Butlers, footmen, and maids were all scurrying about to put the final touches on each room. Dillie walked from one to the other, making certain the negus, lemonade, and champagne were in place in the refreshments room, that fresh biscuits were set out beside the punch bowls, and that Mrs. Mayhew—borrowed from her mother for the night—had supper under way for a crowd that might swell to five hundred at the height of the ball.
She gazed up as members of the orchestra began to tune their instruments. They were hidden in the ballroom’s balcony, behind a row of potted ferns. A glance at the ormolu clock on the entry hall table showed it was approaching eight o’clock. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I love you, Ian. I hope this party is a success.
Candles in the chandeliers, candelabra, and wall sconces were now lit, their red-gold flames shimmering against the crystal and silver fixtures. All appeared to be in glittering order. Felicity was at Daisy’s, happily spending the night in the care of Miss Poole and Ivy’s nanny. Dillie already missed having the little imp underfoot. Their townhouse had been far too quiet all day, even with all the upheaval of preparing for the ball.
Ian came up behind her and enveloped her in his arms. “You look beautiful, Duchess Daffy.” He planted a fat kiss on her neck.
“Ugh! You fiend, don’t you dare call me that in front of our guests.” However, she could never stay mad at Ian for very long, and certainly not now, for he looked devastatingly handsome in his formal garb, black jacket, waistcoat, and trousers contrasting with a crisp white shirt and tie. “Ashcroft did a nice job of dressing you.”
He turned her in his arms and cast a boyishly appealing grin. “And I hope you’ll do an even nicer job of undressing me after the ball. Promise you will, Duchess Daffy.”
She burst into laughter. “Stop calling me that, you wicked man. And don’t you dare call me that in front of Lady Withnall. I’ll never shake off the name once the old gossip spreads it about.”
“You’re in no danger from Phoebe. She likes you. Always has.”
Dillie shook her head and laughed again, surprised by his remark. Did he still consider Lady Withnall a friend? “That know-it-all is the reason you had to marry me. I’m sure she’s the one who tattled on us, who told the world you’d spent a week in my bed.”
His grin broadened. “I think it worked out rather well. Have I complained?”
“Well, no.”
“Nor will I ever. I’m not going to kick you out of my bed, even though you snore like a foghorn and always fidget like a kitten trying to curl up in just the right spot.” He leaned forward and planted another wet kiss on her neck. “I like having you beside me.” His grin faded slightly. “Sleeping next to me can’t be all that comfortable for you.”
She nodded, understanding what he meant, even though he tried to make light of the nightmares he sometimes had about his brother’s drowning—frightening dreams that left him in a cold sweat and gasping for breath. Those dreams had happened less often since their marriage, and only once this past month. But Dillie’s heart gave a little tug recalling the first time she’d witnessed him in the violent throes. He’d looked at her so hopelessly afterward, expecting her to be horrified and demand to be moved into separate quarters. She’d disabused him of the notion at once. “I love waking in your arms. I always love being in your arms.”
“I know,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I adore the way you respond to me. Ooh, Ian. Ooh, ooh, Ian, my powerful, irresistible stallion.”
“You are a fiend!” She burst into laughter again. “I’ve never called you any such thing. See, that’s why I’m still miffed at Lady Withnall. I’m stuck with you and have no way out.”
“Fine, be that way. But she didn’t start the rumor. As I said, she likes you. She’d never do anything to harm you.”
Dillie pursed her lips and frowned. “You keep saying that, but she hardly knows me.”
“She knows me. She befriended me when I was at one of the many low points in my life. She likes you because you had the presence of mind to fall in love with me. She likes you because I like you. I always have.”
Having Ian deeply in like with her wasn’t perfect. It would have to do for this evening. “If she didn’t start the rumor, then who did? I think we ought to find out.”
“No need. I already know.”
She gasped. “You do? Who did it? How long have you known? And why keep it from me?”
“I’ll tell you later. After the ball. Wipe that pretty pout off your face. Our guests are about to arrive.” He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “By the way, you look beautiful. Far prettier than the diamonds at your throat.” He kissed her again. “Or those dangling at your ears.” And another kiss. “Or those in your hair.” He sighed. “You’re so damn beautiful, you steal my breath away.”