It was all perfect. Everything was going to plan, exactly as he had hoped. He glanced at Amanda, who was greeting Lord Westcliffe, Marquess of Peningdale, the eldest son of the Duke of Castlemere. She looked so happy and was sending the Duke’s son coy, flirtatious glances, which were being received with enthusiastic smiles.
It was strange how a hairstyle could change a woman so radically, or was it due to Miss Regan’s influence? Had she said something to Amanda that had brought about this transformation from a young woman who always looked bored and sat in the corner as if she’d rather not be noticed, to someone who wanted to shine and be the centre of attention?
If she possessed a skill like that, he could see why her business was prospering. He turned back to greet another couple, who, prior to the announcement of his engagement to Lady Cecily, would not have deigned to attend a social occasion hosted by someone as lowly as him.
They swept past him and he looked back at his radiant sister, still sending smiles at Lord Westcliffe as she absentmindedly greeted more guests. There was no doubting that a few hours in Miss Regan’s company had had a positive effect on his sister. But wasn’t that what he had paid her for. She had simply done her job and he should be giving it no more thought than he did to the people who had decorated the ballroom for tonight’s occasion, or the musicians waiting patiently for his signal to begin playing. Miss Regan had done the job he had paid her for, nothing more. That was the only reason she was here in this house and he would give her no more thought this evening.
He flicked a gaze around the room. At his engagement party she had secretly watched from the minstrels’ gallery. The ballroom at Lockhart House did not possess a gallery, but he wouldn’t put it past her to be hiding behind one of the many large potted palms or bouquets of flowers so she could later mock the proceedings.
But the palms and flower arrangements were all free of nosy ex-lady’s maids. Nor could he see her lurking behind the marble columns that edged the ballroom or peeking out from behind the musicians seated on the elevated stage at the far end of the room.
He briefly wondered if she might be secreted under the refreshment table. But now he was being absurd. He smiled to himself. She could be outrageous, but even Miss Regan would not go that far.
The final group of guests arrived and he signalled to the band to start playing the first dance of the evening. Dominic turned to his fiancée and smiled politely. ‘May I have the pleasure of the first dance?’
She sent him a small nod, as if she were performing a duty rather than taking part in a pleasurable activity. Cecily placed her gloved hand on the back of his hand and with stiff formality allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor. Images of Nellie’s performance in front of the servants invaded his mind. She had been exaggerating, but not by much.
Nellie had mocked the lack of passion between him and Cecily and she was right. They were little more than acquaintances when they had agreed to become engaged. He had assumed that lack of familiarity would decrease over the course of their engagement, but if anything, they were more like strangers now than they had been before they had agreed to marry.
Whereas with Nellie Regan he had felt immediately relaxed in her company. He had laughed, had talked, he’d even shared details of his life that he rarely discussed with anyone.
But he most definitely should not be thinking of that now. Not when he had his fiancée in his arms. Or should he say, almost in his arms. Once again Cecily was making sure there was plenty of space between them, despite the intimacy of the waltz.
‘Cecily, you seem very distracted this evening. Is everything all right?’
She looked up at him, almost startled that he had spoken to her, then seemed to force herself to smile. ‘Oh, yes, perfectly all right, but thank you for asking. And you, I assume you are also well this evening?’
The level of politeness was almost absurd and the falsity of her smile was at odds with her claim that she was perfectly all right.
‘You’re not having doubts about our engagement, are you? If you are, please do not feel under any obligation.’
Was she having doubts, or was it he who was starting to question this arrangement?
Her smile remained frozen on her face. ‘No, I’m not having doubts. Not at all. As Father says, our marriage will be the perfect match. It was a great honour that you asked my father for my hand and once we have had the opportunity to get better acquainted, I am sure we will have a perfectly happy marriage.’
Her tone of voice and that forced smile suggested she was repeating a well-rehearsed speech, one perhaps that her father had given to her. His engagement was an ideal arrangement for him and for the Hardgrave family, and he had assumed it was what Cecily wanted as well. But whether she had any actual feelings for him, that was impossible to discern.
And she was wrong. He hadn’t asked the Duke of Ashmore for Lady Cecily’s hand. The arrangement had been suggested by the Duke himself and he had been told that Lady Cecily had expressed interest in him. It seemed that was not entirely the case—either Cecily was mistaken or she had been misled by her father.
Courting Lady Cecily hadn’t occurred to Dominic until her father had suggested the arrangement, but he had immediately seen
