The orchestra began to play, the first notes of the waltz floated through the ballroom like a gentle breath, silencing every lingering conversation. Hundreds of guests turned toward the polished marble floor. Tradition dictated that no one else danced until the Duke of Blackthorne took the first step.
For over two centuries, Lucien had opened the Midsummer Ball the same way with perfect posture, a polite smile. An empty heart. Tonight…Everything was different. His gaze never left Elena. She stood beside him in her ivory gown, her fingers still resting lightly in his. The glow of hundreds of candles softened the warmth in her dark eyes, while the crystal chandeliers above scattered tiny stars across her hair. She genuinely looked breathtaking, Lucien found himself forgetting that the ballr
