Page 5 of Escape of the Bridegroom (Escape #2)

“S tay?” Eve repeated , uncomprehending. Having achieved her goal—including the vengeance that had turned out not to be as satisfying as she had imagined—she wished only to be away from here. “Why on earth would I stay? Neither of us wants me here.”

His manner had changed again. From the barely suppressed anger with which he had greeted her, he had got distracted and agreed with more bewilderment than fuss to her request. And now the steely stranger was back.

“And yet here you are,” he said icily. “So once again, we must make the best of it.”

“The best,” she said, “is for me to step back into the chaise—with your letter—spend tonight at the inn, and travel to London tomorrow. You will be discommoded no further.”

“I cannot make up my mind,” Lord Wolf said, looking her up and down, “whether you are na?ve or malicious. I have no intention of dealing with the explosion of scandal and gossip that would arise from your departure a mere hour after your unlooked for arrival. It is awkward enough that you chose to appear before my marriage was made public. Now that you are here, you will play the devoted wife until we leave together.”

“I am not an actress,” she said acidly. “And your wishes would challenge even a Mrs. Siddons.”

“We are speaking of the ton, my dear wife, not cuddling peasants in some lovers’ lane. Your being present is devotion enough. Sharing my room displays the discreet lust of the newlywed. Beyond that, you need not speak to me nor pay me any attention whatsoever.”

There was so much offence in that speech that she didn’t know where to begin. What came blurting out was, “I shall not share your room!”

He smiled unpleasantly. “And yet here you are. Are you really going to put Lady Grandison to the trouble of conjuring you up another in her already full house? Who would you like to turn out to accommodate you?”

“No one! I shall stay at the inn.”

“I cannot allow you to so insult Lady Grandison.”

“You mean you cannot allow the insult to you ,” she retorted. “You are merely afraid my departure will be even more embarrassing than my arrival.”

“Did I not just say that?”

She curled her lip. “You are afraid of their contempt. You are afraid to appear in an even poorer light than you already have! So afraid that you are even prepared to put your vulgar wife, the mere cit’s daughter, on display.”

She thought his face paled, though his smile was savage enough.

“It is something of a Hobson’s choice. Calm your revulsion with the thought of your father’s approval. I am doing my best—again—to promote you in society.”

“You are doing your best to punish me,” she said hoarsely, “for your own and your brother’s faults. I despise you.”

“Then we are in perfect accord.” A knock sounded on the door and he strode across the room to open it. “And on cue, here is your baggage. Dear me, is this all?”

And suddenly, with her bag on his bed and the departure of the maid, her temper died, and the hot blood drained from her face.

“You see?” she said. “I would only embarrass you further if I stayed. I did not pack for such a purpose. For your comfort, if not for that of the orphans, just give me the letter you promised and let me go.”

“Touching,” he said with another curl of his lip. “Unpack your bag. Unless you desire me to do so.”

She hesitated, and not just because everything in her revolted at obeying such a peremptory order. But he was bound to despise her clothes anyway.

Despise . She wished she had not used that word to him. She wished she had not come, for all she had achieved was making a terrible situation worse.

With clumsy hands, she opened the bag and took out her neatly folded gowns which she laid on the bed in a pile.

“Well,” he said, without touching them. “That looks like an evening gown. You had best change.”

Her gaze flew to his face. God knew what he read in her eyes for he swung away from her saying harshly, “It’s why you married me, to go into society. Don’t make a fuss. You have ten minutes while I speak to a friend.”

And he walked out without a backward glance.

***

I T WAS THE FEAR IN her eyes that drove him from his room.

Dear God, what was he becoming?

“I despise you,” she had said. And no wonder. He despised himself. Whatever he had promised her, he was not making the best of their difficult situation. He was allowing his temper to make it worse. He was bullying that girl who was entirely alone in a houseful of strangers to whom she considered herself inferior.

Just because he had wanted a couple more weeks of being unencumbered.

Almost at random, he thumped his knuckles against a door in the passage and walked in.

“Good God,” Lord Sanderly drawled, “It’s the secret bridegroom. Seeking refuge already?”

Snake Sanderly had a tongue like a blade. He was tucking a fine lawn shirt into his close-fitting black pantaloons, his expression one of mere amusement. He was not known as a sympathetic man. Aidan had no idea why he was here except he’d known Snake a long time and never paid much attention to the unlikely calumnies pronounced against him by society.

“I’m a selfish bastard,” Aidan said, throwing himself into the nearest chair.

“What do you want? Absolution? I’m not the priestly sort.”

“I think I want a kick in the breeches.”

“Happy to oblige there.” Snake picked up a well starched cravat, wound it around his neck and with a flick of his long fingers seemed to conjure a veritable cascade of folds before accurately placing a plain gold pin to hold the beauty in place.

“You’ll be kind to her?” Aidan said abruptly. “Ask Miss Cole to look after her?”

Sanderly, to everyone’s surprise—including his own, Aidan suspected—appeared to be engaged to Miss Harriet Cole, the kind-hearted and rather lovely goddaughter of their hostess.

“To save you the trouble?” Snake asked.

“My kindness will hardly be welcome,” Aidan said ruefully. “In any case, I’m bound to be seated nowhere near her. Lady Grandison will oblige you if you ask.”

“Some terribly kind person is still bound to tell her about Mrs. Archer.”

And that was a complication Aidan had not even thought of. Mrs. Archer, his occasional mistress, had been no more than a pleasant flirtation so far at Grand Court, but he had been regarding her more intimate favours as a treat to look forward to before the end of the party. He rather suspected Mrs. Archer was doing the same.

Aidan swore. “I can’t even ask you to take her off my hands.”

“Even were I remotely inclined, I would not oblige you there. I suppose you married the girl for her money. Patrick being horribly dipped.”

Aidan’s face heated. “I don’t want that said either, though I suppose the world will know it.”

“One can’t control gossip,” Sanderly said, reaching for his coat. “All you can do is rise above it.”

No one knew that better than Snake.

“She came to me about a matter she considered urgent,” Aidan said. “And now she wants to stay at the inn. She has no escort.”

Snake’s thin lips twitched. “Astonishing how proper you married men suddenly become. Do you want rid of her?”

Yes. But more than that... “I want her to be safe,” he muttered. “Including from malicious tongues.”

“Then you rather went the wrong way about it. You’ve been here a week and never said a word about her. Society will just love the story of how she just appeared at Lady Grandison’s party. Trust me it will be most of the way round the country by tomorrow.”

“Then I’m right to keep her here,” Aidan said, frowning. “And after tomorrow’s ball, we can leave together in perfect harmony.” At least publicly. He stood up. “Thanks, Snake.”

Snake said nothing, but Aidan suspected as he went out, that the man was vastly amused.

Allowing his wife rather more courtesy than he had given Sanderly, Aidan knocked at his own door and waited until her voice bade him enter before he went in.

She stood before the looking glass in her modest evening gown, jabbing pins into her hair which she had scraped back with ruthless severity.

“Oh the devil,” he said, irritably, striding up behind her. Alarm entered her eyes in the glass, and then outrage as he swept both hands through her hair sending pins flying in all directions. “Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Convenience,” she retorted. “I would rather be neat than ridiculous.”

Aidan did not answer, for he was suddenly distracted by the thick softness of her hair. He barely remembered how it had looked at their few previous meetings because he had hardly glanced at her. Concerned with his own dignity in an intolerable situation, he had not considered her at all.

“I regret my ill-manners and my hasty words,” he said in a rush. “I have an abominable temper, for which I apologize.”

Surprise widened her profound dark eyes.

Without conscious thought, he picked up her hairbrush and stroked it through her silken hair. “It really will be better for everyone concerned if you stay here tonight and tomorrow night. Your existence and your appearance will thus cause considerably less gossip than if you bolt again as if I have thrown you out.”

He caught her sardonic expression. “Yes, it would look bad of me,” he admitted. “But it is you who will ultimately be blamed. The woman always is. It isn’t fair but it is reality. For both our sakes, endure this evening and tomorrow and we can leave together the day after the ball.”

“ Ball? ” she said, fresh alarm spiking in her eyes. “I have nothing suitable to wear for a ball!”

“We will manage,” he said firmly. In truth, his attention was not on such details but in coaxing her hair into the shape that suited her features and her nature.

“But I wanted to begin the renovation of the house to receive the orphans...”

“Unless you plan to do your own labouring, you can surely leave that in the hands of others. Write to whoever you need to, to put him in touch with my man of business and we can send both epistles in the morning.”

She held herself rigid under his ministrations, but now whether through agreement with his plan for the orphans or admiration of her changing reflection in the glass, she began to relax.

“Jewels,” he said brusquely, when he had placed the last pin. He was oddly reluctant to stop touching her.

She spun away from him, muttering, “I only have pearls with me.”

“They’ll do.”

Having extracted them from the bag, she fastened them herself without even glancing again in the mirror.

“You should wear emeralds,” he said.

She cast him a quick, startled glance.

“Another time,” he said hastily. “You had best wait for me, so if you don’t wish your wifely modesty to be offended, avert your gaze.”

She fled to the window, where she stared resolutely outward while he discarded his day clothes, washed, and re-dressed.

His cravat lacked Sanderly’s elegance. But it would do.

They would both do.

***

E NTIRELY DISCONCERTED by her husband’s clever fingers in her hair, Eve could do little more than hold her neutral expression while her blood warmed and her scalp tingled to his touch. It entered her head that he was far too practiced at dressing and pinning a lady’s hair—an odd skill for a nobleman. When he brushed against her neck, her breath caught at the shock of it.

Gazing out of the window, while he splashed and rustled behind her, tension rose. She had to fight the urge to turn and watch him. This was all far too...intimate. It gave her butterflies in her stomach.

And yet she did not dislike it. She did not dislike him when he was being reasonable.

He had apologized. Should she not do the same?

He stood beside her, smelling clean and fresh, his arm winged. “Lady Wolf.”

“Lord Wolf,” she managed in the same, light tone, and laid her hand on his arm. She drew in a breath as they walked together. “I apologize for my own temper.” I don’t despise you at all . But before she could say the words, he spoke again.

“There is no need. My behaviour would enrage a saint. Let us talk no more of the matter and be more courteous in the future. Will you cope with a formal dinner?”

Was that his way of asking if she knew which cutlery to use, and when to leave the dining room? Her difficulties were not with manners but with people. But she would never admit that.

“I believe so,” she said calmly.

She had endured many of her father’s large, formal dinners and those of his friends. She assured herself this one was no harder and walked silently by his side down the staircase and into a large, crowded salon where a footman offered them sherry in fine glasses.

She was glad to take one. It gave her something to concentrate on while everyone turned and gawped at her. Unfortunately, she was cursed with sharp hearing and many among the Quality had no concept of lowering their voices.

“She’s Wolf’s new baroness. Now why did he keep her so secret?”

“Do you suppose Helena Archer knows?”

“At least she looks like a lady. Does she smell of the shop?”

“No, but she probably sounds of it. No wonder she doesn’t open her mouth.”

Not the kind of comments guaranteed to boost one’s confidence. Fortunately, she had no interest in them, and Wolf drew her straight past them and further into the dazzling room. She had been among wealthy before. She had grown up with them, had friends among them. But these people seemed to radiate innate superiority, as if they didn’t even need to think about it. Or perhaps that was just her sudden timidity.

If she was to do her duty by her husband, and by her family, these were the people she would need to be familiar with. And yet there seemed nothing open about them at all.

Under everyone’s gaze, Lord Wolf halted beside two lovely young ladies, the most elegant man she had ever seen, and a stocky man with an amiable smile.

“Thought you’d like to meet my wife,” Wolf said casually. “Eve, Lady Barbara Martindale, Miss Cole who is Lady Grandison’s goddaughter, Lord Sanderly—Lady Bab’s brother—and Mr. Martindale.”

Mr. Martindale was the amiable man, presumably Lady Barbara’s husband. Lord Sanderly the elegant one with the haughty, rather terrifying expression and the most amazing blue eyes she had ever seen.

Lady Bab, at least, did not appear to be scary at all. If her open gaze was curious, her smile was friendly and she offered her hand at once.

“Lady Wolf, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What a brave lady you are to take on our untamed Wolf! I have to tell you, I was madly in love with him for the entire first month of my come-out.”

“Were you?” Wolf said in surprise. “Then you hid it very well!”

“I was probably too overwhelmed to speak to you.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of someone else?” Wolf said.

Lady Bab laughed. “Of course not! You do cut quite the dash, you know. Only then I met James and forgot all about you.”

Mr. Martindale looked more stoic than gratified by this accolade—and indeed Eve found it hard to believe that he could have eclipsed Lord Wolf in an impressionable maidenly breast. But then, physical appearance was not everything.

It was very odd, though, that even among these friendly strangers, surrounded by a multitude of others, she felt the urge to cling to her husband whom she scarcely knew any better. But in this company, he was all that was familiar.

Miss Cole invited her for a morning walk to see the countryside. “Though I warn you, my sisters and cousin might join us and that is not always peaceful.”

“I shall be happy to make their acquaintance.”

“Not at that time of the morning,” Lord Sanderly murmured. “One needs fortitude.”

“They’re children,” Wolf said, as though that explained everything.

“Of an extremely lively nature,” Miss Cole added. “Even Lily when she is well.”

During these exchanges, Eve happened to glance at Mr. Martindale and glimpsed over his shoulder, a beautiful, fair lady. She had been sweeping alone through the room but now paused beside another woman. Both gazed right at her.

The fair lady curled her lip, took her companion’s arm, and walked on. A taste, no doubt, of what Eve would have to endure for the rest of the evening, to say nothing of tomorrow night’s ball which was now the subject of discussion among her immediate companions.

“It’s to be quite a grand affair,” Miss Cole said to her, with a hint of surprising anxiety. “I believe most of the county has been invited.”

By which she no doubt meant all the gently born families. A strong pang of longing engulfed Eve, for Mr. Neville and an unassuming, busy life among the poor, the troubled, and the lonely, doing good and making a difference...

Her sad musings were interrupted by Lady Grandison, who bustled up to her. “Oh good, you’ve met Sanderly. I’ve given him this evening’s honour of taking you in to dine. Feel free to be as rude as you like to him!”

She passed on with a distracted smile, leaving Eve with her face burning. Did everyone expect her to have no manners? Just because of her parents’ lowly birth?

No one else seemed to find anything unusual in Lady Grandison’s advice, and in any case, there was a general movement of couples behind her ladyship and an elderly gentleman, presumably toward the dining room.

Lord Sanderly was offering her his arm. She knew an urge to flee, or to cling to Lord Wolf’s arm instead. One impulse was as ridiculous as the other.

She placed the tips of her fingers on Sanderly’s arm and walked rather blindly at his side.

“The barb was aimed at me, not you,” he murmured unexpectedly. “The world knows me as offensive, and rudeness in return is really the only answer.”

“She does not like you?” Eve asked, shocked.

“I see no reason why she should, but she is coming around since I intend to marry her goddaughter.”

Intrigued by this admittedly alarming man, Eve forgot to be afraid. And indeed, he proved to be an amusing companion, conversing humorously on light, impersonal subjects that put her at her ease.

“You and Lord Wolf are friends of long standing?” she asked over the soup course.

“We’ve known each other since school, though our lives went in different directions thereafter.”

“How so?”

He gave a little shrug. “Wolf inherited his title early. I made a career in the army. For a time.”

Although she baulked at first at the idea of him as a soldier, when she looked again at his hard, intelligent eyes and uncompromising chin, it began to make sense.

“When I came home, I tended my own acres, as Wolf tends to his.”

She must have betrayed her surprise for lazy amusement glinted in his eyes.

“You don’t imagine Wolf as a farmer?”

“I imagined him more as a...a man about town,” she said lightly, then wondered if she should really be admitting to knowing her husband so little.

“I believe he drops into Town for the Season and a couple of country parties a year. I met him at the races once. And the recent prize fight, of course, though I probably should not tell you that.”

Then everyone knew she had been deserted for a prize fight? It was a better reason than him being unable to stand the sight of his wife.

The servants removed the soup plates and some delicious-smelling fish, glistening in herb butter was placed in front of her.

The gentleman on her other side turned to her and introduced himself as Mr. Archer.

Was that not a name she had overheard among the gossips when she had first entered the salon?

“You, I know, are Lady Wolf,” he said. “Everyone is agog to meet you.”

“I’m sure his lordship planned it that way,” she said lightly.

Mr. Archer, a youngish, rather petulant-looking man with flaring nostrils, raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think so? How quaint you are.”

Her hackles rising, she looked him in the eye. “You do not approve of me, sir?”

“My dear lady! On the contrary, both your existence and your presence at Grand Court delight me.”

“I fail to see why,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips at this odd fervour. After all, though she would far rather be rude to this gentleman than to Lord Sanderly whom she rather liked, she had been brought up to be courteous.

“Bless your innocent heart.” Mr. Archer leaned closer and she smelled brandy as well as wine on his breath. He lowered his voice confidingly. “Because it removes the scandal from my house to yours, of course.”

What scandal ? Fortunately she did not ask aloud, and in any case, Archer’s attention was claimed by the lady on his other side.

She turned to Sanderly and found his watchful gaze fixed just beyond her, on Archer.

“Who is he?” she murmured. “Another friend of Lord Wolf’s?”

“No,” Sanderly said. His eyes dropped to hers. “He is something of a gossip. You would be wise to pay him little attention.”