”
Theodore’s response was a low growl that sent his friend retreating with raised hands and undiminished amusement. He knew John wouldn’t stay gone for long, and that he’d have to find something to do. Otherwise, he would spend the entire evening stalking Cressida around the damned ballroom until his eyes fell out.
He promptly turned and headed straight for a wine tray.
“Ah, where are you going, my good man?” John called after him.
Theodore fought the urge to request a duel right then and there, if only to shut the man up.
“Surely, you’re not running away from my stellar company, are you?”
Theodore huffed, “And what if I am?”
At those words, John chuckled, hurrying to catch up. “Now, don’t be like that, Ashmere. Alright, I will refrain from teasing you for the time being.”
Theodore rolled his eyes. “And I suppose I should get on my knees and thank you?”
John chortled. “You ungrateful scoundrel.”
Theodore couldn’t stop the smile from curving his mouth. This was better. At least, John’s presence was doing its job of distracting him from going after the one woman in this hall whose eyes made him want to throw all caution to the wind.
He was already so close to doing that, and with the scandal surrounding their marriage, he didn’t think it was very appropriate to put her in such a predicament again.
Then you should whisk her away from here. Why should other men get to look upon her? Especially in that dress?
Damn it. Even his best attempts at keeping her at arm’s length did nothing to assuage the possessiveness burning in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have gifted her that dress just yet.
Damnation!
“I need a drink,” he muttered to himself.
“The gown suits you beautifully, Your Grace.” Lady Pemberton’s smile held calculation beneath its warmth.
Cressida managed to return the warmth despite the whispers rippling through the ballroom. Heads turned when she passed. Fans snapped open. Conversations halted mid-sentence only to resume in hushed tones.
She tried to ignore it all. Tried to focus on Harriet’s steady presence beside her, on the music and the candlelight and anything except the weight of society’s judgment pressing against her skin.
“Cressida.” The voice cut through the air like sweetened poison.
Miss Oakley approached with measured steps, her pale blue gown pristine, her expression arranged in what someone less observant might have mistaken for friendliness.
Harriet’s hand tightened on Cressida’s arm.
“Miss Oakley.” Cressida refused to retreat.
“I simply had to offer my congratulations.” Miss Oakley’s smile remained fixed. “A duchess! And after all that dreadful business with the scandal. You must be so relieved.”
The barb landed precisely where intended.
Cressida felt heat creep up her neck, but kept her voice level. “I’m certain you’re as happy for me as I would be for you in similar circumstances.”
Miss Oakley’s eyes glittered. “Of course. Though I must admit, the circumstances were rather unusual, weren’t they? To go from one engagement to marriage with the Duke of Ashmere in a matter of days…”
