The Duke I'm Going to Marry(109)

She was surprised, didn’t know how to respond.

She was glad that he was deeply, deeply in like with her.


***

“Well, how long are you going to deny it?” Lady Phoebe Withnall said, approaching Ian as he stood on the receiving line. The ball was under way, most of the guests having been announced. He and Dillie would soon open it officially with a dance and then mingle among the throng of guests. The Prince Regent would arrive later, and Ian was glad of it. He had something important to do and didn’t wish the royal appearance to distract him from his purpose.

He glanced at Dillie, who was practically leaping out of her skin with joy, for Lily and Ewan had just arrived and she’d spotted them making their way slowly up the long queue of guests. He turned back to Phoebe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dear boy, I’d smack you in the shins with my cane if you weren’t needed to open the ball. When are you going to tell her?”

“Stop glowering at me. I plan on telling her tonight.”

“You had better. Lady Eloise and I will be watching you.”

He raised Phoebe’s gloved hand to his lips and planted a light kiss. “I have no doubt.”

More guests came by—countless Farthingale relations, including all of Dillie’s sisters and their husbands. He watched Dillie break into a beaming smile as Lily and Ewan now reached them. They had come down from the Highlands for this affair, and although Dillie and her twin exchanged letters almost daily, she couldn’t contain her joy. She threw her arms around Lily and hugged her fiercely. Lily responded with affection and equal lack of restraint.

Ewan turned to him and laughingly shook his head. “The Chipping Way curse is powerful indeed. Och, I dinna think ye’d ever fall under its spell. Look at ye now. The duke who was never going to marry. You’re as well tamed as the rest of us.” He nodded toward Gabriel, Graelem, and Julian, who were standing beside their respective wives, Daisy, Laurel, and Rose, and seeming in no hurry to move away.

These rare creatures were known as happily married men. Never in his wildest imaginings had Ian thought to become one of them. But he was. He was also a monumental ass, taking all Dillie offered while holding back the one thing she yearned for most.

He waited until Dillie had greeted the last of the seemingly endless stream of Farthingales, and then took her hand and led her into the ballroom to officially start the ball.

Dillie blushed furiously as they stood in the center of the room, all eyes upon them. She was anything but cool and collected, and held his elbow in a death grip. “You can do this, sweetheart,” he said in a whisper of encouragement.

She let out a little eep. “I don’t think so. We ought to have practiced. Why didn’t we think to practice the waltz? Oh, crumpets! Eloise and Lady Withnall are staring at us.”

He took her into his arms, preparing for the dance. “Everyone’s staring at us.”

She eeped again as the first notes struck, now in obvious panic. “Don’t tell me that!”

“Very well, what shall I tell you? I know.” He guided her steps as the music started, but instead of whirling her in a circle around the ballroom, he whirled her across the floor toward the terrace.

Her eyes widened. “Ian, what are you doing?”

A murmur of confusion arose from the crowd as well, but he continued toward the open doors leading onto the terrace. Their guests began to follow.

“Ian?”

He grinned at her look of utter confusion, the delicate arch of her brow above her glorious, blue eyes, and the purse of her full, rosy lips. Dillie grew more beautiful by the day. She looked so beautiful even now in full, crimson blush. As for him, he knew exactly what he was doing. Indeed, this was the first time he was thinking clearly. Once out of the ballroom, he stopped waltzing and knelt before her, ignoring the music as the orchestra played on.

Dillie let out a soft gasp. “Everyone’s watching. You have to get up.”

He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’m a duke. I can do anything I please.” He glanced at the crowd of onlookers and saw Eloise and Phoebe poking their way through the doors to the front. “I can say anything I please.”

“Oh, no. Don’t say anything idiotic that you’ll regret.”

He laughed lightly and shook his head. “And what pleases me is... you. I love you, Dillie.”

She looked at him as though she might faint. The crimson blush on her cheeks had faded to chalky white, even against the torchlights. “I love you,” he repeated, rising to take her into his arms before her legs gave way. Fortunately, the crowd mistook his gesture and thought the way he embraced his wife quite romantic. In truth, Dillie was about to swoon and he meant to catch her before she fell and did herself harm.