Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 163 - Hundred And Sixty Three

The Grand Ballroom of the Hamilton estate had been transformed.

Four hundred candles—just as Rowan had begrudgingly paid for—flickered in the crystal chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet wines, and the thousands of white lilies that adorned every surface.

The reception was in full swing.

Servants moved through the crowd like silent shadows, refilling glasses of champagne before they were even empty. Laughter bubbled up from every corner. The guests were relaxed, fed, and happy. Even Uncle Silas was smiling, holding a glass of the expensive claret he had insisted upon.

In the center of the room, the orchestra struck up a new song. It was a waltz—slow, romantic, and sweeping.

Carcel turned to Ines. He bowed low, extending his hand.

"May I have this dance, Your Grace?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and reverence.

Ines laughed. The title still sounded new and strange to her ears.

"You may, Your Grace," she replied.

She placed her hand in his. He pulled her onto the floor. His hand settled on her waist, warm and firm through the silk of her dress. She placed her other hand on his shoulder.

They began to move.

One-two-three. One-two-three.

They glided across the polished floor. The long train of Ines’s cream dress swirled around their feet like a cloud. For a moment, the hundreds of guests faded away. It was just the two of them, spinning in their own private universe.

Carcel looked down at her. He studied her face as if memorizing it. He looked at the jasmine flowers in her hair, the amethyst necklace at her throat, and the soft smile on her lips.

He pulled her slightly closer.

"We will be leaving for Carleton tomorrow at dawn," Carcel spoke. His voice was low, meant only for her.

Ines looked up, meeting his gaze. She didn’t stumble in her step. She followed his lead perfectly.

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"I’m sorry it’s so quick," Carcel apologized, a furrow appearing between his brows. "I know you are tired. I know you might want to spend more time with your family."

He spun her in a gentle twirl. The world blurred into streaks of color.

"But," Carcel continued as he caught her again, "I want you to be by my side all times as my wife and Duchess. I want to take you home. I want to start our life away from the eyes of the court and the whispers of the ton."

Ines felt a wave of relief wash over her.

London was loud. London was where Priscilla had attacked her. London was full of expectations and rules.

"It’s okay," Ines replied, squeezing his shoulder gently. "I also want to leave soon."

She looked over his shoulder at the crowded room. She loved her brother, and she was grateful for the party, but she was ready for quiet. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"I need a change of scenery," Ines admitted. "I need fresh air and a library that hasn’t been disturbed in a hundred years. And I’m sure Carleton would be beautiful."

Carcel smiled. It was a dazzling smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"It is," he promised. "And it is waiting for you."

On the edge of the dance floor, a different kind of conversation was happening.

Rowan stood near the open terrace doors, holding a crystal glass of amber brandy. He had loosened his cravat slightly, finally allowing himself to relax. The wedding was a success. The lobsters were delicious. And most importantly, nobody had objected during the ceremony.

He was surrounded by his "buddies"—a group of loud, cheerful noblemen who had known him since Eton.

Viscount Weston, with a booming laugh and a nose that was slightly red from the wine, leaned against a pillar. He watched Carcel and Ines spinning on the floor.

"Well," Weston announced, swirling his drink. "Our Carcel is finally taken."

He shook his head in mock disbelief.

"I never thought I would see the day," Weston continued. "The Ice Duke. The man who cared more for duty and business than debutantes. He’s now a married man and a family man."

Weston laughed loudly, slapping his thigh.

Another friend, Lord Harrison, chimed in. He was taller with a dry sense of humor.

"It is quite the turnaround," Harrison agreed. "Do you remember when he arrived in London few months ago? He looked so serious and boring."

Harrison took a sip of his wine.

" Remember when he said he came for business," He noted. "He came to settle some estate matters and attend a few boring meetings."

Harrison nudged Rowan with his elbow, winking.

"But is leaving with..." Harrison paused for dramatic effect. "... a wife."

Rowan threw his head back and laughed. The sound rumbled in his chest.

"He certainly is," Rowan said. "And a very expensive wedding bill."

The men chuckled.

Rowan looked out at the dance floor. He watched Ines. She was laughing at something Carcel had whispered to her. Her head was thrown back, her neck exposed, looking completely carefree.

It was a look Rowan hadn’t seen on her face in years. Since their parents died, Ines had been serious. She had been the careful one. She had hidden away in her room reading stories because the real world was too heavy.

But now, she looked light.

"I am happy Ines has gotten what she wanted," Rowan said, his voice turning serious for a moment. "A love marriage. It is rare in our circle. Usually, it is just land for titles, or money for bloodlines."

He took a sip of his brandy.

"I am sure Carcel will make her happy," Rowan added. "He is a good man."

Weston nodded, his expression sobering up.

"He is. He has honor."

Then, Weston’s face broke into a grin again. He couldn’t stay serious for long.

"Well," Weston spoke, raising his glass. "If he doesn’t..."

He gestured to their circle of friends—five large, broad-shouldered men who spent their days hunting and fencing.

"If he doesn’t treat her like a queen," Weston declared, "us gentlemen..."

He pointed a finger at the group.

"... Will absolutely deal with him."

"Here, here!" Harrison shouted. "We will challenge him at dawn!"

"We will put frogs in his bed!" another friend shouted drunkenly.

They all laughed. It was a joke, but underneath it lay a promise. Carcel was a Duke, but Ines had an army of brothers, by blood and by bond.

"To the new couple!" Weston shouted.

"To the new couple!" the group echoed.

They clinked their glasses together.

Rowan took a long sip of the brandy. It burned pleasantly in his throat.

He lowered his glass. He didn’t join the next round of jokes. He just watched.

He saw Carcel lean down and kiss Ines’s forehead right in the middle of the dance floor. He saw Ines close her eyes and lean into him, safe and secure.

Rowan felt a knot loosen in his chest. His job was done. He had protected her. He had provided for her. And now, he had successfully handed her over to someone worthy.

He looked at Ines smiling happily as she talked to Carcel. She looked radiant.

Rowan nodded his head slowly. It was a nod of approval. A nod of closure.

"Be happy, little sister," he whispered into his glass.

Then, turning back to his friends, he grinned.

"Now," Rowan bellowed. "Who wants to bet on how long it takes Uncle Silas to fall asleep in the punch bowl?"