The ball that night was quite a crush. Almost the entire ton was present, awaiting the unveiling of Christen Florey. Although rumour had it that Lady Clara was the one, not many people believed it.

After all, did she really have the courage to insult the ton?

Leo was bent on disclosing the truth gracefully. He said that they didn't have to fear anybody. Besides, Clara was a duchess now and no one would dare to say a word against her.

But Clara was skeptical. Like the rest of the ton, she didn't know if she had the grace to pull it all off with aplomb.

Like at the previous ball she'd attended, Clara was a huge success tonight as well.

She practically glowed.

And Leo couldn't take his eyes off of her. No man could, much to his annoyance.

He watched her as she glided across the dance floor with her dance partner, a stupid young bloke who was staring at her like she was the answer to all his prayers. Leo couldn't really blame the man. Although he felt a certain dislike for the boy, he didn't bother Leo all that much. He didn't see him as a threat or a competitor. He knew that Clara was his and his alone. Besides, seeing her so happy made him happy as well.

And then their gazes locked. He saw her staring at him over the boy's shoulder. That was enough to set his heart racing. He strode across the floor, pushing some of the dancers in his haste to reach her.

He saw her eyes widen as he neared them. Leo put his hand on the boy– Radson's shoulder and turned him around.

"I believe this dance is mine, Radson," Leo said, staring him down.

It seemed like the boy wasn't completely daft because he moved away gracefully with a smile giving Clara one last longing look.

"That was extremely arrogant," Clara sputtered. But Leo could see that she was pleased and just shrugged as he took her into his arms.

Ah, home.

They waltzed for a while, staring into each other's eyes. The light from the candles glinted off her hair, making her look ethereal.

"I love you," he murmured, unable to help himself.

"I love you more," she said, a lovely blush settling on her cheeks.

It was only now that Clara understood the purpose of the waltz. It was purely a form a foreplay when dances with the right man. She understood because as she danced with this man, she could feel her insides melt. She could feel the heat of his palm, where he'd placed it on her back. His hot gaze searing her, branding her.

Before she could realise what was happening, Leo had guided her to the French doors and discreetly out into the garden.

This had to be the most cliché scene and Clara giggled because it was finally happening to her.

They entered the ballroom after quite some time. Clara's cheeks were unnaturally rosy and her hair wasn't precisely as it was when she'd arrived. But she looked happy.

The Duke on the other seemed like he was extremely pleased with himself, although his previously snowy white and crisp cravat, like her grace's hair, wasn't precisely as it had been and lay limp and wrinkled around his neck.

The Earl, Clara's father, on the other hand noticed and wasn't pleased at all.

But a few minutes after that, there seemed to be a racket near the stage on which the orchestra was playing.

It was Lady Rebecca, of course.

Finally, she was given leave to speak.

"Are we just going to pretend like we don't know about Clara's writing?" she said, without any preamble.

Clara made her way there, squaring her shoulders as everyone turned to look at her.

Strangely, she didn't feel nervous. She felt like Christin Florey who knew what had to be done.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. I apologise on behalf of Lady Rebecca for ruining your evening. And yes, I am Christin Florey."

She paused as a wave of disbelieving gasps and murmurs went through the crowd.

"Other than keeping my identity a secret, I haven't committed any crime. And I don't see why Lady Rebecca seems so bent on making a mountain out of a mole hill," she finished evenly.

"You insulted everybody," Rebecca screeched, resembling a deranged caracal.

"Who, pray tell me have I insulted?" Clara said, affecting her most innocent expression.

"You compared Lady Katherine to a witch," Rebecca shrieked and Lady Katherine gasped, outraged.

"I'm afraid, that was me, my dear," Lady Heath said, to Clara's great surprise. "In fact, Clara asked for my permission before she published the book. I found it quite amusing, with my beak like nose and all," she smiled, graciously.

"What about calling Lord Moore a blackguard who takes advantage of innocent young women? You called him Lord Boor in your book, it was quite obvious!"

"I never.." Lord Moore started to say, but someone at the back interrupted him.

"Oh that's me! Lady Clara told me that my looks made me seem like the perfect villain. I gave her leave to use me as a reference, though the part about taking advantage of young women is a stretch," said a very tall and devilishly handsome gentleman sheepishly.

Clara was gaping. She tried to shut her mouth, but she couldn't.

Who was this man? She'd never even seen him before and he was taking her side. Lady Heath was her friend and it made sense when she supported Clara. But this made no sense at all.

Before Clara could compose herself though, Rebecca started to speak again, growing more and more desperate.

"You called Lord Riggs fat," she accused.

"That was me," Clara's father chimed in.

"In your latest book, you called Lady Roberta a greedy vulture. I know it was me! I heard you say it," she said, frustrated.

Amy laughed, "I'm sorry, but you're sadly mistaken Rebecca. It's clear as day that Roberta, who was mannerless and shrewd was based on me."

"It's not clear! You don't have a mean bone in your body," Rebecca spit, as if not being mean made Amy lacking in some way.

"And you do?" Amy smirked, setting Rebecca over the edge.

Dear Amy! Clara could just kiss for this.

She began to sputter angrily. Luckily, Lady Hudson dragged her from the stage and left from there.

"This isn't over!" Rebecca was screaming like a banshee as she disappeared through the exit.

But it was over.

The ball resumed, as if nothing had happened. No one seemed to be troubled by Clara's books and many people congratulated her.

She didn't know why she'd even been so terrified in the first place. But she knew that her new title was also responsible for the ton's easy acceptance of her profession.

By then Leo had made his way to her.

"I'm very proud of my wife. And I support her completely," he said, addressing some of the men near him.

The fact that the Duke was proud of his wife was enough for Clara to garner the acceptance, if not approval of their orthodox peers.

Leo smiled, glad that she could finally write in peace. Now the entire ton would know how intelligent and talented she really was. But she'd have to make sure she didn't use obvious pseudo names for her characters from then, he thought amused. Lord Boor, indeed.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered to her.

"Thank you," she mouthed back, her eyes misting.