Rowan nodded his head slowly in polite recognition. The Moore family was an old, highly respected, and very wealthy noble family in England.

Lady Moore took a tiny step closer to him. She looked directly into his eyes, using her family history to form a personal connection.

"My father and your father served the country together many years ago in the military," Lady Moore explained softly, her voice taking on a deeply sympathetic, gentle tone. "They were very good friends during the war. But, unfortunately, your father did not make it back home to you."

She lowered her eyes for a brief second, deeply moved by the old, tragic loss of the late Duke.

Rowan’s polite smile faltered just a tiny fraction at the sudden mention of his dead father, but he quickly maintained his perfect, composed aristocratic mask. He did not like strangers using his family tragedies for polite conversation, but he was a gentleman and a host.

"It is nice to meet you, Lady Moore," Rowan replied softly. His voice remained completely polite, but he did not step any closer to her. "My father was a brave man. I hope your father is well?"

Lady Moore looked back up at him, her charming smile returning instantly.

"Yes, he is very well, thank you for asking," Lady Moore replied brightly, fluttering her eyelashes just a little bit. "I just came back to London last week. My father was unfortunately unable to travel due to a slight cold, so he told me to attend this grand ball on his behalf to pay our absolute respects to the Hamilton family."

She opened her fan and waved it slowly in front of her face. She looked around the massive, glowing ballroom with an expression of pure awe.

"And I must say," Lady Moore continued, looking back at Rowan with deep admiration, "thank you for such a wonderful, spectacular ball. It is completely beautiful. You are a truly excellent host, Your Grace."

Rowan offered her another polite, highly brief nod of his head. He was not interested in her obvious flattery or her beautiful red silk dress. He was entirely immune to her charms.

"You are very welcome, Lady Moore," Rowan replied smoothly, offering a highly dismissive, polite smile. "Please, enjoy yourself. The orchestra will begin playing the waltzes very soon, and there is plenty of champagne."

Lady Moore opened her mouth to speak again. She was entirely prepared to ask him to save a specific dance for her. She wanted to secure her place by his side before any other young lady could claim him.

But before she could even form a single word, a loud, sharp noise completely cut through the air of the ballroom.

THUMP!

Mr. Simmons struck his wooden staff against the marble floor. It was a much louder, much firmer strike than he had used for any other guest all evening.

The loud noise immediately caught the attention of the crowd. The talking slowed down.

Mr. Simmons stood at the very top of the stairs. He took a very deep breath, puffing his chest out proudly. He raised his chin high.

"Lady Delaney Kingsley!" Mr. Simmons announced.

His deep voice completely echoed across the massive room. He spoke her name with undeniable pride and respect.

As soon as Mr. Simmons announced Delaney’s name, the entire atmosphere of the ballroom shifted in a single second.

The orchestra stopped playing their cheerful tune, transitioning smoothly into a much softer, highly dramatic piece of music. The loud, boisterous laughter of the men completely ceased. The rapid fluttering of fans stopped abruptly.

Everyone in the entire room turned to look.

Hundreds of heads turned simultaneously toward the double doors. The lords and ladies of the Ton completely stopped their conversations. The silence was heavy and entirely filled with curiosity. They all wanted to see the famous, mysterious heiress who had defeated her wicked uncle and cleared her father’s name in the House of Lords.

Delaney stood at the very top of the short stairs.

She looked absolutely breathtaking. She was a complete vision of radiant beauty.

She wore a spectacular, custom-made evening gown made of the finest, shimmering silver silk. The dress caught the golden light of the thousands of candles, making her look as if she were glowing from the inside out. The delicate silver fabric hugged her waist perfectly before flowing out into a wide, elegant skirt. She wore no heavy, ostentatious jewels to distract from her natural beauty. She simply wore a single, delicate silver chain around her neck, and her dark, rich curls were pinned up gracefully, allowing a few soft strands to frame her face.

She stood perfectly straight. She did not look nervous. She looked exactly like a powerful, wealthy, confident Lady of the Ton.

All eyes in the ballroom were fixed completely on her. The men stared in admiration, entirely stunned by her beauty. The women stared in quiet, envious awe, completely jealous of her perfect silver dress and her sudden, massive fortune.

But Delaney did not care about the hundreds of staring lords and ladies. She did not look at the crowd.

Her bright hazel eyes searched the crowded floor rapidly. She ignored the whispers and the stares.

Finally, her eyes found exactly what they were looking for.

Her eyes locked completely onto Rowan.

From the very moment she appeared at the top of the stairs, Rowan had frozen entirely in place. His heart completely stopped beating in his chest for a single second. His breathing halted.

He stared up at her, completely and entirely mesmerized. The entire crowded, noisy ballroom simply vanished from his vision. The grand crystal chandeliers, the white roses, and the hundreds of guests completely disappeared.

There was only her.

She looked so incredibly beautiful, so incredibly strong, and so incredibly perfect that it physically ached in his chest. This was the brave, wonderful woman he loved. This was his future Duchess.

Rowan’s lips parted slightly in pure, stunned awe.

He completely forgot his societal training. He forgot his polite aristocratic mask.

"Wow," Rowan whispered to himself.

It was a tiny, incredibly soft, honest whisper. The simple word slipped past his lips without his permission, completely full of reverence and love.

Lady Julia Moore was standing just three feet away from him. She heard his soft whisper. She saw the undeniable look of devotion completely take over the Duke’s handsome face.

Lady Moore turned her head and looked up at the stairs. She saw the beautiful woman in the silver dress. Instantly, Lady Moore knew that she had entirely, completely lost the game before it had even begun. No woman in the room could possibly compete with the absolute look of love shining in the Duke’s brown eyes.

Rowan did not even look back at Lady Moore properly. His eyes were still completely glued to Delaney as she slowly began to descend the carpeted stairs.

Rowan turned his body slightly toward Lady Moore. He did not offer her a charming smile. He did not engage in polite conversation.

Rowan gave her a very quick, highly dismissive, incredibly short bow of his head.

"Please excuse me," Rowan said. His voice was completely distracted, entirely focused on the silver dress moving down the stairs.

He did not wait for Lady Moore to reply. He did not wait for her to curtsy or say goodbye.

Rowan turned his back on her completely. He took a long, eager stride away from her, walking directly across the polished wooden dance floor to go and meet the true love of his life.

Lady Julia Moore was left standing completely alone in the middle of the crowd. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Her charming, beautiful smile completely vanished from her face. It was instantly replaced by a hard bitter expression of jealousy. She had tried to use her family name, her beauty, and her clever words to win the Duke she had set her sights on, and he had completely dismissed her for another woman.

Lady Moore kept her arms straight down by her sides to hide her anger from the watching crowd.

She slowly curled her fingers inward. She closed her gloved hands into tight, angry, shaking fists.

She squeezed her hands together so tightly that she actually dug her sharp fingernails deeply into the soft flesh of her own palm, right through the thin fabric of her silk gloves. She welcomed the tiny pinch of physical pain to distract her from the highly embarrassing sting of her sudden, public rejection.

Lady Moore stood entirely frozen, digging her nails into her palm, as she watched the Duke of Ford walk smoothly across the room, completely ready to offer his entire heart and his grand title to Lady Delaney Kingsley.