Page 70 of Rogue of My Heart

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s being daft. So tonight, dance as many times as you want. Flirt with other men. Not too much, you don’t want to make him look bad. But enough to make him notice you. You want his eyes on you at all times. Perhaps remembering who you are and the kind of competition there was for your hand might knock some sense into him.”

“It’s doubtful.”

“What do you have to lose?”

Thirteen

Edmond leaned against a column, watching his wife spin across the dance floor with Lord Benchly.

“You do know the two of you are the talk of the town,” his companion said. Drake Hamming, the Marquis of St. Grey, and Edmond had been friends since school. He had a rakish reputation, but was the only friend who’d stood by Edmond when his mother’s illness had gotten worse, and when the family’s finances had nearly depleted.

“You of all people should know that, as much as you love gossip,” Grey said.

Edmond quirked a smile. “It is not that I love gossip, I merely seem to absorb it and I pass it on when it suits me.”

Grey grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “Call it what you like,” he said with a shrug.

Truth be told, Edmond hadn’t heard the gossip. He’d intentionally been ignoring his usual haunts, merely to avoid such things. No doubt they talked about how scandalized Charlotte had been, and how he had ridden in to save the day. They would make him hero to her villain and he hadn’t wanted to hear it.

“What are people saying?” he asked. Grey would not judge him for his curiosity, nor anger, if Edmond told him he’d heard enough.

“For one, people seem amazed that someone finally persuaded Charlotte Reed to marry them. Despite the scandal, they seem most fascinated by that fact,” Grey said.

“That I persuaded her to marry me?” What choice had she had in the matter? “So there is not much talk about the compromise then?”

Grey downed his champagne, then made a face. “Wretched drink. There has been some. The kinder folks say that she couldn’t help what happened, that she was taken advantage of from that beastly thief,” he said, the last bit in a mock-feminine voice. “There are others, though, who have not been as forgiving.”

Edmond wanted to ask for names. But then, what would he do with them? Confront a poor aging woman and tell her to keep her tongue in her mouth?

“So how did you do it?” Grey asked.

“Do what?”

“Convince her to marry you.”

Evidently Edmond wasn’t the only one doubting his worth of his bride. Only no one else knew the full truth, well except his sister. “I simply asked and she accepted.”

Grey nodded. “She looks happy.” He nodded to Charlotte out on the ballroom floor.

She did look happy. Her smile was full and her eyes bright as she danced. Then, as if she could feel him watching her, she looked across the ballroom and met his gaze. Something unsaid passed between them, something he’d wager neither of them understood. She nearly missed her next move, so she turned away from him, and once again faced her partner.

She might be happy, but Edmond knew he had nothing to do with that.

Three dances later, Charlotte had still not returned to his. Grey had left him to go in search of something stiffer to drink and Edmond stood alone, watching other men touch his wife.

He’d watched her dance plenty of times before. She always had a full dance card and no doubt had very sore feet by the time she crawled into her bed at night. He’d only asked for one dance tonight, the last waltz. In the meantime, she was taking advantage of his generosity to share her.

“Jealous?” Grey asked as he slid next to Edmond.

“Damn, don’t you make a sound when you walk.”

“Here.” He handed Edmond a glass of amber liquid.

Edmond nodded his appreciation. “No, I am not jealous. It is I who she will go home with.”

“And warm your bed,” Grey filled in.