An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (16 page)

“We’re the same,” Cobb claimed stubbornly. “You just won’t admit it.”

William smiled tightly. “Let’s not speak of this here.”

Truth was, he and Cobb had too much in common. They both liked compliant partners in the bedchamber, but he suspected Cobb was much more focused on delivering pain than pleasure. He’d noticed the state of the women Cobb used afterward. William preferred that his lovers could smile as he left. Cobb preferred his partners weeping.

Cobb grunted. “What does the admiralty say?”

“Nothing new. The peace is holding. My services are not required.”

“So you do have the time,” Cobb insisted.

“I have a wife now, man. She needs me not to desert her. It was my idea to drag her into this marriage.”

Cobb took a long drink and claimed a passing waiter’s attention for another. “Next week then.”

William sighed. “Visiting a brothel again is not high on my list of priorities. The last time did not go so well.”

“Pay them enough and they’d kiss that scar, and anything else of yours, without complaint.”

William stared at his friend with growing annoyance. He didn’t need the reminder that his face scared some women witless. “Excuse me.”

He walked back to Matilda’s side.

Matilda laid her hand upon his arm immediately. “Is everything all right, William?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly and saw disbelief cross her face. Her expression remained wary, as if she did not believe his answer. She had always been too good at reading his moods. He couldn’t tell her what was wrong with him, so he turned the conversation back to her. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

Another frown flickered over her features. “I enjoyed dancing with you.”

He smiled at how she singled him out. She did not dwell on the worst of things but always seemed to most often mention what pleased her. He was glad he was one of her pleasures tonight. “I enjoyed the dance too. Thank you for letting me teach you the steps this week. I know I was very particular about your practice.”

“You almost always are about everything,” she replied and then laughed softly. “I was so afraid I would trip over my own feet and embarrass you.”

“I never imagined you could ever do that to us,” he replied as a grating voice buzzed in his ear.

“I swear I almost fainted when I saw him again,” a woman exclaimed in a shocked tone somewhere behind him. “That scar. That handsome face. Gone forever.”

He turned slightly, belatedly noticing the french doors behind him were ajar, allowing a current of air to cool the room and voices from outside to carry in.

“I’d pity the woman,” another voice claimed just as loudly, “except she made her bed. Now she has to kiss him when she goes to sleep at night. A maid of all things marrying into that exalted family.”

The pair burst out laughing cruelly, heedless of his standing a few feet away. They could not know he could hear them, or perhaps they did not care that he might. His temper rose; his hands clenched. How dare they insult his wife? They had no right to judge her for what he’d set in motion.

Matilda eased against him, and he caught her wrist tightly in an effort to cool his head. She turned back to him, startled. “I was only looking for a footman. My glass is empty, and I’d like to return it.”

“I’ll get you another.”

“Thank you. It is so very warm tonight,” she said as she beat a fan before her face. She glanced behind him and smiled. “I wonder if they will open the doors wider to let in more of a breeze soon.”

Had she not heard those women lurking outside speaking of them both? He took comfort in her ignorance, relieved she’d not heard them talking of her. There would always be gossip, but he would not like her to hear it directly and become upset. “I’ll see to it. Wait here.”

He spun around, moved to the doors and threw them wide, startling both Lady Charlton and Lady Poole completely from their intimate conversation. They were both widows with nothing much to recommend them but that they had daughters of marriageable age.

He smiled coldly at them. “Will anyone be kissing you tonight? I doubt it very much.”

He smiled widely just to alarm them a little more with his appearance but turned away before the stretch of his skin became too much for him to bear. The right word in the right ear could ruin their daughter’s prospects, and they knew it. He had that power within reach; their host was a very good friend, though he’d never thought to ever need to use his connections for revenge before.

But he would to protect Matilda.

He returned to his wife’s welcoming smile, and that soothed him, but she frowned when he rubbed over his scar. “What have you done to your face?”

“Nothing more than smile.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. You must still be very careful.”

“I am. Don’t worry so.”

Her brow arched high. “Is it not my right as wife to concern myself with your health?”

“Not now, Matilda. Do not fuss at me tonight.”

“Yes, William,” she whispered, and the playful light in her eyes died. He had not meant to provoke that reaction. Damn them. Society didn’t matter. Matilda’s happiness did. “I did not mean to snap.”

“Why did you?”

“Not now.” He wrapped her arm about his firmly, then steered her into the crowd in search of a footman and more punch for her, determined never to react so badly to anyone’s opinion about his looks. Matilda liked him as he was, and that had to be enough.

Eleven

M
atilda kicked off her shoes and shrugged her shoulders to shift the unease that was building inside her. Her first night out in society as William’s wife had been all too revealing of how ill prepared she was to live in his world. Their arrival had caused a ripple of conversation to sweep the ballroom ahead of them and for people to turn and stare. The whispers had started almost immediately and continued all night. As a consequence, she had been wary of everyone but his family.

His friends had smiled too broadly at her, as if they knew a secret she did not, and were always watching everything she did and said. She had never felt so self-conscious before.

When William had left her alone for a short while, a woman had pressed for details of their love affair. Then later she’d been discreetly offered a
real
man in her bed as she’d danced mere feet away from her glowering husband. The idea of betraying William had shocked her speechless for the rest of the dance, and she’d been relieved to leave the entertainment somewhat earlier than expected.

She had no idea what she was doing anymore, but she felt she was waiting for William’s next request.

He had never continued the conversation regarding her enjoyment of spanking, for which she was profoundly grateful and suitably chastened. After all, he was paying her to continue the charade of being in love with him, not to be intimate with him.

She’d no idea what he thought most of the time, but she knew his moods. Tension was building in him. She had thought he was softening until tonight. Not that the captain was ever completely gentle where she was concerned. Once they were out of the spotlight of attention, he usually sent her to this drawing room where she sat alone, idly reading a novel or watching the sunset. It was a nice room but far too empty for just herself.

“Are you going to stand there all night or come to bed?”

Matilda shrugged, shivering at the annoyance in his tone. “I thought you had already retired. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

William stood in the doorway to his dressing room, severe and yet oddly comforting in his beautiful clothes and scowl. The scar on his cheek puckered whenever he clenched his jaw, a premonition of his unstable mood. It was just a part of him, like his usual gruff temper, but she still felt apprehension.

She took a step and winced. “Ouch.”

Matilda hobbled to a chair, sat down, and inspected her toes, abused by an earlier dance partner.

“What is wrong?”

She flexed her toes, wincing at a spot of blood on the tip of her fine silk stockings. She eased the material away and hissed at the stab of pain. “Mr. Cobb stomped on my foot harder than I suspected.”

“Let me see,” he said as he crossed into her room in three long strides and sank to his knees at her feet.

He slid his hands under her skirts and tugged, dragging down her stocking by force, ignoring the ribbon tied beneath her knee. It hurt.

“William, you’ll ruin them.”

“Purchase a replacement tomorrow,” he bit out.

However, he gentled as he finished drawing off her stocking. He caressed her skin, then lifted her foot into the light. He swallowed and tightened his fingers around her ankle.

“It’s nothing,” she promised him as she attempted to pull her foot back.

He released her to stand, punching his hands to his hips. “Do not dance with Cobb again.”

Matilda was only too happy to comply. Mr. Cobb’s conversation had made her uneasy. “I will try to avoid him if possible, but he is your friend.”

“My friend should have learned how to dance properly by his age.” He stood quietly a moment, then glanced around and knelt back down at her feet. He removed her other silk stocking with less haste and far more care. “What did Lady Fox say that unsettled you so much?”

“Nothing.” Matilda tucked her feet back under her seat when he was done.

He rubbed her knee slowly. “You were pale after you met her.”

Matilda winced. “You know her well?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes. We met a long time ago.”

There was a strange gleam in his eye as he slid his hand down to her leg and tugged her bare feet into view again. He held her ankles, and her breath caught. His fingers were warm as he tightened them around her limb the way he often did with her wrists.

She was curious about him and risked a question that he might not like to answer. “Did you court her?”

His brows rose. “Why do you ask that?”

“She seemed very pleased to see you. She invited you to dinner.”

“She invited us.”

Matilda shook her head. She had not mistaken Lady Fox. “She invited just you.”

“She likes to make an impression.” He glanced up at her, a wry smile on his lips. “She was testing you. Seeing how you react to a rival.”

So there was something between them. Matilda’s heart sank at the discovery that William was involved with a married woman. “Lord Fox didn’t seem to care that his wife was arranging an intimate dinner with you.” Matilda stared. “Is this how you always behave with other men’s wives?”

“Not since… Not for a very long time.” He nodded slowly as his palm moved up her leg beneath her gown, and his fingers teased the crease at the back of your knee. “The Foxes are a very liberal couple and quite the reverse of most marriages in terms who has the authority.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lady Fox is the dominant one of the pair. It works for them. Lady Fox and I clash often.” He tilted his head. “A woman like Lady Fox could never suit me. We are too similar in temperament.”

“I can see no similarity between you at all,” Matilda insisted.

“Lucky me.” His lips quirked a little as if he was highly amused. “I have a favor to ask.”

Matilda glanced down at his hand where it caressed her leg. She should stop him, but her heart was racing very fast all of a sudden. He had not touched her in this manner before—nor so gently. “Of what nature?”

“It is most likely something you will not want to do.” He shook his head then and found his feet quickly, putting a distance of half the room between them. He was almost to the connecting door before he spoke. “Forgive me. ”

He started to leave, and with a start she realized he was too uncomfortable to continue. Matilda was so tired of whatever great secret her husband meant to conceal from her. She called him back. “What is it you want from me now, William?”

“A friend said something tonight that annoyed me, but afterward I couldn’t help but wonder if he might have a point. It is something I had not considered might be a problem.” He touched the scar on his face. “I don’t know if I can kiss well anymore.”

Her mouth fell open. She could not help but stare at his lips. Was that the reason he’d never tried to kissed her?

“I’ve shocked you,” he said, nodding to himself.

“Well, yes.” Matilda shook her head. “I knew you harbored concerns about resuming your old life after your difficult recovery, but I had never considered you could have doubts about such a personal thing. Of course you can kiss.”

“Soup is problematic, and I cannot whistle, though I could from when I was very young.” He drew close again but stopped behind a chair facing hers. He leaned onto the back, clasping his fingers before him. “I want to know if kissing is something a woman would still enjoy with me. I would not like… I do not wish to horrify the one I kissed if I am bad at it.”

Matilda faltered. She’d bullied him back to life, forced him to accept the reality of his altered looks. Helping him relearn how to kiss a woman had never occurred to her. She didn’t know how to answer him. She’d never actually been kissed before, and that one excuse gave her a valid reason to refuse. “I would not know what constituted a good kiss.”