His Defiant Amaryllis (Hinley Manor Book 2)

27: The interrupted party

"Among the whisperings and champagne and the stars."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

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As Lydia continued her stride along the hallway, her excitement was beyond containment. She made a turn and saw Damian waiting for her by the stairs. He was standing with his back to her. Hands clasped in front of him. From where she could see him, he stood quite nervously. His foot tapped absently and his shoulders would occasionally rise up and back down.

"Your grace?" she called.

Damian turned and smiled broadly. His wife stood a few paces from him looking like a fairy. Her red curls we gathered on one side, with a loose braid running down her neck and chest. The sparkling pins he gifted her the prior month blended nicely with the red tresses. She gave the appearance of a crowned mythical creature, sent to seduce mankind. His eyes traveled downwards and found himself whistling.

Lydia's dress exuded a hue reminiscent of a stunning amethyst stone. It's rich purples and subtle violet undertones captured the regal and enchanting essence of the gem, enhancing her appearance with an air of elegance and mystique. As she walked toward Damian, the dress caught the light in a way that accentuated its gem-like qualities, making her presence even more captivating and alluring. Not to mention, how closely it wrapped around her body, which enhanced all the curves that sent his imagination to paradise.

"I do not recall this dress. Where have you been hiding it all this time?"

"It is part of my trousseau, silly. I simply never found the chance to wear it." She gave him a slight twirl, "Do you like it? Is it too much?"

He shook his head, "It is perfect, duchess." Damian reached for her hand and placed a kiss on her ungloved skin, "You are perfect."

Blood rushed to her cheeks and up to her ears. Lydia could not help but sigh, "Do try not to make me swoon your grace. I may not make it downstairs."

"Then I shall carry you."

"You will not!" she gasped. But the idea of being held in his arms was not so bad, scandalous perhaps, but a welcome one. "I mean...you could crease my dress if you do so. And I might cause you discomfort."

"Do I hear you questioning my capabilities, hmm?" His hands moved down to her waist, pulling her close to him. "I can assure you, duchess, I am more than capable of lifting my wife."

Lydia did not doubt him. In fact, her thoughts got ahead of her. The image of Damian carrying her bridal style seemed so tempting. She could wrap her hands around his neck and he would take her far, far away. Perhaps they can go somewhere no one knows them. A place where nothing was expected of them. Oh, that would be a dream indeed.

What is it with Damian that makes her want to disappear and leave everything behind?

Peterson cleared his throat and broke their silence. "Pardon me, your grace. Your mother, Lady Lucille has enquired regarding your presence."

"Very well," Damian said and offered his arm to Lydia, "Shall we?"

When they came down, servants cleared the way for them to have a clear view of the ballroom below. From where they stood, Lydia could see Marie and Gideon talking with Garnder's group. His wife was also in attendance. It was nice to see some familiar faces.

On the other side of the room were Alexi and Emelia. Dathan, her husband was wrestling his little sister while their mother laughed at the spectacle.

No one else appeared in sight. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. As much as she loved crowded balls, nothing compares to an intimate gathering. Damian squeezed her hand lovingly and guided her downstairs. Once they were in the ballroom, he said, "What is a party without music?" He asked no one then looked at the corner. The kitchen folks straightened and smiled. They all dressed up for tonight and were in charge of the musical instruments. "Play something jolly, would you folks?"