Page 49 of The Duke’s Hidden Runaway Bride

“After yesterday?”

“I was frightened.”

“So was she.”

“I know.” Josiah looked suddenly older. “She refused, but not as she did yesterday. I think I have nearly broken her courage, and I do not know how to give it back.”

“You cannot give it to her.”

“What can I do?”

“Believe her when she uses it.”

Josiah glanced towards the doors. “And if she cannot?”

Adrian had no answer to give him.

The musicians finished a country dance. Applause rose and faded, and conversation resumed with unnatural brightness.

Then the butler announced Lady Elise Maddox.

The room turned as one, conversation dying, as everyone waited to see if the disgraced heiress would show her face.

Elise entered first, slight and upright in iron-grey silk, her head held with the confidence of a duke’s daughter, the magnificent rubies Sir Rhys Maddox had given his wife glimmering at her throat. Miss Pettibone followed, beaming at the company as though London had gathered for her benefit. A ripple of indrawn breath moved ahead of them into the room.

Ophelia came last.

For one suspended moment, Adrian saw only her face.

She wore that unnaturally still expression he had seen so often in those first days at Plas Eira, the one he now recognised she wore to hide her fear. Yet her head was raised. Her gown was deep green, expensive silk but unadorned except for the gold at her wrists.

Shirin Sethna’s bangles shone beneath the chandeliers.

A whisper moved through the company like wind through grass. Ophelia heard it. Adrian saw her hear it.

She did not lower her eyes.

Lady Elise brought her to the receiving line. Lady Daventry’s gaze went straight to the bangles, and for a moment uncertainty crossed her face before her expression settled, unmistakably, into resolution.

She stepped forward.

“Miss James,” she said, clearly enough for those nearest to hear. “You are most welcome to Daventry House.”

“Thank you so much, Lady Daventry. I am deeply honoured.” Ophelia offered a respectful curtsey, and the room seemed to breathe again.

She looked across the ballroom and found him. He saw fear in her face, but he saw resolve as well. She had chosen, despite everything, to enter the light before she knew whether it would spare her.

Adrian did not rush to rescue her from the room’s attention. Instead, he gave her the same real bow he had offered in Wales when he first began to understand what it meant to see her.

Then he crossed the ballroom towards Ophelia James.

Chapter Eighteen

The whisper following her entrance had not died. It moved through the company in low currents, gathering around the deep green of her gown and the ornate gold at her wrists. Ophelia must have heard it, but she stood beside Lady Elise with her head raised, watching Adrian cross the room towards her, the crowd parting before him, fresh speculation springing up in his wake as they noted his purposeful direction.

Adrian stopped before her and bowed once again. “You came.”

“I said that I would.” Her smile was tight, not reaching her eyes.