A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection (19 page)

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the tall, columned Stanthorpe family London residence. Reed’s mother was spending the Season in the country with her sister, so they would have the house entirely to themselves.

“Welcome home, darling,” Reed said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. One corner of his mouth twitched upward, his eyes twinkling. “What I wouldn’t have given to say that to you this time last year.”

She shook her head at his comment. “We didn’t know each other yet this time last year.”

“Oh, I assure you, I knew exactly who you were long before we were formally introduced.”

That was a bouncer if ever she’d heard one. The Stanthorpes sat on a more elevated rung of Society than her family could claim. She doubted Reed had taken even a passing notice of her before being all but forced to dance with her at the Parvells’ ball the Season before.

 Lucy gave his shoulder a playful shove. “You are an unrepentant flirt, my dear.”

“I speak only the truth.”

The carriage door opened. The footman put down the step. Reed folded his paper and tucked it under his arm then stepped out of the carriage. He turned back once his feet were on the walk and held his hand out for her. He never failed to offer her that courtesy, just as he always offered his arm when they walked together and kissed her farewell every time they parted. Was it any wonder she adored this thoughtful, loving man?

Reed pulled her arm through his and walked with her up the front steps, where the butler held the door for their arrival. “Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Stanthorpe.”

Lucy only just held back a giggle. Even after seven months, she still loved to hear herself addressed as Mrs. Stanthorpe.

“We are most happy to be back in Town again, Taylor,” Reed said. “I trust our rooms are ready for us?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Perfect. Would you send word to the kitchens to have our dinner brought to Mrs. Stanthorpe’s sitting room?”

“Of course, sir.”

She and Reed walked up the elegant front staircase. “Oh, darling,” she said. “This will be the very best Season I have ever spent in London. I am certain of it.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Indeed. I find myself looking forward to the next few months, something I don’t usually feel at this time of year.”

Musicales. Balls. Soirees. The theater.
Her mind simply spun with all of the wonderful things they would see and do. And they would see and do them together.

It would all be perfect. Positively perfect.

Reed Stanthorpe couldn’t imagine a better prospect for a London Season. Days at his club. Afternoons at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon. Quiet evenings at home. Heaven knew he’d spent more than his share of Seasons forced into the social whirl. If there’d been any other way of undertaking a courtship, he’d have jumped at the opportunity.

But he was a married man now. No longer would he have to run from one social engagement to another, or stay up until all hours of the night, or drag himself through the interminable evenings at Almack’s. He wouldn’t need to endure the tiresome company of Society every single evening. He’d have Lucy’s companionship, which was all he really wanted. Most everyone else grew tedious after a few encounters.

“What do you think of this gown, dearest?” Lucy leaned closer to him. They sat side by side on the sofa in her sitting room, having finished the fine meal Cook sent up for them. Lucy pointed to a sketch of a gown in her copy of
La Belle Assemblée
. “This style is a bit bolder than any I’ve worn before, but I’m a married woman now, so I’m permitted more options.”

Reed didn’t know much about ladies’ fashions and couldn’t say what exactly was different about the gown she pointed out from those she’d worn before. “I think it’s lovely.”

“So do I.”

He adored the way her eyes danced about when she was excited. Society had such a dampening effect on the natural exuberance of a debutante. He’d seen that in her face when they’d been introduced. She was bubbling over with life and enthusiasm. He’d known from that moment on that he simply had to know her better— that the woman behind those dancing eyes was worth the aggravation of endless social calls and balls and trips to the theatre.

“And, thank the heavens, I am no longer confined to pastels.” Lucy groaned dramatically, as if her previous color palette had been a most excruciating form of torture. “I have decided I absolutely must have a dress in a vibrant shade of blue.”

Reed nodded his approval. Though he knew little about fashion, his lovely wife already had a dressing gown of blue. When she wore that shade, her eyes looked like sapphires, and her hair shone like gold.

“I am sorely tempted to buy myself a matching silk turban with a very tall feather to wear at balls,” she declared firmly.

“Good gracious, no.”

His immediate objection brought a wide-eyed look of surprise to her face.

“Darling,” he said. “Only the oldest and dreariest of matrons wear feathered turbans.”

“Doesn’t your mother wear one?”

“Yes, which is—” He stopped short at the overly innocent look in her eyes. She was funning him, the little minx. Two could play at that game. “Which is, come to think of it, actually a very convincing argument. A feathered turban, yes, but don’t neglect a powdered wig to complete the ensemble.”

Her smile spread until her dimples reappeared. “A powdered wig for you as well, my dear. And knee breeches and heeled dancing slippers with great gold buckles.”

“And shall I sport yards and yards of lace as well?” he asked.

“Of course.” She looked ready to burst with laughter. “We will be quite the fashionable couple amongst the older set.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. “As much as I complain about the ridiculously close cut of today’s jackets and the tedious nature of having my cravat tied in the latest style, I do not for one moment wish to trade that for the cumbersome fashions of our parents’ generation.”

Lucy set her magazine on the seat beside her and shifted so she knelt on the cushion facing him. She reached up and touched his face. “Even in the most ridiculous fashions, you would be the most handsome gentleman I’ve ever known.”

“Flattery, my love?”

“I speak only the truth,” she said, repeating the declaration he’d made in the carriage earlier. Her teasing tone indicated she’d chosen the response on purpose.

Reed kissed her well and deeply before pulling her fully into his arms. Yes, a Season spent quietly at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Society. Just the two of them. The perfect London Season.

Chapter Two

“Reed.” Lucy stood in the doorway of Reed’s bedchamber, looking with dismay on her husband in his shirtsleeves, his cravat tossed aside, and his feet shoeless. “You cannot go out dressed the way you are.”

Though none of her new, fashionable gowns had arrived from the
modiste
, she had chosen the most modish of her older gowns to wear that night. Her abigail had threaded ribbons through her hair and quite artfully tucked tiny white flowers throughout. And Lucy had chosen to wear the amber necklace Reed had given her at Christmas. She’d taken great pains in her preparations, and there Reed sat in his shirtsleeves.

He kept his gaze on the paper held unfolded in front of him. “I mean to stay in tonight.”

Lucy stepped inside. Surely Reed was teasing. He’d required prodding each evening since their arrival in London, but tonight was different. They were scheduled to attend the Parvells’ ball, the event at which they had first been introduced the year before. On that night a year earlier, she’d arrived nervous and unsettled, so afraid of spending the evening as a wallflower. But then she’d met him, and everything in both of their lives had changed for the better. The Parvells’ ball would always be special to the two of them.

Lucy stepped inside. “Tonight is the
Parvells’ ball
, dearest,” she reminded him.

“We have been out every evening this week,” he said. “I am too weary to go out again.”

They had indeed attended several functions over the past few nights, but Reed had insisted on returning home long before the events were over. They’d not been out late; neither had they attended more than one function in any given evening. Furthermore, he’d spent the day at his club. How could he be too tired for a ball, especially
this
one? This was their special anniversary.

“We replied to the invitation already, Reed. The Parvells are expecting us.”

“The ball will be exceptionally crowded.” He turned a page of the paper, slumping down in his chair a little more. He was the very picture of a gentleman settling in for a long, leisurely read. “The Parvells will not notice our absence, nor will they care.”

“I will care,” she answered. “I have been looking forward to this evening. And I am already dressed to go.”

“But, as you pointed out,” he said, “I am not.”

“I cannot go without you,” she said, her voice quieter than before. Married women had more freedom than unmarried, but to attend a ball without her husband when they were only newly married would be not only noted, but fodder for the gossips. More than that, she
wanted
him to go with her. “We needn’t stay beyond the supper dance.”

He lowered his paper and looked at her over it, his expression one of near exasperation. “The supper dance isn’t until one o’clock in the morning. I have no desire to be out that late.”

“But we would be out together. And we could dance with each other.”

“We have been out almost every night since arriving in Town.”

She stepped to his chair, unsure what to make of the annoyance in his face. “Have you not enjoyed the Season thus far?”

“I would enjoy the Season far more if I were permitted to spend it in peace and quiet.” His sincerity could not have been more apparent. He didn’t seem angry, simply determined to remain home.

Lucy held back the immediate protest that sprang to her lips. Perhaps he really was tired. He had objected the evening before, and she’d pleaded with him until he agreed, just as she had the evening before that and the one before that. She didn’t want to argue with him again. If he didn’t wish to go to their special anniversary ball, she wouldn’t press him to.

“I won’t pester you to go. There will certainly be other balls.” She managed a bit of a smile.

“Yes, there are always other balls,” he said dryly, a touch of a smile on his face.

Lucy pondered that a moment, even after Reed raised his paper once more. He’d always seemed to enjoy balls while he was courting her. Not only balls; he’d eagerly sought her out at musicales and soirees, and he’d visited her family box at the theatre every time she was in attendance. So why was he chafing so much at the social whirl now? While they were yet unwed, he could only have enjoyed her company for the brief moments allotted a couple with no understanding between them. But now married, they would have each other’s company the entire night at whatever event they attended.

Perhaps that is the difficulty. He has grown weary of me.

Lucy refused to ponder that idea more deeply. “I’ll leave you to your paper, then.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

He gave her a fleeting smile then returned to his reading once more. She returned to her room. There was no need to tug the bell pull; her lady’s maid hadn’t left yet.

“Were you needing something else, ma’am?” The maid’s look of confusion was more than understandable.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Lucy said, keeping her expression and tone light. “We will be staying in tonight.”

And they stayed in the next night, and the night after that. For an entire fortnight, the pattern repeated. She dressed for the evening’s engagement then attempted to convince him to join her. Sometimes he did. Most times he did not.

The night of her dearest friend Fanny Alistair’s ball, Lucy stepped into Reed’s room once more, a feeling of dread settling on her shoulders. She’d lived this moment so many times over the past weeks, never sure if Reed would agree to an evening out. He’d not once agreed to attend a ball.

Her heart dropped at finding her husband in his usual nightly state of half-dress. They’d spoken only that morning at breakfast of Fanny’s ball and Lucy’s desire to attend. He couldn’t have forgotten.

“Reed?”

He looked up. She could see in his eyes that he knew immediately what she’d come to ask. “I suppose this means you don’t wish to stay in tonight?”

“Tonight is Fanny’s ball,” she reminded him. “I have longed to attend a ball.”

His shoulders slumped. “There will always be others. We needn’t to go to all of them.”

“
All
of them? We haven’t gone to any of them.”

“But balls are so tedious. Wouldn’t you rather have a quiet evening—”

“A quiet evening at home?” She repeated the phrase she’d heard from him more than any other the past two weeks. “There wasn’t a single Society function last Season you didn’t seem to make an appearance at,” Lucy said. “You danced with me at every ball, sat beside me at every musicale.”