"Yes, but I'll give you a word of advice from an old married man: It never hurts to remind them."
The last thing he wanted to do was betray his growing feelings for his wife in public. Too many eyes were watching them. One hint that the Duke and Duchess of Malloryn were no longer entirely at odds, and he might condemn her to a dangerous fate. It was one thing to know she was working for him, but Balfour's spies would be watching for any sign of weakness in him.
"I'll consider your advice," he replied, hoping she'd understand. "Right now, I need to keep an eye out for Mowbray."
Adele startled.
"Barrons is aware of what's going on," he told her, just as a familiar face caught his eye.
"There's my father by the orchestra," Adele said without moving her lips. "Thomas Mowbray is talking to Lady Agatha Callahan. He looks like a walrus."
"Found him," Malloryn murmured.
"Why, it sounds like the waltz is just starting," Adele said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Perhaps Barrons would escort you?" Malloryn suggested, watching Sir George slip quietly from the room.
"Of course," Barrons replied promptly. "It will be my honor, Your Grace."
Malloryn noticed the slight hint of disappointment in her eyes as he tilted his head to them. They'd only ever danced that once, and it was clear she wanted to be in his arms again.
It had been clear this morning, when she asked him where he'd stayed the night that she wanted more than a dance.
"You'll be safe here," he murmured. "I'll be back shortly."
"It seems much has changed," Lord Barrons murmured as he swept Adele around the ballroom.
"Does it?" she asked dryly. "Or are you merely being charming again?"
"I'm being honest. You would have to know Malloryn as well as I do to see it," Barrons mused. "He doesn't like to reveal his inner thoughts in public."
"It seems as though he rarely reveals them in private either."
"You, however, are a little easier to read."
Adele looked away.
She couldn't help herself sometimes. Every time she saw her husband, the rest of the room faded into inconsequence.
"Be patient with him," Barrons murmured. "And smile. You're dancing with me. You'll ruin my reputation if you continue to look so grim."
Adele tsked under her breath. "No wonder your wife never stood a chance."
He laughed. "I'll tell her that."
It felt like dancing with a dashing pirate. Barrons was ridiculously handsome and moved with the sort of dangerous grace that quite swept a young woman off her feet. She'd always had a certain partiality for brown eyes, but as she looked up into his, she realized the allure had faded.
All she could see were eyes the color of a stormy sky.
Eyes as piercing as one of her gray diamonds; their facets equally as reflective and fascinating.
"Don't let him push you away," Barrons continued, as the waltz began its last stanza. "He will, you know, but I think he needs you."
"It's not quite as easy as one might imagine." After all, he hadn't bedded her since that day on his desk.
"I'll tell you a little secret: Malloryn lives and breathes control, especially now, after Russia—"
"Why Russia?"
Barrons leaned closer, so he wouldn't be heard. "I don't know precisely what they did to him there, but it wasn't kind, Duchess. Jelena tortured him extensively, and I don't think he thought anyone would come for him. He won't talk about it. At least not with me. Probably not with others, either."
She considered that, feeling a little horrified at the thought. "He doesn't sleep very often."
"That doesn't surprise me." Barrons gave her a thin smile, and she realized he cared for Malloryn. "I can see the cracks in his surface. He holds himself together with pure willpower, but even Malloryn might break. I don't want to see that."
"What can I do?"
"You think he doesn't care for you. You think he keeps you at arm's length, no?"
She nodded. "We have reached a truce, but... Malloryn remains Malloryn."
No matter how much she pushed, she still woke alone.
"When you walked in here, he couldn't take his eyes from you." Barrons twirled her. "I have never seen him look at a woman like that in all the years I've known him."
"There is an attraction there."
"It's more than attraction. I saw longing, Duchess. The type you sometimes see in a man's eyes when he wants something, but does not dare reach for it. And we both know he won't reach for it. If you want more from him, then you must demand it."
To demand it meant wearing her heart on her sleeve, and Adele had her own demons.
"Thank you. For the advice," she whispered, as the waltz wound down.
Barrons led her to the edge of the ballroom. "Thank you for the dance. It was most enlightening." He gave her a considering look as he pressed a kiss to the back of her silk glove. "I wish you well."
And then he sauntered off, lords and ladies alike parting around him like the sea, as if they sensed a powerful predator in their midst.
Adele didn't know what to think.
Did she dare hope Barrons spoke the truth?
"Your Grace," said a footman, out of nowhere.
Adele startled. "Yes?"
"A message," he said, slipping a piece of folded paper into her hand before vanishing into the crowd.
Adele glanced at the paper, her breath catching when she recognized the writing. It was Hattie's.
Please. I need to see you right now. Behind the stairs. Father's done something terrible.
Come out, come out, wherever you are....
"She's quite a catch, isn't she?"
Malloryn stilled as he recognized the voice, his hand sliding into his pocket and finding the small, hard lump there.
Lord Devoncourt stepped up beside him as Malloryn watched Adele dancing from the balcony. She seemed enraptured with something Barrons was saying, and the vibrant dark pink gown set her apart from the rest of the dance floor.