Carcel didn’t move. He kept his head resting on her, listening to the rapid beat of her heart.
"I am not perfect," he said muffled against the silk. "And I’m kind of terrified."
Ines paused. Her hand rested on the back of his head, cradling him.
" terrified?" she asked. "You? Carcel Anderson, Duke of Carleton?"
"I am terrified that sothing will go wrong," Carcel admitted. He turned his head slightly so he could look up at her, his chin resting on her chest. His eyes were wide and honest. "I am terrified that she will hurt you. If the plan fails... if she ruins your na..."
Ines looked down at him. She saw the fear behind the confidence. He wasn’t scared for himself. He was scared for her.
She smiled, a soft, reassuring smile. She moved her hand from his hair to his cheek, cupping his face.
"It won’t fail," Ines said firmly. "We wrote the ending, rember? You and I. That’s enough to have complete trust in your plan and I’m certain it won’t fail."
Carcel looked at her for a long mont. Then, he smiled. It was a small, tired smile, but it was genuine.
"You are right," he said. "Arthur Pendleton never writes a bad ending. Beside I have to enter the next phase of the plan."
Ines asked " Which is?"
" To be cordial with Priscilla. That’s the main reason I’m attending this gathering. " He said, looking at her. " If we are going to make her look crazy, we will have to start from being a little bit nicer to her so that people will think she mistook my kindness for love and beca obsessed which led to her attacking you." His eyes were asking permission. " I just need your permission to go ahead." He kissed her palm. " Should I?"
Ines hesitated for a while. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him. As a matter of fact, it’s Priscilla she doesn’t trust but he’s right. They need to play their part completely to co out with a good result.
She sighed then nodded.
Carcel smiled then sat up slowly, though he didn’t let her go. He kept her on his lap. He leaned in and kissed her, a slow, gentle kiss that tasted of promise.
"Stay here," he whispered against her lips. "Until we arrive. I need to hold you."
"I’m not going anywhere," Ines promised, wrapping her arms around his neck.
~ ••••• ~
The carriage rocked gently as it ca to a final stop. The sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones ceased, replaced by the muffled roar of music and laughter coming from the grand estate outside.
Inside the carriage, the bubble of private intimacy popped.
Carcel lifted his head from Ines’s chest. He looked at her, his eyes dark and heavy with a mixture of desire and reluctance. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay in this dark, warm box with her forever, away from the prying eyes of London.
"We have arrived," Ines whispered, though she didn’t make a move to push him away. Her hands lingered on his shoulders.
Carcel let out a long sigh. He sat up, moving Ines gently back to the seat across from him. The sudden distance felt cold.
"A few strands of your hair is out of its style," Carcel murmured, a small smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his cravat. "If we walk in there looking disheveled, they will think we have been doing exactly what we wanted to do."
Ines blushed, her hands flying to her hair. She checked the pins, smoothing a few stray curls that had co loose during their embrace. She adjusted the bodice of her erald dress and fanned herself vigorously with the peacock feather fan to cool her heated cheeks.
"Do I look presentable?" she asked, patting her cheeks.
Carcel looked at her. He looked at the flush of her skin, the brightness of her eyes, and the slight swell of her lips from his kisses. She looked more than presentable.
"More than presentable," Carcel said.
He squeezed Ines’s hand one last ti before the footman opened the door.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Ines took a deep breath.
"Ready," she whispered back.
Carcel stepped down first. He turned and offered his hand. Ines placed her gloved fingers in his palm and descended the tal steps. The gravel crunched beneath her silk slippers.
They walked up the grand staircase toward the entrance. Ines held her head high, her erald green dress shimring with every step. She felt the eyes of the other guests on them. She looked straight ahead.
At the top of the stairs, the butler stood waiting. He was a tall man with a silver tray.
"Your invitation, Your Grace?" the butler requested.
Carcel produced the cream-colored card from his coat pocket. The butler glanced at it, nodded, and then turned to face the crowded ballroom. He struck the floor with his heavy staff to demand silence.
"His Grace, the Duke of Carleton!" the butler bood. "And Lady Ines Hamilton!"
The announcent echoed through the hall. For a second, the chatter dipped. Heads turned. Fans stopped waving.
Carcel led Ines into the room.
Standing near the entrance, acting as the perfect hosts, were Alia and Evans.
Alia was radiant. She wore a gown of pale rose, and her face was lit up with genuine joy. She was one of the few people in the ton who actually seed to like Ines for herself.
As soon as she saw them, Alia rushed forward, abandoning her spot in the receiving line.
"Ines!" Alia cried out warmly.
She reached out and pulled Ines into a tight hug, disregarding the stiffness of formal etiquette. Ines stiffened for a mont, surprised, but then lted into the embrace. It felt good to be welcod so kindly when she felt so much danger.
"Alia," Ines said, smiling against the Countess’s shoulder.
Alia pulled back, beaming. She held Ines by the shoulders.
"Congratulations on your engagent, Ines," Alia said, her eyes shining. "I was so thrilled when I heard the news. I’m so happy you are going to be a part of our big family."
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