A Perfect Groom (25 page)
“Nothing,” he repeated. “I return home to find my wife in tears, and you say it’s nothing? God’s blood, I thought something terrible had happened! I thought…Christ. I don’t know what I thought!”
Still she looked away, everywhere but at him. “Please release me, Justin. I should like a bit of privacy to recover myself, if you don’t mind.”
Her dismissal cut him to the quick. But Justin knew what was wrong. Clearly she was unhappy. Clearly she regretted their marriage. The letter to her parents proclaimed her happiness…yet her behavior told the tale only too well.
His mouth tight, he released her. “Very well, then.”
She whirled, clearly anxious to be quit of him.
His voice stopped her just before she reached the door. “We’ll leave for the Farthingales’ at half-past seven.”
He saw the way her back stiffened before she turned back to him. “I prefer to stay at home tonight,” she stated with implicit politeness.
Justin was already shaking his head. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, my love. You see, I chanced to see Lord Farthingale and several of his friends while I was out. I mentioned we would be in attendance tonight. If we are not, that will surely set tongues to wagging. And I understood you to say that’s the very thing you wish to avoid, is it not?”
Clearly she did not appreciate his reminder. She glared her displeasure. “As you wish, then.”
Shortly before
“We’ve arrived,” Justin stated flatly.
A footman opened the door and assisted her out.
Not a word had passed between them in the carriage. The tension was stifling. Justin was cool and distant; he’d said barely a word since the incident in the study.
In all her days, she didn’t know when she’d been so miserable. Pride alone stayed her tears, sheer willpower her trepidation.
They had no sooner set foot inside the ballroom than they were immediately surrounded. There were congratulations and well-wishes — but off to the right, someone smirked.
“Aren’t you the lucky gent, to succeed with The Unattainable where the others failed, eh,
Sterling
?”
Oh, and to think she’d been convinced she would never be called The Unattainable again!
Beside her, Justin gave an easy laugh. He made a great show of curling her hand possessively into his elbow and covering it with his. “Ah, but my wife is no ordinary woman. I knew I must get her to the altar as fast as I could — and so I did.”
“Why, whatever do you mean, McElroy?” cried a female voice. “There are many of us who wonder how
she
managed to capture the handsomest man in all
England
!”
There was an answering snicker from a beauteous blonde dressed in green. “Perhaps the better question is how she will manage to keep him!”
An elegant turbaned head turned in the direction of both women. There came the distinct thump of a cane. “A pity that has escaped your own marriage,” proclaimed a familiar voice. “Why, I’ve heard it said ‘tis a marvel you and your beloved still manage to recall each other’s names. Furthermore, had you been given the privilege of witnessing their first kiss as husband and wife — as I was — I daresay not a soul here would presume to question their devotion to each other.”
Arabella blinked. A part of her wanted to applaud the Dowager Duchess of Carrington. Another part of her wanted to march over to the beauteous little blonde and bloody her pretty little nose — hardly a ladylike reaction.
Her gaze slid to Justin’s features, only to discover one dark brow hiked in wicked amusement. He gave a little salute to the duchess, then lowered his mouth to her ear. His lips brushed the curve of her cheek as he spoke for her benefit alone. “I would suggest another demonstration is in order, but that was well said, was it not? Besides, who better to have as our staunchest defender than the Dowager Duchess of Carrington, eh, my love? Now, what say we greet our host and hostess?”
Arabella bit her lip as they walked away. “She’s outrageous.”
“And revels in it, too,” he agreed. “If ever there’s a woman to have as your champion, it’s the duchess.” He laughed softly. “She wields her cane like a weapon. It’s a sight unlike any other. I give you fair warning, Arabella, should you see it come up, leap back and stand clear.”
“Her cane?” Arabella queried. “I rather thought it was her tongue she wielded like a weapon.”
“That, too, and between them, you understand why few dare challenge such a formidable opponent.”
“Well, I like her,” Arabella announced.
“Yes, I do believe you two are rather alike,” Justin observed.
Justin remained at her side throughout most of the evening. To all appearances, he no doubt presented a thoroughly attentive husband, for he retained a possessive hand at her elbow, bending his head close whenever she spoke, as if he hung upon her every word.
But neither had forgotten the argument that preceded their arrival. She sensed it with everything she possessed, and it made her ache inside. She longed for the closeness that had marked their week in
Bath
. To make matters worse, for the life of her, she couldn’t explain her behavior, not even to herself! She had no idea what had made her cry, only that something had.
She managed to maintain her composure, however. The muscles of her face began to ache from smiling, but above all, she had no intention of causing further gossip.
Lord Farthingale approached. “May I steal your husband away for a moment? I’m sharing a bottle of my best brandy with several of the gentlemen and I should like to offer a toast to the happy groom.”
Ah, if he only knew, Arabella thought half-hysterically. Lightly she said, “Who am I to keep you gentlemen from such an occasion?”
Farthingale grinned. “I shan’t keep him away long, I promise.”
Arabella chatted with several acquaintances, then moved to stand near a marble column at the far side of the ballroom. It was then she spotted Georgiana, who gave a wave and joined her.
“Arabella! How are you?” Georgiana laughed. “Oh, I confess it seems so odd to think of you as a married lady now!”
Arabella wanted to scream, certain she could not endure one more comment about her new marital state. But she gave herself a mental kick. Georgiana was the one person who would know something was amiss if she was not careful.
“I may be married,” she said lightly, “but I hardly consider myself a matron.”
Georgiana frowned. “I say, are you feeling quite the thing?”
“Splendid,” Arabella lied cheerfully, “though it has been a very full day. We only arrived back from
Bath
at noonday, you know.”
They chatted for some time, and made plans to go shopping next week. It had been quite a while and Justin still hadn’t returned. Arabella scanned the ballroom.
Georgiana saw and laughed. “Such an anxious bride,” Georgiana teased. “There he is.”
Arabella frowned. “Where?”
“Coming this way…Oh, but now I see Lady Dunsbrook has stopped him.”
Arabella’s heart seemed to trip. “Agatha Dunsbrook?”
“Yes. I didn’t know the two of you were acquainted.”
“We’re not,” Arabella said quickly. “I believe I’ve heard the name, though.”
Indeed, Arabella thought vaguely, it was true. For she suddenly remembered vividly the night of the masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens, the conversation she’d overheard about Justin…and his many mistresses. What was it they had said?
It would not be beyond reason to say that he’s bedded down with fully half the women here tonight, now, would it?
And this woman among them.
She couldn’t stop the sheer, stark pain that wrenched at her insides. Nor could she tear her gaze away from Agatha Dunsbrook.
She could scarcely imagine anyone more beautiful. Soft, blond ringlets were caught up on her crown. Petite, Agatha did not even reach Justin’s shoulder. She was, Arabella decided, a study in grace and loveliness, all the things that she could never be.
Tipping her glass to her lips, she drained the champagne.
“I met her last week,” Georgiana went on. “I do not intend to be mean-spirited, but I confess, I really did not care for her. Do you remember Henrietta Carlson?”
“Implicitly,” came Arabella’s response.
“Well, she put me in mind of Henrietta.”
Which was not a good thing. It was one thing to be pretty. After all, Georgiana was pretty
and
sweet. But to be pretty and unkind…
“Oh, I hear my name,” Georgiana said. “I shall see you next week, if not before, love.”
Arabella bade her good-bye. Her attention returned to Justin, who was still with Agatha. Even as she watched, Agatha tiptoed her fingertips so they snuggled into Justin’s elbow. She stepped closer, then reached up to touch Justin’s cheek.
Agatha has her eye on him again
, one of the women had said.
Ah, but Arabella could well believe it, for the gesture was shamelessly bold.
She felt dizzy. Weak. It was the champagne, she thought hazily. Hauling in a breath, she forced herself to look away, gathering herself in hand.
In that instant, Arabella made a vow to herself.
She would not be rash. She would not be hasty. But she would not allow Agatha Dunsbrook to make a fool of her, either.
In three seconds, if Agatha Dunsbrook was still with her husband — by God,
her
husband — she would march over and pry Agatha’s pink little fingers from her husband’s arm, then wrap her own around Agatha’s pretty little neck. At the thought, one hand began to flex.
One.
Two.
Three.
She looked up. Neither Justin nor Agatha was in sight.
“Not getting tipsy again, are we?”
Her husband stood before her. Taking her empty champagne glass, he gave it to a passing footman.
Arabella regarded him unsmilingly. His gaze sharpened. “Are you unwell?”
Slowly she let out her breath. “I’m fine,” she said with a shake of her head. “Truly, I am.”
He studied her, as if to assess the truth of her statement. “Do you realize,” he said softly, “we are standing in the very place where we renewed our acquaintance last month?”
Arabella bit her lip. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”
He cocked a brow. “How could I forget?”
“I was hiding from Walter that night,” she confided. “I was afraid he was going to propose.”
“And instead I found you. Instead
I
proposed.”
Their eyes locked.
Agatha was forgotten.
Everything
was forgotten. She wanted to throw herself against him and start the day all over again. Forget that stupid, silly argument…
He caught her hand within his and raised it. He did not kiss it, but held it suspended so close to his she could feel the moist warmth of his breath upon her skin.
She smiled slightly. “What, sir, are you going to lick me again like you did the last time?”
“Your memory errs,” he said immediately. “I bit you the first time. I licked you the last time.” The corners of his lips flirted at a smile. He retained possession of her hand. “Ah, I see more than a few heads turning in our direction. Should I do so again, it might cause more talk.”
“Ah, but we are wed now.”
He kissed her knuckles, then weaved his fingers through hers. “You tempt me, sweet. But I warn you, I would not be content with tasting merely the inside of your wrist. Why, I vow I would lick you all the way up to your lips, and there I would feast.” With his free hand he traced a flaming line up and down the length of her bare arm, exposed above elbow-length lace gloves.
The prospect sent the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Justin,” she said faintly, “as you just noted, we have an audience.”
“I anticipate the moment when we
don’
t
.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she stated weakly.
“Why not? As
you
just pointed out, we are wed. I can say such things knowing you won’t slap me.”
“Yes, but still…Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“As if…” Hot color rose from her throat to her cheeks; she could feel its betraying heat.
“As if I should like to devour you inch by inch?”
“Yes!”
“And I shall. But that, I fear, must come later.”
She could feel everything inside going weak. “Are you making advances toward me, my lord?”
“I once promised that when I did, you should know it.”
“Yes, and you shall give husbands a bad name, should you appear quite taken with your wife.”
“Perhaps because it’s true.”