When they reached the dowager duchess, she gave her a small smile as Sarani made a curtsy worthy of the queen’s court. “Your Grace,” Sarani said.
“Your Highness,” the dowager greeted her in return. “That’s a rather intriguing choice of dress.”
Sarani almost fell over at the use of her title and then bit her lip at the fastidious survey of her gown. Despite their recent truce, she’d expected nothing less. “It was designed in Joor where I grew up.”
The dowager duchess gave the tiniest of smiles, the light in her eyes reminding Sarani of her son’s. “It’s extraordinary, and I have to say, it suits you remarkably well.”
That was a resounding stamp of approval if ever there was one.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The strains of a waltz echoed through the ballroom as the musicians tuned their instruments. “Dance with me?” Rhystan said.
Sarani bit her lip and nodded. All eyes were on them as the duke escorted her into the set. Sarani’s entire body felt wooden, but she followed his expert lead. Normally, she felt deliciously light in his arms, but for some reason, she felt only hollow.
This was the last time they would dance.
The last time he would hold her.
Her eyes stung.
“What is the matter?” he asked, ever in tune with her emotions. “You looked sad for a moment there.”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m happy.”
“Fibber.”
She smiled as he spun her through a turn that she almost bungled with a double step. He didn’t push any more, but she could see the small pleat between his brows as if he could sense the maelstrom of feelings barreling through her. It took all her poise to keep from bursting into tears.
“You’re a disgrace.”
The ugly accusation came out of nowhere. Sarani wasn’t sure whether it was directed to her or to the duke, but he came to an abrupt stop, nearly colliding with some of the other dancers. They, too, stumbled to a halt and the music petered out.
“Who said that?” he demanded. When no one answered, he raised his voice. “Show yourself.”
A sneering Markham stepped forward. At the violent, hateful look on his face, Sarani’s entire body braced for attack. Now that the truth of her identity was public knowledge, he was an embittered man with nothing to lose.
“I did.” His eyes scraped down her person. “You can dress her in pretty clothes, but it doesn’t change who she is. And you’re a disgrace to the entire aristocracy bringing that…creature here and parading her as one of our own.”
“She is one of your own, you inbred imbecile,” Rhystan shot back. “Her mother was a countess with more patrician blood in her veins than you have in yours.”
“Her father was a blackie.”
“He was an Indian prince,” Rhystan corrected with a glare. “Do you plan to make a salient point anytime soon, Markham?”
“She does not belong here.”
A few bodies turned away from her toward the vice admiral, hands opening fans to block her from view, and Sarani felt her stomach churn.
The duke seethed. “This is my house, and I say she has more right to be here than you do. You were not invited. I warned you once, Markham, show her some respect.”
The man spluttered, his face going red. “I’m better than that…than that…”
“Careful, sir,” Rhystan warned. “You are treading in dangerous territory, insulting a duke’s guest in his own home. One would think you had a wish to meet with pistols at dawn.”
“Dueling is illegal.”
“We both know that peers are beyond the law, especially if it’s a matter of honor. If I call you out, yours would be in question, wouldn’t it?”
Sarani felt her belly quail at the threat. Goodness, no. He could not mean to fight Markham on her behalf. Her gaze scanned the room for Ravenna or even the duchess. The dowager duchess would not allow it, would she? But when Sarani found her, the duchess’s face was as implacable and as merciless as her son’s.
Sarani found her voice and stepped forward. “Stop this.”
Markham’s mouth twisted. “How dare you command me, girl.”
Rhystan opened his mouth, but Sarani forestalled him with one hand. She did not make a reply to the vice admiral but instead scanned the ballroom. Almost everyone was staring at her, expressions varying from curiosity to contempt. None of it signified, but she wanted to take in each and every face.
She did not control anyone else’s actions, only her own.
Her cold gaze returned to Markham, the man who had taken so much from her, stripped her of her very dignity as if it’d been his right to do so. “I am not a girl. I am a princess of Joor, and you will address me as Your Highness.”
She exhaled and surveyed the guests. “My father was an Indian prince, and my mother was a countess of English and Scottish birth.” She held her chin high. “My parents met and fell in love. I never knew anything but love from them. However, what I received from most of the outside world was just the opposite and much like what I see here: scorn, derision, and fear. I am not ashamed of who I am.”
She turned to Rhystan with a soft smile and then caught the duchess’s gaze and finally touched on Ravenna. “I thank the Duke of Embry and his family for taking me in when I had no one to turn to. They offered me safety when I needed it most.” She took in a clipped breath, knowing the next part would be the hardest. “However, I am no longer engaged to the duke. The purpose of our engagement was to keep me safe from the man who murdered my father.” Amid the loud gasps and whispers, she felt Rhystan tense at her side. “But now that the assassin is in the hands of the police, I think it’s best to release the duke from our betrothal.”
She narrowed her eyes at Markham for so long that he shifted in his scuffed boots, his face turning puce. “The truth, sir, is that you are the disgrace, not the duke. Not just for maligning me or for taking it upon yourself to punish someone for being different but for being so small-minded that you cannot see past your own ignorance. I pity you. The world is a big, big place, and you are but one measly, inconsequential prick.” Sarani smiled. “I mean speck.”
“How dare you insult me?” he fumed.
“I dare because I have a brain in my head and a tongue capable of articulating my thoughts. I am not afraid of you, Markham.” She smiled a shark’s smile. “However, if you want me to make it truly simple for your tiny little brain to comprehend, I dare because I outrank you.”
Markham’s face turned the color of an overripe tomato, and he lunged forward as if to strike her, but before he could get close, he was restrained by several large footmen. Sarani blinked as Her Grace’s voice cut through the noise. “Fullerton, this man is trespassing and is unwelcome in this house.”