Married to the Viscount (43 page)

“What a considerate wife you are,” Clara said smoothly. “I take it you survived Spencer’s temper last Saturday night?”

The night when he’d made love to her so sweetly, then told her he didn’t believe her capable of fidelity, loyalty, or honor? “Yes,” she said noncommittally. She’d survived—if you could call this state of numb despair survival.

“Are you all right, Abby? You’ve scarcely spoken two words since Morgan and I picked you up.”

“I’m fine, really I am,” Abby said. The blatant lie was all she could manage tonight. Eventually she’d have to tell Clara what had happened, but not until she had decided how much to reveal.

“Well, well,” Clara said, fixing her eyes suddenly on the entrance. “The prodigal comes home.”

Abby’s cursed heart leaped as she turned to look. But it was only Nathaniel, who spoke to Captain Blakely just inside the doors to the ballroom. And without Spencer.

“Excuse me,” Abby muttered as she hurried off toward them.

Captain Blakely looked up just as she approached and with a frown leaned toward Nathaniel as if to say something.
But before he got a word out, Abby heard Nathaniel say, “He won’t be long at Genevieve’s, I’m sure, and then—”

“Shut up, you fool,” Captain Blakely growled as Abby halted, her heart sinking.

When Nathaniel turned to see her there, his face turned the color of chalk.

“He…he went to his mistress?” she whispered. Good heavens, he couldn’t even wait until she was out of London before he took up with the woman again?

“No!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “It wasn’t like that, Abby. He wanted to find out if she—” He glanced at Captain Blakely, then came up to Abby and pulled her out of earshot. “He went to find out if she ever used any sort of measures to prevent children. You know, in case he isn’t as…damaged as he at first believed.”

She stared at him, not sure what to think. Spencer was trying to find out if he could have children? Was this one more way to keep her here? Did he intend to promise he could sire a child whether he could or not?

When she scowled, Nathaniel went on hastily, “He went at my insistence. I told him he should be sure he was sterile before he visited the foundling hospital to discuss—”

“The foundling hospital?” A tiny hope sprouted in her chest. “He’s planning to go to the foundling hospital?”

“Not planning to go.” Relief filled Nathaniel’s face. “He’s there now. That’s where he was going after he left Genevieve’s.”

Her hope burst into flower. If Spencer was willing to take in foundlings, that meant—

“He does love you, you know,” Nathaniel said. “Don’t let my blundering ruin everything.”

Ruin everything? She was beside herself with joy. Spencer must really love her if he was considering possibilities, looking into the future,
their
future.

Ready to explode with happiness, she was about to reassure Nathaniel that his
blundering
hadn’t ruined anything when she checked herself.

This wasn’t the first time Nathaniel Law had blundered in his brother’s life. Though his slip of the tongue had proved harmless enough, his earlier actions had nearly wrecked several lives. And all because he blithely thought to do his brother a “favor.”

It was time the younger Mr. Law learned to stay out of his brother’s affairs. And hers. Smoothing her features into a cold mask, she said, “He went to his mistress, Nathaniel. Surely you can’t expect me to forgive that.”

Panic spread over the young man’s features. “But not for…It wasn’t like that. And he was going to the foundling hospital straightaway after—”

“A likely story.”

“It’s the truth!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what he told you, but thanks to you I’ve learned the hard way that men like Spencer meet their needs wherever they must. I was handy enough, but now that I’m leaving, he’s gone off to his old mistress.”

“No!” Nathaniel looked positively sick. “You must believe me—he wants you to stay! He loves you, he—”

“I’m not stupid enough to believe your lies twice. I’m leaving tomorrow, and there’s naught you can say to stop me.”

“Oh, God, you can’t do that,” Nathaniel began.

“Enough.” Time to send him off, before he caught on that she was tormenting him on purpose. She wasn’t about to relieve him of his agitation too easily. Let him stew over his mistakes for a while. “Isn’t that your fiancée I see over there with a young gentleman? I suggest you take care of your own affairs and stop worrying about mine.”

Nathaniel glanced over to where Evelina was fortuitously skirting the circle of dancers that surrounded the massive maypole erected in the middle of the spacious ballroom. A
handsome fellow had given her his arm, and they seemed to be conversing quite pleasantly. Nathaniel scowled.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he grumbled. “I’m coming back in a moment to continue this discussion.” Then he headed for his fiancée.

Abby smothered a laugh. Not if she could help it. She fully intended to rub young Nathaniel’s nose in his perfidy for as long as Spencer went along with it. But that might be difficult—right now she was so happy she couldn’t pretend to be mad at him for long.

Spencer had gone to the foundling hospital! Even though his political future was at stake if he didn’t show up here, he’d gone to the foundling hospital for her. The realization of what that meant made her giddy.

“Lady Ravenswood,” a tart voice said behind her.

She whirled to find Lady Brumley standing near her with a portly gentleman and three finely dressed ladies. One look at the man’s elegant and costly attire was enough to bring Abby to instant panic. Good heaven, he could only be—

“His Majesty has expressed a desire to be introduced to you, my dear,” Lady Brumley said, eyes twinkling. She performed the introductions swiftly. Abby dropped into a curtsy that she hoped was the right one.

When she straightened, His Majesty took her hand and kissed it with regal chivalry. “We would have left it to your husband to perform the office, but he doesn’t seem to be here.”

“N-no, Your Majesty.” Frantically Abby tried to remember everything Clara had taught her about addressing the king. “He…er…was delayed by a very urgent personal matter. But he’ll be here shortly, I assure you.”

“Oh, I hope not,” His Majesty said dryly. “I’m looking forward to having you all to myself for a while.”

Heavenly day, what was she to say to that?

Apparently nothing, for he went on without waiting for
her answer. “I understand from her ladyship that you have a gift for me.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Abby fumbled hastily in her reticule for the bottle of Heaven’s Scent that Spencer had instructed her to bring. She held it out to the king, then hoped she hadn’t erred. Was there some protocol for offering gifts to royalty? Had she just shown her ignorance again?

Hard to tell from the smile he gave her as he took it. He removed the stopper, sniffed, and then lifted on eyebrow. “What a delightful scent,” he commented. “Though it’s hard to judge scent in the bottle. If I could just smell it on the wrist—”

He hadn’t even finished before four ladies had removed their gloves and thrust their bare arms in front of him, including Lady Brumley. Belatedly, Abby realized she should have done the same. Would it look stupid if she did it now?

With a laugh, he gestured to the other ladies to lower their arms. Then he held out his hand to Abby and said, “If you would be so kind as to remove your glove—”

“Oh, of course,” she said quickly and did as he bade.

“I assume you are wearing the scent already.” Taking her hand, he lifted her wrist to his nose and sniffed. “Exquisite,” he added as he lingered over her hand.

This began to feel decidedly improper. King or no, he shouldn’t be so forward.

Gently, Abby tugged her hand free. “It will please my husband to hear that Your Majesty enjoys my paltry gift.”

His eyes showed amusement at her mention of Spencer. “And you, my lady? Does it please you?”

She managed a smile. “Of course.”

“Then perhaps you’d honor me with a waltz.”

He motioned to the orchestra, who abruptly stopped playing a quadrille and launched immediately into waltz music, which caused some momentary confusion on the dance floor.

The king didn’t seem to care. He held out his arm. “Come, my dear, let us dance.”

“Certainly.” She laid her hand on his arm and let him lead her to the floor.

Wonderful. Just great. Nothing like going right to the top of society for a partner the first time one tested one’s waltzing skills on the dance floor. Perhaps she should step on his feet now and be done with it. Thank God Spencer had been detained. At least he wouldn’t have to watch her single-handedly destroy his political career.

Then she heard Spencer’s voice in her head.
He’s only a man after all, Abby, and no one to be afraid of
.

She stared at the king, with his elegantly embroidered waistcoat and overly pampered skin. And that’s when she saw it. A flea, crawling slowly along the edge of the king’s perfectly starched collar, seeking a bit of the royal blood for its supper.

It took all her control not to laugh. The king might be powerful, he might smell of the richest almond milk and the most expensive snuff, but even he could not escape the natural order of things. Spencer was right. There was indeed nothing to be afraid of.

So when the music began, she smiled at the king, lifted her heels, and danced.

The lights were ablaze at Throckmortons’ when Spencer arrived, and a line of carriages still waited to get near the house. Too impatient to wait, he leaped from the hackney and walked the last few yards to the entrance. But he’d barely reached the stairs before Nathaniel emerged from the shadows.

“Why the devil are you skulking about out here?” Spencer asked. “I thought you were taking Evelina off to Gretna Green?”

“I am. She’s waiting in a hackney down the street. But before we left I had to talk to you.” Nat frowned. “You’re here rather quickly, aren’t you?”

Spencer broke into a broad grin. “You were right about Genevieve. She did use something; she just didn’t tell me. So I didn’t go on to the foundling hospital. I thought I’d talk to Abby first and see what she wanted to do.”

Nat’s low moan gave him pause.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to do it, Spence,” Nat said. “It was purely an accident that she came up when I was telling Blakely—Oh, God, oh, God, you’re going to kill me.”

“Indeed I will, if you don’t tell me what the devil you’re blathering about.”

Nat let out a sound of pure despair. “Abby overheard me telling Blakely that you’d gone to Genevieve’s and she thought—”

“You bloody, bloody ass!” Spencer’s heart nearly failed him right there. “Tell me you explained why I went there, or I swear I’ll thrash you in front of God and everyone!”

“I explained, I did!” Nat stepped back, eyes wide with alarm. “I told her why, I told her about the foundling hospital, I told her you loved her—”

“Wait a minute.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You told her about the foundling hospital? How did she react?”

“At first it seemed to please her. But then she got all cool and awful and went on and on about how she couldn’t ever believe me again after all my lies and—”

“Tell me exactly what she said, Nat,” Spencer put in, a cautious relief budding in his chest. “Word for word.”

Nat related the entire conversation, each word lessening Spencer’s panic a little more. But when Nat got to the part about Abby’s leaving tomorrow, Spencer knew for sure what was going on.

Abby had already promised not to leave until after the par
liamentary sessions were over. Besides, she wasn’t stupid enough to run off without securing her financial future. And he couldn’t believe she would ignore the significance of his going to a foundling hospital.

But she might want Nat to think she would. It was just the sort of thing she’d do.

He could barely suppress his smile. His minx of a wife had found the perfect way to get her revenge on Nat for all his manipulations. And since Abby seemed to engage in mischief only when she was happy, dare he hope that her actions signaled her return to Spencer’s affections?

Whether they did or not, Spencer wasn’t about to deprive her of her just revenge. Besides, he had let Nat off a little too easily. So he released an exaggerated moan for his brother’s benefit.

Nat instantly reacted. “I’m so sorry, Spence. I tried to talk to her again, but she was dancing. Then I thought it might be better if I warned you before you got in there.”

“Your warning is too late.” Spencer injected his voice with as much despair as he could muster. “She’ll leave me now for sure, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“That’s not true,” Nat protested. “You have to talk to her and explain.”

“There’s no point to it after she’s made up her mind. She won’t believe me.”

“If you don’t talk to her, I will,” Nat said fiercely, turning toward the entrance.

“No!” Spencer cried. When Nat halted to gape at him, he added quickly, “Haven’t you done enough? Anything you say will only make it worse.”

“Damn, that’s probably true.” Nat sighed heavily.

Spencer shot his brother a long-suffering look. “You and Evelina just go on to Gretna Green. I’ll feel better knowing at least one of us is happy.” He looked back and spotted his equipage parked down the road. “No need to use a hired
coach. Take my carriage. Abby came with Blakely and Clara, so they can take me home. If Abby will even let me within her sight, that is.”

He almost regretted that last bit when Nat groaned and looked utterly miserable.

But in for a penny, in for a pound. “Go on then, and hurry. Lady Tyndale will start looking for Evelina any minute, and then you’ll never escape.” He fixed his brother with a stern look. “You’ve got other more important obligations now, you know.”

With a nod, Nat drew himself up like the responsible young man he seemed to be becoming. Then he headed off down the road.

Once he’d disposed of Nat, Spencer could hardly keep from taking the entrance steps two at a time. His wife was dancing, was she? Well, not for long. He intended to whisk her off into a private spot where he could lay his heart at her feet.