Lord Deverill's Heir (36 page)

“You’re back! Where have you been?” She realized that he was staring pointedly at her breasts, and waved her hand at him. “Look at my face or you will make me blush like the maiden I was until just a short time ago.

Yes, that’s better. No, you’re still staring at me. All right, my lord.” She stood up, sending the water sloshing over the sides of the tub.

“Oh my God.”

She grabbed the towel off the stool beside the tub and quickly held it in front of her.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said, disappointment stark in his voice. He sounded almost as if he wanted to cry. “Perhaps you would consider dropping that towel? You’re beautiful. Do we have time before we must dress for dinner? Ten minutes would suffice, maybe less. Indeed, much less.”

She stared at him. “You want me? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, actually, it is very likely that I could also be wanting you, very much, right at this very moment. You say less than ten minutes?” She dropped the towel, looked at him and said, “Justin. The thought of ten minutes or less with you makes me shake. A full night would make me shake harder, but I shan’t quibble. One takes what one can get when one can get it.”

“I love your brain. Yes, let’s do—”

There was a knock on the bedchamber door. “My lady?” It was Grace.

Arabella grabbed the towel from at her feet. “Damn,” she said. “Oh damn.

It’s Grace.” She wagged her finger at her husband. “You will come back very soon and tell me what you found this afternoon in the comte’s room.” He gave her a small salute, his voice filled with a wealth of sorrow. “I would rather you dropped that towel for me again.” He sighed deeply and laid his palm over his heart. He turned on his heel and disappeared through the adjoining door.

She was seated in front of her dressing table, Grace behind her arranging a dark blue ribbon through her black hair, when the earl reappeared, a black jewelry box in his hand.

“Ah,” he said, “you haven’t yet selected a necklace for that gown.” The gown in question was a pale silvery gray, quite flattering, and Arabella hated it for what it represented. At least it wasn’t black.

“No,” she said, eyeing him in the mirror, “I haven’t picked anything.” She looked at that jewelry box in his hand. Slowly, very slowly, teasing her, he opened it, but held it away from her. “Your father told me to give this to you after we were married. He said it belonged to his grandmother, that he had never given it to either of his wives. He said that it was to be yours.” The earl held it out to her.

Arabella sucked in her breath. It was a three-strand necklace of perfectly matched pale pink pearls. There were earrings and a bracelet to match. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She fingered the pearls, pressing them into her palm. They felt warm to the touch.

“Ah, Justin, put them on me.”

He leaned down, kissed the nape of her neck, ignoring Grace who was quite interested in this connubial behavior, and fastened the pearls around her neck. Arabella looked at herself in the mirror. “I had hated the gray gown until just this moment,” she said.

“And now?”

“The pearls—they make it seem to glisten. It’s amazing. The pearls are nearly as beautiful as you, my lord. Thank you.” She heard Grace sigh, and added, “Naturally, the earrings are far more intriguing than you could ever be, but nonetheless, there is still the bracelet. Regardless of where you fall in the spectrum, you are still adequate.”

She was laughing as she turned around. “Grace, thank you for your help.

Please excuse his lordship and me. We are newly wedded and thus are quite silly. His lordship has convinced me it is a requirement of persons not married longer than twenty years.”

“I believe I said forty years.”

Grace didn’t want to leave, that was obvious, but as Arabella just kept looking at her, she was forced to curtsy and quit the bedchamber, her footfall heavy.

The earl laughed, leaned down, and kissed Arabella’s neck again. “Are you certain they are as beautiful as I am?” he whispered, then lightly bit her neck.

She leaned back against him. “I don’t wear so many clothes. It would be simple, but—”

He eased his hands down her bodice. Her flesh was warm and soft and he thought he’d never survive the assault. “No,” he said. “No, there isn’t time. Actually two minutes would be enough, but then you would disdain me because I was a pig.” Slowly, he lifted his hands out of her gown. His palms tingled. He managed to draw away from her, but it was difficult. It was late and he knew it, dammit. “Put on the bracelet and earrings. We must go downstairs, curse the lateness and the heavens.” She giggled, a perfectly delightful sound to her husband. He closed his eyes a moment, breathing in her particular woman scent, listening to that giggle. They were so much alike—two stubborn mules—and yet so wonderfully different from each other. Thank God.

It wasn’t until they were all seated in the Deverill carriage that Arabella realized she didn’t know if Justin had found anything of significance in Gervaise’s bedchamber. Nor did she know if he had made any plans this evening.

It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let the comte out of her sight this evening. Her eyes were slits as she gazed across the narrow space at him, seated next to Lady Ann, Elsbeth on her other side. It was well done of her mother to keep them separated. Obviously, Arabella thought, her mother now knew the lay of the land. She well imagined that her mother was as filled with questions as she was.

Talgarth Hall was a low, rambling mansion in the Georgian style, erected by the father of the present Lord Talgarth. A mere upstart mushroom, Arabella’s father had once remarked as he gazed upon his own awesome mansion, Evesham Abbey. Still, to be fair, it was a lovely house, rendered more so on this moonlit night by the bright candlelight shining through its myriad sparkling windows, lighting the carriages of the local gentry in attendance. Roaring flambeaux were held by a score of footmen, most of which had been hired in for the occasion, Suzanne had told Arabella that afternoon behind her hand, giggling. “Mama,” she had told Arabella, “had to instruct them first what flambeaux were—most of them thought it was some sort of dish to eat—and then what they were to do with them.”

With a flourishing bow, the earl opened their carriage door and solicitously assisted each lady to alight. Arabella was the last, and as Justin took her hand, her fingers tightened about his.

“Come, love,” he said quietly, “all will be well, you will see. Just stay close to your mother and Dr. Branyon. I will take care of everything.” She searched his face. There was no expression there save for the stark danger she read in his eyes. “The devil you will,” she said just as quietly. “You cannot put me in a closet to keep me safe. I am part of this, Justin. If you forget again, I will have to do something perfectly outrageous.” He felt her hand moving down the front of his britches. He grabbed her hand and drew it up to his mouth, kissing her palm.

“I won’t forget,” he said. “But heed me, I am your husband and I will take care of the comte. You will do exactly as I tell you. I will take no more chances with your safety. I mean it. Obey me, Arabella.” Her chin went into the air. She pulled her hand away from his and marched up the stairs of the Talgarth mansion, Lady Ann and Elsbeth following after her. As for the comte, he already awaited all of them at the top of the stairs.

Lady Talgarth swooped down upon them before the butler could announce them formally, her overly bright, toothy smile embracing them all, except possibly, Lady Ann. “Ah, my dears, how very delightful. My dear Ann, how very exquisite you are this evening. The gray is so much less black than it should be, don’t you agree? Of course, I should never be seen wearing a color that did not show proper respect, but all of us are different, are we not?”

“Very different, thank the good Lord,” Arabella said. “Come, Mother, let us mingle.” She grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her into the vast ballroom of Talgarth Hall. Every neighbor in the entire area was present.

Flocks of brightly colored peacocks, Arabella thought, a magnificent sight.

“Really, my darling,” Lady Ann said, laughter lurking in her voice, “you show her no pity.”

“She’s a bitch,” Arabella said, her voice indifferent. “But who cares?

You certainly don’t. I know Suzanne will be much better off when she is married and away from her. I just hope she can find someone as splendid as Justin for her husband. But I fear there is no other man to match him.”

“Spoken like a girl blindly, madly, in love,” Lady Ann said. “I am pleased, dearest. I spoke with Justin, as you have probably already guessed. He told me everything. Well, I don’t know if that’s true or not.

At least he told me enough. You and I will discuss it later.” She was already searching about her. “Has Paul arrived yet, I wonder?

Unfortunately, I was unable to see him during the day, as you know. Or perhaps you don’t, since you’re so involved with your husband.” Now that, Arabella thought, keeping her mouth firmly closed, was an understatement. “Oh look, Mama, there’s Suzanne. Isn’t she lovely? I love that shade of pink on her.”

Suzanne was soon whirling about them. She clasped Lady Ann’s hands. “How beautiful you look, Lady Ann. And you, Bella. Goodness, just look at those pearls. They’re exquisite. Where did you get them? Oh, don’t tell me. Your handsome husband gave them to you, didn’t he?” Arabella actually blushed. It was amazing, Lady Ann thought, staring at her. “I have never seen them before and they look to be quite old,” she said slowly.

“Justin said that my father gave them to him to give to me after we were married. He did, this evening.”

“Oh, my love,” Lady Ann, “you are my precious and Justin’s as well. Isn’t life grand?”

“I think so,” Arabella said slowly, for out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gervaise dancing with Elsbeth. She was not about to forget that she must keep him under view for the entire evening. Surely he would try something. She knew it as well as Justin did.

She also saw Suzanne curtsy to the earl, heard her laughing voice. “I vow a score of young ladies have been fluttering about the past hour or more waiting to meet you, my lord. You will not stick to Arabella’s side all evening, will you? No, of course you won’t, a gentleman has to flaunt himself, show the world that he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

“I am yours to command,” the earl said. Arabella watched him, her expression filled with hunger, had she but known it, when he asked a young lady to dance with him.

Arabella turned to find Gervaise at her elbow. “Monsieur,” she managed in a creditably calm voice, “Will you not join us? There are many people you must meet.” Yes, you bastard, let’s just see what you will do this evening.

There was an instant of hesitation in his dark eyes before he said easily, “But of course, Arabella, I am your servant, as always.” Arabella introduced him to Miss Fleming and watched the two of them take their places in a country dance.

“Mama,” Arabella whispered, “look over by the fireplace. Poor Dr.

Branyon, held captive in conversation by the gouty Lord Talgarth. He looks desperate, Mama. His eyes are glazing. I believe you’d best go rescue him before he takes a fireplace poker to his host.”

“By all that’s wonderful, but you are a marvelous daughter.” Lady Ann kissed her daughter’s cheek and was off, her step as light and happy as a young girl’s.

Arabella next introduced Gervaise to the quiet Miss Dauntry, the fourth daughter of a fondly doting mother. As he turned to lead the young lady to the dance floor, Arabella saw Lord Graybourn sweep by with Elsbeth on his arm. He was, surprisingly, a very graceful dancer. Elsbeth was laughing up at his face. This certainly looked promising.

Suzanne whirled by with Oliver Rollins firmly in tow. He was a chubby, well-meaning young man, whom Arabella had bullied mercilessly from their childhood. Suzanne called out to her, all gaiety, “Do not fret, Bella, I shall send one of my gallants to dance with you. But you must give up the earl, for we have an overabundance of young ladies tonight.” Oliver Rollins managed a stuttering hello before being borne away.

Arabella turned at a tap of a fan on her arm. Lady Crewe, a formidable dowager of indeterminate years and bright red hair that was still untouched by gray, stood at her side, two great purple ostrich plumes swinging about her angular face. “You are looking fit, Arabella. I see that marriage agrees with you. It’s rare, you know, fine marriages, that is. Except when it involves money, of course. But you two young people—both of you looking as besotted as my peacock Larry and his peahen Blanche. A fine choice your papa made, and I would tell him so if he were here.

“Damn, I wish he weren’t dead. I’m sorry to remind you, my dear, but I know you loved him very much.” She patted Arabella’s hand even as her brilliant hazel eyes swept across the room to rest a moment on the earl, creditably performing his part in the country dance with the very buxom Miss Eliza Eldridge. “Yes,” Lady Crewe said more to herself than to Arabella, “the new earl is a fine figure of a man. How very like your papa he appears. And you as well. You look so alike, the two of you. You will have handsome children. Your father would have been mightily pleased.”

“I hope,” Arabella said, looking at her husband, “that we will have a score of children. And yes, they will be handsome, you are right about that. I just hope they all have clefts in their chins, like my father and Justin. My father made an excellent choice.” Lady Crewe paused a moment and turned a large ruby ring about her thin finger. “Perhaps your mama will be surprised, Arabella, but I do not fault her for marrying Dr. Paul Branyon, as does poor Aurelia Talgarth.

Silly woman! All her nonsense about his not being a lord, not being of our class, why, it is really too absurd.” Her eyes were shrewd. “You are open, Arabella. I like that. Your father never really was, but that’s neither here nor there. I can see that you, my dear Arabella, have given your approval to your mama’s marriage to Dr. Branyon. It’s wise of you.

It shows a maturity that is refreshing as it is pleasing.”

“My mother is very beautiful and too young to spend her life alone. Also, I am very fond of Dr. Branyon. I have known him all my life. There is no kinder man. I’m pleased he will be my step-papa.” Lady Crewe was still looking toward Lady Ann. She said slowly, her voice meditative, “I will tell you, my dear, that for the first time in nearly twenty years I have found something admirable about your mother besides her immense sweetness and good looks. At last she has shown character and spirit that match her beauty. I do believe it came quite easily to her, proving it was there all the time.” She added very quietly, “Your father was a very strong man, a very dominant man who wouldn’t accept a female ever questioning him. Yes, your mother has come into her own now.” Arabella, who was still trying to keep the comte in view, was a bit distracted. “Yes, ma’am,” she said briefly.