Page 8 of Escape of the Bridegroom (Escape #2)

H elena Archer sat in the window seat of the garden room, watching a sudden shower of rain splash down the glass and obliterate the pleasant gardens from view. After several days of fine weather, it seemed the skies were not prepared to cooperate with Lady Grandison’s plans to allow the ball to spill outdoors.

Tea had been served in the garden salon before most people had drifted off again, leaving only Helena and Mrs. Alicia Eldridge in the room. Helena did not really have friends—she had people who amused her or who were useful to her—but there was a kind of shallow understanding between the two women. Once or twice, for their own entertainment, they had even competed for the same lover and wagered on the outcome.

Alicia had won the last wager, for Lord Sanderly, some months ago, much to Helena’s irritation for she had had to hand over her favourite bracelet. There was, besides, something about the man’s ruthless remoteness from his fellow human beings that intrigued her. She grumbled that it was easier for Alicia, being widowed, than for Helena who had to practise at least some discretion in the vicinity of her husband.

Annoyingly, Alicia had been inclined to gloat, hinting at the unique pleasures to be found in her new lover, however much of a pariah he was to Society. However, the liaison had clearly not lasted. Sanderly had not gone near her for months. She had harboured brief hopes of reviving the affair at Grand Court after his unexpected arrival, and at first he had seemed inclined to flirt—or at least what passed for flirting in Sanderly. Only he’d then changed his mind to pursue Lady Grandison’s goddaughter instead.

“I wish him joy of his ingenue,” Alicia said abruptly from the next window seat.

Helena cast her a cynical smile. “Wait until he’s married her, my dear. I’m sure boredom if nothing else will send him scurrying back to your charms. What can she offer him, after all?”

Alicia did not appear to like that idea. “Is that your best hope for Wolf?” she snapped.

“The situations are quite different,” Helena retorted. “Wolf married for money. Any fool could see he was appalled that she followed him here. Why else would he have told no one of her existence? There was not even an announcement in the newspapers.”

“Then you think he is bored already?” Alicia asked, apparently amused. “She might be too quiet and a shade awkward, but she is rather beautiful, in an uncommon kind of a way.”

“In a virginal kind of a way,” Helena corrected with a curl of her lips. “If he has bedded her, I’ll eat my new hat. She has merely spoiled his sport.” And mine .

“For a short time only, I’m sure,” Alicia said with more sympathy.

Helena was not so sure. Cutting the under-bred girl who had dared to buy Wolf had seemed so amusing and satisfying last night, even though he had rescued his wife at the last possible second. She was surprised at the time that he had troubled to intervene, for her ladyship’s absence from Society could only benefit him. But Helena was forced to acknowledge her mistake. She had played a bad hand and forced him to choose.

And being honourable, damn him, he had chosen his wife.

Rather than seeing the funny side, he had turned against Helena and she knew in her heart she would never get him back. That hurt.

“Did you love him then?” Alicia asked.

“I am not so foolish. Or ridiculous.” Wasn’t she? It had begun as mere sport but there was something about Wolf’s whole-hearted focus on her pleasure, combined with his careless, good-natured charm, that was utterly disarming, utterly...

“Addictive,” Alicia said ruefully. “Like Sanderly, in his own way. What we need to lift our spirits, my dear, is a spot of revenge. Then we shall both move on to another, more difficult wager. What about the Duke of Death?”

Helena raised her brows. “You mean he’s still alive? I’ve never set eyes on the man.”

“You probably have, you just didn’t realize it. But yes, we shall have to hurry before the poor boy turns up his toes.”

“Right now, I’m more interested in the revenge. What had you in mind? Something petty and truly hurtful, I hope?”

“So do I,” Alicia said dreamily. “Though it should not rule out future possibilities for our misguided lovers. It is, in fact, quite amusing and terribly, terribly simple...”

***

A IDAN HAD WALKED INTO the village at a brisk pace, which was thirsty work under the warm sunshine. Having dropped his letters into the Royal Mail sack at the inn, he sat down in the tap room with a pint of ale. And then, since he would miss luncheon at Grand Court, he ordered a quick meal.

He was not particularly looking forward to the evening’s ball. Responsibilities to his wife loomed too large. He did not put it past Helena to spread some poison that would isolate Eve, depriving her of dance partners and companionship, so he would have to look after her and, if necessary, kick some of his friends into doing the pretty.

No, he had little anticipation of enjoyment. He was actually looking forward to leaving and going home where he would no longer need to worry about his wife. Which was stupid, really. He had come here to escape her and everything associated with her. Now he was escaping from here and the chaos she had brought with her.

Not that he was blameless. He had behaved ill and made a bad situation worse. Time to go home and reach some kind of equilibrium that they could both live with. He could set in motion the repairs around the estate that he had earmarked Romilly’s extra two thousand for and decide how best to spend the rest of it.

The question of his wife’s maintenance bothered him. It was something he had never discussed with Romilly, for he had been far too angry at the time, but it had certainly exploded into his head when he saw her expensive gowns lying in pieces all over her bed. Such wanton destruction had incensed him as well as scared him, but of course he had been wrong about that too.

Dress and strict propriety meant little to him, but she had forced him to acknowledge that unsuitable dress would make her a laughing-stock at least to some degree. Though God knew what sort of ludicrous patchwork garment she was going to come up with. Perhaps he had been wrong to force her to stay.

Oh well...

He should clear the air with her, too. Somehow, he did not want her to be in continued receipt of an allowance from her father—it was a husband’s business to maintain his wife and family. And yet Aidan could not keep her in decent clothing. Not after he had paid for Patrick’s, shelled out to the rest of the family pensioners, and paid his annual dues to Romilly.

Well, Patrick would have to tighten his damned belt. It was his extravagance that had caused this mess, and it was time he did more for the family fortunes than merely rusticate for a few months of the year.

Draining the last of his ale, he rose and paid his shot and walked out. The sky had clouded over a bit, an ill omen for Lady Grandison’s ball.

An ill-dressed, vaguely familiar young man limped toward him. Aidan, with too much on his mind to be bothered to think how he knew the fellow, merely nodded curtly and received the same gesture in return.

He arrived back at Grand Court just before the heavens opened and in perfect time for tea. At some point before the party broke up, he realized his wife was not present. He hoped she was not going to be a clingy creature, refusing to go anywhere without him...

Damn it, she had come here without him and had planned to go to London by herself afterward. She was a capable, independent woman, and he would have to get out of the habit of looking for the worst in her. Why did he do that?

Excusing himself to his companions, he repaired to his bedchamber. Where his mouth fell open in shock.

Eve stood before the glass, an expression of doubt on her really rather lovely face. Her hair had come half-loose from its pins and tumbled about her face and shoulders on one side. A beam of late afternoon sun shone through the window, making her hair gleam and the skin of her neck and breast glow. The unusual, old-gold shade of the evening gown he had once thought dull, contrasted with an ivory gauze over-dress that hung in glittering folds from her shoulders to calves, open at the front to reveal the high-waisted, low-necked lace bodice.

She looked ethereal and lovely, like some fairytale princess.

Apart from the way she bit her lip, and the half-frightened, half-despairing look she cast at him.

“I think I spoiled those dresses for nothing. Perhaps Miss Cole could lend me something...”

“Miss Cole is several inches shorter than you,” Aidan said, still staring. “Did you achieve all of that yourself?”

“I was always a decent needlewoman, but Papa would not let me make my own gowns, even for every day.”

“No reason why you should work your fingers to the bone, but I have to say the effect is stunning. What is it that is glittering? Are those diamonds ?” He strode up to her to find out. “Where on earth did they come from?”

She blushed. “They’re hair pins I was going to give to my sister.”

He blinked. “ Hair pins ? Won’t they scratch you to ribbons and make you bleed?”

“No, I blunted them and wound thread around them when I sewed them from the gauze to the main gown. Do I look too ridiculous?”

He licked his dry lips. “No. No, you look lovely. Unique and perfect.”

She peered at him as though looking for the mockery.

Impatiently, he took her by the shoulders and turned her back toward the glass. “Look. The dress is a work of art, but that is not your beauty.”

She laughed. “ I have none of that. Though I thank you for the flatt—”

“Who says so?” he interrupted.

“I am not blind,” she said tartly.

“Yes, you are,” he muttered, for he had begun to suspect he was too. He had not wanted anything about her to be good or pleasant in any way because he’d needed every grievance to keep his anger alive. He met her gaze in the glass. “I’m sorry. I have behaved ill since we met. I don’t find it easy to be a supplicant. I know our marriage has destroyed the lives we each hoped for, yours far more than mine, and yet you are the innocent party.”

Her gaze dropped as though she were embarrassed, and she made to turn away from him. But he tightened his fingers on her tense, delicate shoulders, keeping her in place and her eyes flew back to his.

“Our lives need not be ruined,” he said. “We did not choose each other but we can deal better together. We can be better friends, if nothing else.”

A frown flickered across her brow. She swallowed. “I would like us to be friends. I would like us to be comfortable.”

“Then we have an agreement of our own.” He dropped his arms to his sides, and she seemed to breathe again. “In the absence of a lady’s maid, may I help you out of this delightful garment before dinner?”

Her eyes widened. “If you would not mind just unfastening the first three hooks, I can manage.”

“How on earth did you fasten them in the first place?” he asked, obeying her. She had a rather beautiful nape, long and slender.

“With some ungainly contortions, but I’m not sure the gown will stand much more of that.”

Amused, he reached down to gather the fine layers of the gown in his hands, and she whisked herself away like a startled kitten. From instinct, he flirted and teased.

“Don’t be shy, wife of my bosom. Recall that you slept beside my naked body for most of the night.”

Her face flamed. Even her shoulders and breast seemed to turn pink. “N-naked?” she stammered.

“I had no nightshirt, and I am too long to stretch out on so short a sofa. Now stop being missish and let me help.”

This time, she stayed still while he carefully drew the gown up and over her head, leaving her touchingly vulnerable in her chemise. From sheer embarrassment no doubt, she breathed too rapidly, and while he obligingly hung up her ballgown, she hastily flung on her own morning gown.

“Allow me,” he said politely. “Longing as I am to witness said contortions, I am at heart a gentleman.” Her doubtful gaze met his in the glass once more and he grinned at her and rather valued the way her face relaxed into a shy smile as she realized they were sharing a joke.

***

L ORD WOLF’S SMILE WAS a stunning revelation. He had never smiled at her like that before, as if he had meant it. The corners of his eyes crinkled, while his eyes themselves seemed to dance. His sensual mouth curved upward and his whole face lit up. He was dazzling.

And she, his plain, unloved wife, was lost.

To cover her confusion, as soon as he had fastened the gown for her, she hastily gathered up her hair and repaired the half-fallen knot behind her head.

“I thought for the ball, I could weave the pearl necklace through it,” she said nervously. Why did I speak? He cannot possibly be interested in such trivia.

“Good idea,” he said, removing his coat and cravat. “I’ll help.”

Eve did not immediately respond, for he had just tugged his shirt up over his head and her breath vanished altogether. Dear God, he was beautiful, all muscle and sinew rippling beneath his golden skin. Her mouth went dry. She longed to touch him.

Shocked, she spun away, hopefully before he saw her staring like a starving woman at a beef steak. What was the matter with her?

Is this love, then? Not the gentle friendship and understanding of shared values that I felt for Mr. Neville, but this wild, physical longing for... For what?

Idiot. A moment of madness is not love.

Thank God. For what could be worse than loving the husband who had to steel himself to be kind to his despised wife?

Why could she not feel the same gentle friendship with him ? Every feeling seemed too intense, too raw, too...

“Have you seen much of the house yet?” he asked. “Grandison has a rather fine library if you are interested in books?”

“I am,” she said, grasping this neutral topic like a lifeline. “I should like to see it.”

The time until dinner passed very pleasantly, at first alone with her husband in the library, discovering fascinating books and reading little snatches from them. She had the impression she had surprised Lord Wolf by the breadth and depth of her interests, but then he rather surprised her by his knowledge too. He was, it seemed, rather more than the careless if charming hedonist she had imagined him.

She thought back to her solitary days at Wolverton Hall and realized that none of the tenants had spoken of their landlord with anything but liking and respect.

A little later, they were joined by Sir Ralph Lawrence, a local member of parliament, and by an older gentleman called Mr. Thornton who reminded her a little of Mr. Neville. They proved agreeable company. To her surprise, both of them asked her to save dances for them, and although she knew they asked through respect for Lord Wolf, she appreciated the gesture and was glad she would not have the embarrassment of sitting out every dance. She was too used to playing the wallflower to Miranda’s beauty to hope for miracles, but the truth was, she loved dancing.

They all went through to a light buffet dinner together, and Eve’s stomach rumbled embarrassingly. Fortunately, she only happened to be with Lord Wolf at the time, and his eyes gleamed with laughter.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve just realized this is the first time I’ve eaten today! No wonder I’m hungry.”

He did not look quite so amused by this, but he gave no response, presumably realizing she had been busy with the ballgown all day.

Dinner was enlivened by the presence of guests from elsewhere in the county, some of whom were already in their ball finery. Eve was introduced to several of them, though she could not afterwards remember most of their names—which was unfortunate since she promised dances to at least two. But, encouragingly, she would not embarrass her husband by being too noted a wallflower, and she could certainly enjoy the dancing. Perhaps tonight would not be so bad after all.

The very thought must have tempted providence.