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Chapter Twenty-Four

T he faint hum of voices coming from the entrance hall told Wyatt he had not been the most attentive of hosts. He had not hosted a ball before, but he was fairly certain that being in attendance when the first guests arrived was Rule Number One.

But at the sight of Gemma in her new gown, with that pale blue silk skimming over her every curve, had been completely unable to help himself.

He was not sure he had ever been so overcome by passion and need—but then again, he had never felt about anyone the way he felt about Gemma.

It was something Wyatt was only beginning to admit to—both to himself and his wife.

But something he knew needed to be said.

He had had no idea that Gemma saw his offer to send her to Devon as a means of sending her away. If only she knew how much the thought of her leaving had tortured him over the past weeks.

That is something you will have to tell her too.

Wyatt smiled to himself as he and Gemma descended the staircase, her hand looped through his arm. He knew the two of them had much to learn about being husband and wife. But they would have the rest of their lives to figure it out.

At the bottom of the staircase, his mother was welcoming guests with a smile on her face that looked far too broad. She shot Gemma and Wyatt a look as they made their way into the foyer. “About time,” she mouthed.

Wyatt turned away, ignoring her.

“Ah. Your Graces. I was wondering when you were going to show yourselves.” The voice made the muscles in Wyatt's shoulders tighten. Henrietta Henford's words were light and playful, but he could sense the venom beneath.

Henrietta was standing in the foyer with her parents and brother, a smile plastered to her face that looked as fake as his mother's.

Though she was dressed in a pale pink, flower-trimmed gown that ought to have been height of innocence, something about her made him distinctly uneasy.

For not the first time, Wyatt sent a silent thanks to the fates—and his grandmother—that he had escaped a life at Henrietta Henford's side.

As Wyatt and Gemma approached, Henrietta dropped into an over-the-top curtsey, then looked back up at them with fire in her eyes. Wyatt had the distinct impression that his mother had planted the Henfords at the bottom of the staircase so they would be the first guests he and Gemma encountered.

Wyatt nodded in greeting, doing his best to ignore her piercing glare. “Miss Henford.” He offered his hand to her brother and father, who both shook reluctantly. “Thank you all for coming.”

“Indeed,” Gemma spoke up. “I know the circumstances do not make for the most comfortable of evenings for you all. But I am very pleased you have come, so we might put the past behind us.”

Wyatt felt a sudden swell of affection for his wife. The anxiety and uncertainty he had seen from Gemma throughout the week was gone; in its place, a radiant confidence he was not sure he had ever seen from her before.

That's not true. I have seen that confidence. But in the past, it was used to put me in my place. He hid a private smile at the memory.

Henrietta tilted her head, taking Gemma in. Her gaze slid up and down his wife's body, as though scrutinizing her from head to toe. “Put the past behind us,” she repeated. “I see.”

Henrietta's father put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on now, my dear. We have discussed this. You agreed?—”

Henrietta shot her father a glare that silenced him.

Then she turned and pinned her fierce eyes back on Gemma.

Wyatt saw Gemma swallow, but she held Henrietta's gaze.

Surreptitiously, he covered her hand with his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He had not forgotten the threats Henrietta had made against the Volks on the day of the wedding. He was sure Gemma hadn't either.

“I am truly sorry things worked out for you the way they did,” Gemma told Henrietta. “I cannot change what has happened. But I do wish you every happiness.” She offered her a small smile. “Perhaps tonight you will even meet a gentleman who will make you happy into the future.”

With unnatural speed, Henrietta's glare gave way to a syrupy smile. “Yes,” she said. “Perhaps you are right.” Her eyes narrowed on Gemma. “Your Grace.”

At that, Henrietta's mother stepped forward, ushering her daughter toward the ballroom. “Thank you for the invitation, Your Graces,” she blustered. “I do hope you have a pleasant night.”

Gemma smiled crookedly as she watched them make their way toward the back of the house. She let out a long breath. “A pleasant night. Indeed.”

Wyatt chuckled, planting a quick kiss on the side of her head. “That went about as well as I had anticipated. Are you all right?”

Gemma flashed him a smile. “Of course.”

Wyatt looked up as Jonah strode through the door, dressed in a blue velvet tailcoat with double-breasted brass buttons.

He took off his top hat and handed it to Fielding, who was waiting at the door.

Wyatt shook Jonah's hand firmly and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Anderson. You've no idea how glad I am to see you, old man.”

Jonah laughed. “Are you now? Is this night of nights not going as smoothly as you had hoped?”

Gemma hid a smile.

“Well,” said Wyatt, “it began with a delightful encounter with Miss Henford and her family.”

Jonah's eyes drifted past him to glance down the passage that led to the ballroom. “Is that so?” After a moment, he turned back to the couple, planting a kiss on Gemma's gloved hand. “Your Grace. You look divine.”

Gemma's cheeks flushed slightly. “Thank you, Lord Anderson. I am glad you could come. It seems my husband is in need of some less critical company.”

Jonah laughed brassily. “That's me, Your Grace. Less critical.”

Wyatt smiled. He realized with a pang of guilt that the last time they had spoken, he had not asked Jonah about his recent escapades.

He had been so caught up in his own thoughts of the ball that he had neglected to ask his friend about the affair he claimed to be having with a married woman.

He made a mental note to ask his friend about it later when Gemma was not around.

With Gemma on his arm, Wyatt made his way toward the ballroom.

His mother, he noticed, had gone on ahead of them with Miss Henford and her family, the lot of them no doubt bemoaning the fact that Henrietta was not Duchess of Larsen.

He looked over at Gemma, trying to catch her eye.

All right ? he tried to ask her wordlessly.

And it seemed he had been successful, as she gave him the faintest of nods and a smile.

She had her chin lifted and her shoulders pressed back; his fine upstanding Lady Gemma, who would not let petty schemers like Henrietta Henford and her family get to her.

Wyatt felt his heart swell in his chest. I love her . The thought came to him unbidden and caused a sudden intake of breath.

She looked over at him. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”

He pressed his hand against hers and squeezed gently.

Everything has happened. You have happened.

“Yes, I'm perfectly all right.” This new knowledge that he loved her was unmooring, but strangely, it was not frightening.

And in a way, perhaps, it was not new at all.

Perhaps a part of him had always known it.

In the past, he had always shied away from getting close to a woman—indeed, one of the reasons he had agreed to marrying Miss Henford was that he knew he would never have any feelings for her, and his life would go on much the way it had before.

He would be safe and secure in the knowledge that he would never have face the vulnerability of caring so deeply for anyone other than himself.

Wyatt had always assumed that marriage would change nothing when it came to his heart. He would still spend each night out on the town, ready to slide into bed with whichever lady happened to catch his eye.

How wrong I was. Never in a million years had he imagined he might fall so hard for his own wife. And never in a million and one years had he imagined that wife might be Lady Gemma Caster.

Well. Maybe that last part was not entirely true.

Because from the moment he and Gemma had woken up in bed together at the Henfords' party, she had been firmly entrenched in his mind.

He had known there was something special about her from the moment he had opened his eyes and felt his heart quicken at the realization that she was beside him.

And all right, yes, from the realization that she was having a fine little exploration of his most private of parts.

He chuckled to himself. His fine, upstanding Gemma. How mortified she must have been!

“What is so amusing?” she asked him, her voice low.

Wyatt flashed her a smile. “Nothing. I will tell you later.” Once they had gotten through this confounded ball; once the two of them were safely tucked away in his bedchamber, he planned to tease her mercilessly.

Because now that he thought about it, he really had not gotten enough mileage out of that blissful little incident. The moment when she stole my heart.

He fought back a sudden urge to kiss her, knowing it would be highly inappropriate to do so here and now. He had promised Gemma he would never shame her again, and ravishing her in the doorway of their own ballroom was the perfect way to do so.

Then again, maybe that was exactly what the ton needed to see. Maybe if they saw how much he cared for his wife, and how deep and authentic their marriage was, it would put an end to such outlandish stories as Gemma's fictitious affairs.

In any case, it would certainly show his mother.

He hurriedly pushed the thought away. It was far too tempting a prospect to dwell on.

Gemma caught his eye and laughed slightly. “What are you grinning at? Something has obviously amused you. Tell me now.”