“Aunt?” Claire couldn’t remember meeting his aunt.
“His aunt and uncle live at his estate, I believe, and he is very close to them.”
“Good evening, Claire.”
“Good evening, Daniel.” Claire smiled as the Duke of Stratton approached. He instantly slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. Their marriage had had a tumultuous beginning, yet it had grown into something that was the envy of many, and the birth of their daughter had only strengthened those bonds.
“We were just discussing Simon’s devotion to our daughter, darling.”
“Yes. It’s an amazing thing, really, considering he usually has no time for anyone but himself.”
Claire and Anthony had grown up with Daniel, and for many years they had been close, until the death of her brother when, distraught, she had turned her back on everyone. It had taken Eva stepping into both their lives to bridge the gap between them. “As he’s your dearest friend, your grace, one wonders how you speak of your enemies,” she said, enjoying teasing the man who had once walked over the hills of her home for hours, whilst they endeavoured to find a tree tall enough to climb so they could see London.
Daniel Stratton was a big, handsome man. He was far more serious than his friend Lord Kelkirk, yet he, too, had stirred passion in many women, both married and not.
“It never pays to let Simon know you care for him or he takes advantage of you, Claire,” the duke said. “And now, if you will excuse us, I am going to dance with my wife.”
“Of course.”
Claire watched Daniel lift Eva’s hand to his lips before placing it on his arm. Eva’s smile was soft as she looked up with her husband, and Claire could almost feel the love that flowed between them. She wanted that–a love so strong that you felt what the other half of you felt. Pain, happiness–your life was so entwined in another’s that to be parted was almost too much to bear. She saw Eva look up at Daniel, saw them share a secret smile as he swung her into his arms. Sighing, Claire turned away. They had ruined her with their love. Now she refused to settle for anything less.
Looking up, she saw him then–Lord Kelkirk–making his way through the horde of guests, stopping occasionally when someone talked to him. She supposed he was a good-looking man. It was the hair, of course–the black threaded with silver. It made him stand out from the men around him. The fact that he was tall and had a big strong body helped, too. Clothes seemed to sit on him effortlessly, and he carried himself with a natural elegance that made a person look–especially if that person was a woman. Not her, of course. Claire and Simon had drawn swords long ago and merely tolerated each other for the sake of their friends. However she was a woman, so she occasionally did look.
He wore charcoal this evening. His jacket fit him to perfection. His waistcoat was silver and blue, and with his white shirt and neckcloth, she supposed he was one of the more stylish men in attendance. As if he knew she was studying him, his eyes swung to where she stood. Claire could feel the intensity of that grey gaze even if she could not see it from here. Desperate to escape before he reached her, she sought someone to save her from the upcoming confrontation. She would need all her wits about her when that moment came, and tonight was not that night.
“Mr. Rynell, I believe this is your dance?” Claire said, placing her hand on the sleeve of the man who was standing with a group of men to her right. He stared at her open-mouthed.
“I…is it? Of course it is.” He recovered quickly; she had to give him that. Offering her a strained smile, he then led her onto the dance floor.
“Miss Belmont, if I may have a word–”
“Not now, Lord Kelkirk. As you can see, I am to dance with Mr. Rynell.” Widening her smile as much as she could without causing herself pain, Claire sailed past Simon as he scowled at her, his grey eyes narrowing as she proceeded to chatter like a new debutante to her bemused dance partner.
She danced and danced and danced. Never taking a break, Claire simply went from one partner to another until she feared her feet had blisters on their blisters. Every time she thought to stop, she would see him, Lord Kelkirk, leaning on a wall, watching her intently. She even danced with Lord Pepper, who was preening over the interest his jacket was causing. The color was so bright, she could not look at it for too long or her head started to ache.
“You must tell me the name of your wife’s tailor, my lord,” Claire said, simply because she wanted to make sure to avoid her at all costs.
“I fear she is ours exclusively, my dear, and my darling wife would be distressed, were I to give the name of the establishment to anyone.”