“I have been longing to meet you.”
Clara returned the smile.
“I hope I shall not disappoint.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.”
The widow leaned closer.
“Is it true that you dressed as a housemaid to discover whether the duke possesses a temper?”
Clara felt Julian become still beside her.
She considered the question.
Then answered brightly.
“Yes.”
Lady Cecilia stared.
A ripple of silence spread among the nearby guests.
Julian turned toward Clara.
She continued.
“I had heard that His Grace was a formidable gentleman. I thought it wise to investigate before accepting a lifetime of his company.”
Lady Cecilia blinked.
Then laughed.
“Good heavens. And what did you discover?”
Clara glanced toward Julian.
“That he is perfectly capable of being unreasonable.”
The widow laughed harder.
Several guests joined her.
Julian inclined his head.
“I have never denied it.”
Clara continued.
“But I have also discovered that he can admit when he is mistaken, which is a considerably rarer accomplishment.”
The laughter softened.
Lady Cecilia looked between them.
Something passed through her expression.
Approval, perhaps.
Or recognition.
“Well,” she said warmly, “then I wish you both every happiness.”
She moved away.
Julian leaned toward Clara.
“You could have denied the story.”
“Why?”
“To spare yourself embarrassment.”
Clara looked at him.
“I did wear the apron.”
“Yes.”
“And I did deceive you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why should I be ashamed of the truth?”
He studied her.
“You are a very unusual woman.”
“Your Grace, that observation has been made so frequently that it is becoming tiresome.”
Julian smiled.
“Then allow me a different one.”
“What is it?”
He offered his hand.
“Will you dance with me?”
Clara looked at his outstretched hand.
Then placed hers within it.
“With pleasure.”
The first dance was a country dance.
It required movement, conversation, and sufficient attention to avoid colliding with other couples.
Julian had always disliked it.
He preferred the controlled formality of a minuet, where he could perform his duty without being forced into prolonged conversation.
Clara, however, danced with visible enjoyment.
She smiled at her partners, moved lightly through the figures, and occasionally met Julian's gaze with an expression that made him forget where he ought to stand.
At one point, he took the wrong place.
Clara stopped.
“Your Grace.”
“Yes?”
“You are supposed to turn.”
“I am aware.”
“Then why are you standing there?”
“I was distracted.”
“By what?”
He looked directly at her.
“You.”
Clara's cheeks warmed.
The music continued.
For a moment, she forgot the next figure.
Julian smiled.
“Miss Langley.”