Bride for a Night (33 page)

He had barely managed to take a step toward the door, however, when she touched her fingers to his cheek to capture his attention.

“A moment.”

He tilted back his head to glance toward the heavens. “Lord, no.”

“I have one last question.”

“You are deliberately attempting to punish me,” he muttered.

“Why did you not just admit why you wished me to remain at Carrick Park?” she demanded. “You made me believe that you were embarrassed to have me as your wife.”

He heaved a sigh, lowering his head to stab her with an impatient glare.

“Because I had no notion you could be so foolish.”

Her lips flattened in warning. “Gabriel.”

“I did not wish you to believe I was troubled by what society thinks of you, because I am not,” he said in a tight voice. “So far as I am concerned, they can all rot in the deepest pits of hell. But I knew eventually you would want to return to London, and I wished to make certain they could no longer hurt you with their vile tongues. But I did it for you and your comfort. Never because I cared what they might say.”

“Oh.” Her fingers drifted to his lips. “I love you.”

“Thank God.” He cast her a pleading gaze. “Now can we please retire to our chambers?”

Her soft chuckle filled the air. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

Eight months later

T
HE BALLROOM
on the top floor of the Ashcombe’s London townhouse was a long, ivory room with a parquet floor that had been polished until it glowed. There were a dozen gilded half columns that framed the numerous double doors leading into the attached rooms that had been set up for dinner as well as card rooms for those who preferred to avoid the crowded dance floor. And overhead there was a vaulted ceiling with three massive chandeliers that were reflected in the soaring mirrors at each end of the room.

Talia stood on a dais beneath the balcony where the orchestra played a rousing country tune, dancers spinning about her in a dizzying array of brilliant satins and glittering jewels. Talia allowed a smile of pure contentment to curve her lips.

Although she had slowly come to trust Gabriel’s mother as she had escorted Talia from one society event to another, she could not deny her trepidation when the older woman had insisted that she and Gabriel host their own ball.

It did not matter that she had been invited into the most exclusive homes in London over the past weeks. Or even that the frosty receptions had slowly melted to a measure of genuine welcome as she’d lost her reserve and managed to converse without her usual stammering. The fear that no one would bother to attend her first gathering had refused to be dismissed.

Now she realized that she need not have worried.

The townhouse was nearly groaning beneath the weight of the vast crowd, and Vale had recently whispered in her ear that he had been forced to turn away several uninvited guests.

Of course, her obvious triumph as a hostess was not the true reason for her contentment.

Or at least not entirely.

She was certainly vain enough to take pleasure in the sight of the
ton
filling her home. She beamed in pride as she gazed down her pretty blue satin ball gown with silver trimming about the hem. The low-cut bodice was stitched with rows of pearls that matched the strands of pearls threaded through her dark curls.

But she had far more important matters to fill her heart with joy.

Her smile widened as she recalled Gabriel’s fierce relief upon receiving a note this morning from Harry. His brother was well and currently traveling through India where he had encountered several other English noblemen who were touring the country.

The assurance that his brother had fully recovered and that he was far away from Jacques Gerard and France healed a wound that had plagued Gabriel since their flight from Calais.

But in truth, it was the tiny surprise growing within her that offered the greatest sense of pleasure.

“I hope you are pleased.” Joining her on the dais, Hannah Lansing waved a plump hand toward the twirling couples. “The ball is an undoubted success.”

Talia nodded, her gaze running down Hannah’s white tulle dress that was layered over a lavender underskirt with matching feathers in her hair. The young maiden might not be considered a beauty, but there was a fresh
innocence in her round face and a ready humor in her dark eyes.

And of course, there was no mistaking the newfound confidence that only added to her natural attraction.

A confidence that came from being pursued by one of the most sought-after bachelors in all of London.

“It does appear to be well attended,” she agreed.

“Well attended?” Hannah’s chuckle drifted over the near deafening sounds that filled the ballroom. “I have never seen such a mad scramble for invitations. I heard rumors that even the prince refused to leave Carlton House until he was certain he had been included on your guest list.”

“It is quite amazing,” Talia said, recalling her breathless astonishment when the prince had arrived with his current mistress, staying long enough to kiss her hand and speak a few words with Gabriel before he was making his grand exit. “I would never have dreamed it possible only a year ago.”

“Good heavens, no.” Hannah pointed toward the small alcove at the far end of the room. “We both would have been cowering in that shadowed corner.”

“True enough.” Talia gave a small shake of her head, glancing toward Gabriel’s mother, who held court among the matrons, her stately form encased in a rose satin gown and her still-golden hair smoothly knotted at the nape of her neck. “My mother-in-law is a formidable woman. Gabriel promised she would force society to accept me and she has performed nothing less than a miracle.”

Hannah lightly batted her arm with an ivory fan. “I do not doubt that the dowager was responsible for ensuring you received the proper respect for your position as the Countess of Ashcombe, but it is your own efforts that have captivated them,” she said, casting a rueful glance
toward the same guests who had once made their lives such a misery. “The pompous fools had no notion that the daughter of a merchant could possess such charm and wit.”

Talia shrugged. A large measure of her bitterness had been thankfully eased by Gabriel’s unwavering love for her.

“Not that I would ever excuse their appalling behavior toward us,” she said, her attention shifting to the tall, golden-haired man who still made her heart leap with excitement. Especially when he was appearing at his finest in a black jacket and gold waistcoat with white knee breeches. Reluctantly she turned her attention back to her companion. “But I was too shy and frightened of others to reveal any charm, and certainly no wit.”

Hannah nodded with an understanding that only the two of them could share. “And now?”

“And now I no longer concern myself with their opinion so I can actually enjoy myself.”

“That much is obvious,” Hannah agreed, studying her with a curious gaze. “You are glowing.”

Talia hesitated. Thus far she had shared her news only with Gabriel, preferring to avoid the avid interest it was bound to stir among the nobles. And then there was her father’s reaction, not to mention Gabriel’s mother…well, she had decided she intended to be far away from London when word leaked out that she was breeding.

Hannah, however, was one of the few people she trusted in the world to keep her secret.

“My glow has nothing to do with society,” she said, laying a meaningful hand over her stomach.

It took only a moment for Hannah to realize what she was implying, and with a small squeal of excitement, she
gave Talia a swift hug before arranging her features into a careful mask to avoid attracting unwanted curiosity.

“Have you warned your mother-in-law that her considerable efforts to install you as the leader of London society will be brought to an early end?” she teased.

“Not yet,” Talia confessed. “I am still waiting for Gabriel to recover from his shock. The poor man has been walking about as if he is in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, for the past week.”

“He is pleased, is he not?” Hannah asked in sudden concern.

Talia rolled her eyes. “Outrageously pleased, as well as maddeningly overprotective.” She gave a rueful shake of her head, already sensing her time of confinement was bound to be a battle of wills. Gabriel was of a mind that she should spend the majority of her day lying in bed as if she were an invalid rather than a perfectly healthy mother-to-be with an overabundance of energy. “As soon as I shared my suspicion of my condition, he demanded that we pack our bags and return to Carrick Park. It was only my warning that I would never forgive him for forcing us to miss our own ball that kept him from bundling me in the carriage and leaving that moment.”

Hannah laughed. “So when
do
you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Talia shrugged. “And while I have enjoyed being in London, I will not deny it will be a pleasure to return home.”

“I will miss you.”

Talia reached to grab her friend’s hand. “You are always welcome at my home, no matter what you have been told in the past.” Talia glanced toward the man who had so rudely escorted Hannah from Carrick Park months before. Attired in a dark jacket that was molded to his large body and white knee breeches, Hugo leaned against
a gilded column, not bothering to hide his unwavering interest in the young woman standing at Talia’s side. “Although I doubt you will be eager to leave London.”

“Oh, I do not know,” Hannah said, a forced airiness in her voice. “It might be fun to spend a few weeks away from the bustle of town.”

“Really, Hannah, how long do you intend to torture the poor man?” Talia demanded, feeling a genuine sympathy for the nobleman who had pursued Hannah with a single-minded devotion.

Hannah’s smile faded as she turned to regard Talia with a somber expression.

“It is not torture,” she said, her eyes shimmering with a yearning that stole Talia’s breath. “I merely need for Hugo to be certain that he will not come to regret his proposal.”

“He could never regret having you as his wife.”

Hannah shook her head. “I appreciate your loyalty, but we both know I have nothing to offer a man such as Lord Rothwell.”

“Do not—”

“Come, Talia,” Hannah interrupted, her expression troubled. “I have no lands, no dowry, not even beauty. What if he grows weary of me?”

Talia squeezed her friend’s hand, knowing with all her heart that Hugo would devote his life to her happiness.

“A man that weds you because of your land or dowry or beauty would quite likely grow weary of you,” she warned. “But a man who weds you because he loves you will always remain true.” Giving a tug with her hand, she urged Hannah off the dais and toward the waiting nobleman. “Now go and join him before Hugo ruins my lovely ball with that dreadful scowl.”

Hannah paused to send her a teasing grin. “What of you?”

Talia’s gaze shifted toward the man who had stolen her heart and given her a life filled with endless promise, her heart forgetting to beat as he flashed her a smile filled with wicked impatience.

“I intend to have a last waltz with my husband before convincing him that no one will miss us if we slip away.”

“Be happy, my friend,” Hannah called, turning to thread her way through the dancers to Hugo’s waiting arms.

“Always,” Talia murmured.