John held out his arm. “Come, my love, my countess. Let’s face the ravening hordes.”

She laughed and the shadow of her amusement remained when they entered the drawing room to meet their dinner guests, the privileged few who would then help to open the ball. At least the people they’d invited had come.

Faith’s tension showed no sign of decreasing any time soon, tightening her stomach muscles, throttling her. However, she utterly refused to let John down so she smiled and chatted, racking her brains for non-controversial topics. Interesting dinner subjects, so she couldn’t discuss the war, her particular area of expertise. She went for politics instead and shortly discovered the subject of the recent Habeus Corpus Suspension Act held most people. The return or otherwise of prisoners was one that currently engrossed many. Since the end of the war had resulted in the mass return of soldiers who could find nothing to do except engage in criminal activity. Or so some of the dinner guests would have it. But Faith, who had known many of the men, knew them to be good hearted, but desperate to find a source of income to support their families.

Despite the glares coming her way from the dowager she refused to be cowed into stupidity, or making the kind of inane comments Charlotte and Louise were engaging in.

For reward, she received encouraging smiles from her husband and the respect of some of his military colleagues sitting around the table. Not all, though. In the debate she forgot her nervousness and concern that she would do something inappropriate, or they would reject her out of hand. She no longer cared. Only that the men she’d known for so long not receive the blame for something they could not change; namely the influx of men, too many for them to obtain respectable positions.

Indeed, she grew so engrossed she barely noticed the changes in the three-course banquet until the last remove was taken away. The footmen whipped away the cloth to reveal the smooth, polished mahogany surface beneath and provided the wine for the toasts.

After the royal toast and a meaningful one for the Princess of Wales, who everyone knew was in the family way, even though the news was not official yet, the dowager’s glares coalesced into a coughing session that effectively broke into the discussion long enough for Faith to recall her duty. She led the ladies into the drawing room, where a professional keyboard player entertained them on the harpsichord, and fashion and balls became the topic of conversation.

“You have some interesting opinions,” Lady Graywood said.

Already aware she may have taken the discussion too far, Faith cringed inwardly, but outwardly merely furled her fan and smiled.

“I did not always live this way.” And wondered anew how she would cope with living in this way, becoming a leader of society, holding more balls like this. Smiling and agreeing with people she disliked because they needed to gain an advantage. She would not behave hypocritically, but apart from that decision, she had few other opinions on her future life. It had become obvious to her that leaving John was no longer an option. Almost she could wish for the position of beloved mistress, so she could live quietly somewhere under his protection. Although of course she was a mistress, in one sense. At least until next week.

The thought made a smile flicker over her lips. Lady Graywood stopped in her recital of what her daughters were doing, and what she expected of a well-brought up young lady. By implication she condemned Faith, but aloud she complimented her on her forthrightness and her decided beliefs.

Faith cringed more. By the time John and the other gentlemen entered she was once again ready to sink into the first hole that happened to open in the floor.

Being John, he noticed something in her appearance and came over to join her. He held out his hand, commanding rather than requesting and she placed her own hand over his, allowing him to draw her to her feet. Heat burned through the thickness of two pairs of evening gloves, attraction that seemed constant and unwavering. He wanted her even here, his regard made that clear, but not to anyone else. How long had he felt that? She had avoided his eyes for so long, knowing she wanted him. Only recently had she allowed herself the indulgence of meeting his gaze, allowing him to see into the depths of her soul. “We should go in soon,” he said.

They’d opened the smaller drawing room that would become the card room once the ball had begun. The larger one would form the main ballroom. With the furniture either removed or pushed against the walls, the suite on the first floor of the house would accommodate at least two hundred guests. Although the ball would not be considered a fashionable squeeze unless at least another hundred arrived.

He tucked her closer so she could curl her arm around his. “You were magnificent in the dining room,” he said, loud enough for the dowager to hear. “Never change, will you?”

Faith knew her tension had allowed the dowager to reach a vulnerable part of her, the part that refused to believe she could perform the office she had fallen into. That would happen less and less, she determined, and nobody except John would ever know of her doubts.

Committed to her action she raised her chin and met his concerned gaze with an unwavering smile. “Thank you. I may not be the kind of countess that has gone before, but times are changing and I will be my own sort of countess.”

His eyes glistened with emotion. “I know you will. I expect nothing else of my brave, clever Faith.”

She knew his words were heard by more people than the dowager. He had declared his devotion to her in words few people would misinterpret. She could face anything, do anything with him by her side.

Guests began to arrive and they moved into the ballroom. Any doubts Faith had about the gathering were quickly dispelled as even at this unfashionably early hour, the rooms filled. Not only with the military men the Duke of Wellington had sent their way.

The uniforms of the officers made a fine display in the elegant and spacious rooms. Their ladies glittered with jewels and sparkled with wit or vitriol, depending on their temperament and intelligence. Faith tried for dignified interest, knowing she could not compete with some of the society dames present. At least not yet. In time, she would.

Faith wouldn’t repeat her moment of doubt.

Many of the military men remembered her, and instead of commenting on her previous life, they called her “Friend” and treated her with kindness. Even though some of their wives gave Faith glances that indicated something else. Perhaps they wondered how she’d snared a prize like John, considering she was married to a lowly lieutenant before, barely scraping the level of respectability.

She knew, and she cared for none of the trappings he owned. Only him. She’d happily go with him to the other end of the earth, to the wilderness he referred to when he talked of his fur-trapping venture.

She opened the dancing. Not her forte, but she coped well enough. Watching John as they completed the complicated steps of the formal dance that opened the ball, she knew she would prefer to dance with him than anyone else.

However she had a position to maintain, something she suspected would become a tedious constant in her life. Easily tolerable if she had John to support her. And do other things, she thought with a secret smile.

When John led her off the floor, he took her to a senior army officer, a general by the adornments and insignia on his uniform.

Then he excused himself to attend to his duties as host and lead the highest ranking female present on to the dance floor. The man gave her a knowing grin. “You were not thinking of dancing just then, were you, my lady? That kind of smile is an indicator of character.

Women will smile at the thought of new jewellery, a pretty gown, a social coup or a more personal topic. May I ask what yours was for?”

She bestowed a gracious smile on him, not at all like the one earlier. “You may ask, sir.”

He was still chuckling when he led her out for the first country dance. “Don’t hold with the modern predilection for dancing with one person alone,” he said. “Dances are for making acquaintances.

How can you do that with only one partner?” She tended to agree, but since the waltz had held sway in fashionable ballrooms since its introduction over ten years earlier, she had requested the quartet they’d engaged to play some.

Her first surprise was when she overheard the dowager giving her far more credit than she deserved for the evening. While not a raging success, it was proving popular enough it would not be castigated as a disaster. She would remain content with that and build on it. Think in the long term, now John had persuaded her to stay.

The way he had induced her almost made her smile again.

Watching her through heavy-lidded eyes as she arrived late to bed last night, waiting for her to disrobe, making her feel a delicious wanton, wickedness guiding her movements. He’d taught her he loved her to take control in the bedroom, and how much she enjoyed doing so. As well as when he took over, unwilling or unable to wait.

Her body heating with the remembrance, she worked on concentrating on her steps when another military gentleman took her on to the floor.

The rooms were filling nicely as the evening went on and people were staying, not taking one look and leaving, as people sometimes did. The terror of boredom seemed endemic in London society.

Either that, or the vying for attention led to fatigue with the efforts.

For the first time Faith appreciated her decision to be herself, rather than don a persona for her public appearances. While she understood their need for privacy, now more than ever, she knew that would not work for her.

As her latest dance partner took her towards the sideboard where light refreshments and drink were laid out, her foot slipped.

She frowned down at the polished wood, the floor consisting of pieces of wood inserted in a detailed pattern. This room was intended for dancing and she had no wish for her rooms to be turned into ice by over-zealous servants.

Just one piece, the black. She would ensure that never happened again.

When she looked up, it was into a familiar pair of brown eyes.

The hooked nose and austere features, combined with the dark, bushy eyebrows often deterred most people from familiarity with him. But Faith had seen him in very different circumstances to these and she could smile at the most distinguished soldier in the nation with unreserved pleasure.

He took her hand and bowed over it. “Lady Graywood, it’s a delight to meet you again.”

“Your grace, thank you for coming.”

She’d expected to see her husband when such an honoured guest arrived, and she wasn’t disappointed. John bowed and the two men exchanged the greeting that old colleagues might engage in, after formal bows were disposed of.

The duke surveyed the ballroom. “I see my influence has not entirely died. I brought the Arbuthnots. I trust you are not as much a stickler as some?”

The strong rumours surrounding the Duke of Wellington and Mrs. Arbuthnot were not abating. However, few people had shunned them either. Nobody denied the hero of Waterloo. “I’m flattered,” she said before John could comment. “Mrs. Arbuthnot is reported to be an engaging and intelligent woman and I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

A bit of flattery to the people who meant the most to him rarely went amiss. The duke favoured her with a warm smile. “Indeed she is. I would be delighted to introduce you.” His marriage a failure since he returned from Belgium, the duchess residing in the country for the most part, everyone knew the duke took his pleasures elsewhere, and Mrs. Arbuthnot was the current favourite, albeit with the connivance of her husband.

Faith blinked. His grace was granting particular attention to her.

At the most she’d hoped for a brief appearance, but Wellington showed every indication of remaining and exerting his charm, which was considerable but rarely used for anything or anyone he disliked. He was not appreciated in some quarters, but the majority applauded his efforts for the country. Without him, Britain might not have come out of the recent bloody and expensive wars as well as it had.

Now the man frequently proclaimed the saviour of the nation was leading her out for the next country dance. Beyond her wildest dreams. Even the dowager was wearing a satisfied expression, as near as Faith had seen to an outright smile.