“Oh, please,” Harper chided. “Do you think I don’t know you would rather have your nose cut off than consider an opportunity to defend yourself to your father?”
“And why exactly should I defend myself to him?” Gray bit out and began buttoning his periwinkle coat with magenta embroidery along the edges and cuffs.
“Because he’s your family, Grayson. Remind him of that. You must not lose everything to Cavendish. While your father lives, he can still change his will. You must make certain that nothing changes. You must inherit everything. Grandmother will make herself your beneficiary should you disappear. It will all be in a bank, waiting for you in the future.”
Gray looked at Aria. She nodded and left the dance hall with him and Harper.
She was with him when he stepped through the ballroom double doors and strolled inside, smiling as if he hadn’t made them all wait for two hours before they could begin their gossiping. He smiled at no one in particular and Aria couldn’t help but notice that when his eyes reached her, his smile grew noticeably warmer.
The music stopped and every eye turned to him. Walking at his side, Aria tilted her chin and held her head up, proud to be walking beside him.
His grandmother was there, sitting at his table with Harper, waiting for them. When Gray saw her, he acknowledged her with a nod and a wink.
Mrs. B.’s gushing reaction to him didn’t escape Aria’s notice. Aria smiled, happy that they were reunited.
After he walked her to his table, Gray turned to the musicians, mainly the pianist, with whom he had pre-arranged a musical piece. They exchanged a nod and Gray walked to the center of the dance floor, cleared when the guests saw him enter.
“I’m here to dedicate this dance to my grandmother, who has returned to me.”
Aria had a hard time seeing Mrs. B. wiping her eyes because her own were blurry with tears.
The music began. He stood slightly bent forward and then threw his arms back with a snap of his head. He extended his arms to the left. His body followed and then he swung to the right. He flowed to the music as if he could feel every note and chord in his blood. Aria believed he could.
Around her she could hear the sighs of the women in the ballroom.
“He is like living art.”
…a feast for my poor eyes.”
“I like this way of dancing more than ballet. What is it called?”
The questions and comments buzzed around Aria’s ears. She smiled, not worried in the least about any one of the women there. Somehow, she had won the bitter heart of the marquess and then watched him shed his chains and step into the radiant light. He danced, free of the strings that had moved him this way and that. She would cry her happy tears later. It wouldn’t do to have her, Harper, and his grandmother all crying like fools at the table.
He sprang from one foot, spreading his legs and arms wide while in the air. He landed on the other foot in a perfect grand jeté. Aria felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
His body was long and lean in all the right places, creating beautiful lines whether in the air or on the ground. He was light on his toes, his feet moving as if in the air. Though he’d just begun practicing lyrical dance, every move was completely natural. His pushes and pulls were forceful, yet graceful. From his raised head to his pointed toes, he was glorious to behold.
But it was the way he closed his eyes and delighted in flying that made him most breathtaking.
Aria remembered to breathe and looked across the table at Mrs. B. Gray’s grandmother wore a smile that Aria was sure would never completely leave her face. She knew what his dancing meant to him and, as Aria told Gray, his grandmother sent Aria to him because she knew Aria would appreciate his marvelous talent. Maybe she also knew that Aria would never allow anyone to stop him from dancing again.
When Gray was finished his grandmother and Aria began the applause, but everyone joined in until the sound of clapping hands filled the ballroom.
Gray waited until the applause died down before he turned his attention to his father, who stared at him as if he’d never seen his son before.
Aria held her breath. Gray hadn’t told her what he was going to say to his father. With him, it could go either way. She had no idea what to expect.
“The other reason I’m here tonight, dancing at your ball is to announce to you and everyone here that I’ve found the woman I love with every ounce of my heart.” He looked to where Aria was sitting with her face aglow in the firelight. “Miss Aria Darling will be at my side as my wife for all time.”
With nothing but his warm smile, he eased her nerves.
But too soon, he returned his dark attention to his father. “Whether you approve or not.”
When the duke opened his mouth to speak, Gray held up his finger to stop him. “I am your only son. I am sound of mind, and I have fought for the king. I won’t let Miss Darling or Dartmouth be taken from me.”
He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Aria wondered if the duke was thinking about his stepson, Mr. Cavendish, lying in his sickbed at the moment with a broken nose and three missing teeth and two broken ribs.
“Since I was a boy,” he continued, “you have never done a single thing for me. Now I ask you to do one thing. Declare that Timothy Cavendish is no longer your son, even by marriage because he tried to take Miss Darling’s life. No such man should ever rule.”