Chapter Fifteen
Drink in hand, Nash approached Arabella just as Lady Grace’s hateful words rang out in the darkened garden. Fortunately, no one remained on the patio to hear her vitriol, since the music had resumed. He took deep breaths to calm himself. The chit had gone beyond the bounds of decent behavior.
“Here you are, sweeting.” He held out a glass of champagne. “I am afraid the ratafia was all gone. Not that I believe you prefer that over champagne,” he joked.
Arabella accepted the glass with a shaky hand. His attempt to control his anger was less than successful. Her tightened lips fed the beast rising up to roar and strike out at the one who’d hurt someone under his care. It would certainly not be acceptable to tear around the corner and throttle the girl, but had she been a man that was precisely what he would have done.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Arabella avoided his eyes and sipped the drink. She placed the glass on a small table next to them as one lone tear slid down her cheek. She quickly swiped it from her cheek and looked at him, her chin raised. Her face was pale in the moonlight, and she shuddered as if a sudden chill overtook her. His mind made up, he extended his arm. “Do you care for a walk, sweeting?”
Arabella glanced at the balustrade where Lady Grace and her cohorts stood. Straightening her shoulders, she studied him with narrowed eyes. From what he’d seen thus far, she was a strong woman who did not shy away from problems. Considering how well she’d accepted her mother’s actions that had led to their forced marriage, plus all the animals she’d taken care of and nursed back to health—alone—his countess was no weakling.
But she was much too honest for the subterfuge of the ton. Cutting words and innuendoes were not her method of dealing with the world. Unfortunately, it was the means that many of the ladies of the ton employed. Curse their black hearts.
He tilted his head to one side and studied her, challenging her. “Yes?”
She stared back at him, a slight smile coming to her lips. Very kissable lips. “Yes, I believe I would enjoy a stroll. ’Tis truly a lovely evening, is it not?”
That’s my girl.
Holding firmly onto his arm, they took the few steps into the garden. Lady Grace and two other young women stood near the wall, within plain sight of an older woman, a bit of distance from them, obviously one of their chaperones. Lady Grace’s cheeks flushed at their appearance, but she raised her nose in the air as they approached.
“Good evening, ladies.” Nash bowed slightly and turned his glare toward Lady Grace. “I am sorry, my lady, but I seem to have missed part of what you said about my wife just now. Care to repeat it?”
Lady Grace flushed a deeper red under the lights shining from the ballroom. “’Twas nothing, my lord.” She curtsied. Her two companions quickly followed suit, their faces also flushing.
His resilient wife stood by his side, her chin up, her eyes flashing. Nash drew her closer and covered the gloved hand on his arm with his. He had no doubt Arabella could handle herself, but as her husband and protector, it was his duty. “I do hope it was nothing, because I would be most upset if I heard untoward rumors bandied about regarding my countess.” He looked directly at Lady Grace. “Surely you understand?”
When she did not answer, but continued to stare into the darkened garden, he added, “Lady Grace? Shall I assume you comprehend?”
Lady Grace glanced at him briefly and mumbled an acknowledgment. Stubborn little minx. And to think he’d almost married her. Her two companions looked decidedly uncomfortable. Nash turned his attention to them. “That goes for you, as well. The only whispers I expect to hear forthcoming about my wife will be complimentary ones.” He paused, then added, “Am I correct in my assumption that there is nothing unclear about that?”
The two ladies nodded.
“Thank you, ladies. I wish you a pleasant evening.” He moved away, and he and his wife continued their walk along the garden path, the smell of late spring flowers wafting in the air. Nash leaned in closer. “I believe it is over now.”
When they were far enough away that she could not be heard by the young ladies, she said, “I am glad you did that.”
His eyebrows rose. “Why would I not?”
Arabella shrugged. “You were about to make an offer for Lady Grace.”
He smirked and patted her hand. “This is perhaps not the best time to remind me of that fact.” Placing his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close to his side when she continued to shiver. He turned them around, and they walked back toward the patio. Either nerves or the cool air was chilling her, and he did not want a reoccurrence of her illness. “Frankly, I was afraid if I did not defend you, that you would find a way to achieve satisfaction yourself.” He grinned at her. “A critter of some sort or another in her carriage, perhaps?”
Once they reached the patio door, he opened it and escorted her through to the ballroom. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “You read my mind, my lord.”
His laughter had heads turning in their direction.
…
The following week, at the end of a long day of dealing with household matters, Arabella picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs to the second floor of the townhouse. She reached the corridor and walking briskly, her head down as she thought of the ball that evening, ran directly into Nash as he left his bedchamber. He grabbed her shoulders. “Slow down, sweeting, where are you off to?”
Startled from the collision, she reared back. “Oh. My apologies. I am going to check on my animals.”
“You do remember the Kensington ball this evening?”
She bristled. He had been watching over her shoulder all week. Just yesterday, when he’d heard Quinn announce that Lady Matilda and her daughter, Miss Petunia, had called, Nash had dragged her into her bedchamber and instructed her on how to conduct herself.
Rounding on him, she’d said, “My lord, although you have very little faith in my ability to conduct myself, please know that I have not lived under a rock these past years. Mother and I oftentimes made and received afternoon calls.”
Now he wanted to make sure she would not forget an event she’d been reminded of extensively. “I am unlikely to forget, since you’ve repeated the message several times, Sophia has already laid out my gown, and Andrews took it upon himself to order me a bath. Honestly, it is as though no one thinks I have a brain in my head.”
“I am trying to secure our place in Society. It is important to me, as it should be to you, as well.”
“Why? No one cares if I attend or not. Lady Grace will be looking for any opportunity to malign me, your old friend, Lady Walthrop will be just breathless with anticipation at your arrival, and I will undoubtedly do something to call attention to myself.”
“If you behave yourself as a countess should, you will not call attention to yourself.”
Oh, his arrogance was unequaled. With a curt nod, she swept past him then stopped at the doorway to the room where her recovering animals were. “Please instruct Cook to send a tray to my room. I will be too busy preparing for the ball to dine with you.”
By the time she closed the door, she was breathing heavily and mad enough to scream. But then, a countess never screamed. Or called attention to herself. Or handled animals.
It seemed ever since the Kendall ball, Nash had found one thing or another to criticize her for that had left her wanting. The closeness she’d felt after he defended her had been slowly chiseled away over time. Perhaps he felt Lady Grace’s criticism of her was justified, after all.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and focused on her furry friends. “Good evening, everyone.” Her spirits rose as she checked each animal under her care and fussed with the bandage on the small pug she’d found a few days before. The poor thing had a large splinter in its paw that she’d carefully removed before applying a salve and bandage.
She moved to the next box and sucked in a deep breath. The poor little bird she’d rescued from a cat’s mouth had died. She hated when her efforts did not work. There would be no time for a quick burial, since she had to prepare for the ball. Truthfully, she’d rather bury the bird.
With a sigh, she left the room. Duty called.
“My lady, you look stunning!” Sophia stood back and admired the work she’d done on Arabella. Her gown of crimson red silk with a white net embroidered overlay, cap sleeves off the shoulders, and a low-cut bodice, highlighted the alabaster white of her creamy skin and the slight flush to her cheeks.
Her long white satin gloves left only a few inches of skin on her arm exposed. Sophia had brushed her hair into a fine gloss and pulled the curls up to the crown of her head to cascade down her back. A curl had been left on each side to dangle by her ears.
Arabella viewed herself in the mirror and was pleased. Her ensemble gave her the confidence she needed to face Society once again. “Sophia please fetch the ruby necklace and matching pieces. They will go well with this gown.”
A tap on the door between their bedchambers drew her eyes to where Nash appeared. His eyes raked her seductively, the look tightening her nipples and sending a message to her lower parts. Slowly she raised her chin, thrilled at the effect she’d had on him. “I am almost ready.”
In a few lengthy strides, he was across the room and standing in front of her, his hand out to Sophia. “I’ll finish up, Sophia. You may leave now.” His eyes never left hers, and the depth of his voice sent chills washing over her. To the point where she shivered.
Sophia deposited the jewelry into his outstretched hand and scurried away, a smirk on her face.
Apparently aware of tension between then, Nash gave Arabella a slow grin and did a quick circular movement with his finger, indicating she should turn. She had full view of them both in the mirror. Nash’s swarthy skin above his starched cravat, the blond curls teasing his forehead, and his darkened blue eyes, staring at her intently.
He set the pieces on the dressing table and placed his hands on her shoulders. Brushing aside her curls, his head descended, the warm moistness of his breath teasing the hair at her nape. She closed her eyes as his lips touched her skin. She jolted at the contact and let out a soft moan.
Her head fell to one side as he kissed, nipped, and licked the delicate skin. A slow, dull ache began between her legs, and her knees felt about to give in. Sensing her need, he wrapped one strong arm around her waist to hold her up, pressing her against his hard body. With his other hand, he turned her head, and his mouth covered hers hungrily.
His mouth slid to her jaw, her neck, the sensitive skin behind her ear. “What do you say we skip this ball and find other, more pleasing ways to occupy our time?”
For once, Arabella did want to attend a ball. She felt confident and loved the way she looked. Tonight, she would show the ton that she truly was a countess.
Nash tucked his hand into her bodice and fingered her nipple. Oh, the man was convincing. She purred as he kissed her neck again and did wonderful things with his naughty finger. Just as she was ready to rid herself of her lovely gown, Nash pulled back and sighed. “I am sorry, sweetheart, but this is one ball we do need to attend.”
She stared up at him, still lost in the feelings he’d evoked. “Why?”
He reached for the necklace on the dressing table. “Two of the lords I need to help push through my bill in Parliament will be there. It is almost impossible to get these men together, and this might be my only chance.”
Her head spinning, she nodded and allowed him to fasten the necklace. She took the rest of the pieces from him and quickly added them to her arm, finger, and ears. By the time she finished, she’d almost recovered from his passionate assault. Taking a deep breath to release any remnants from their love play, she smiled and accepted his arm.
…
It had taken all of Nash’s control to pull back from Arabella and to think of his duty. If his bill, which was important to the members of the army, was not passed this session, the soldiers would face another year of ill-equipped quarters and insufficient pay. Lords Dressen and Tamlin were close to agreeing and only needed one more push. Especially, if they knew that both of them supported the bill.
However, one glance at Arabella and he had wanted nothing more than to strip that beautiful gown off her and spend hours in bed, kissing every inch of her nude body. At times, it was difficult to remember one’s duty and carry through. He comforted his raging erection with the thought that once they returned home, he would see to another sort of duty to his title.
He could not stop staring at her on the way to the Kensington ball. The soft light from the lantern on the inside of the carriage highlighted the golden streaks in her hair. Her lips were still plump from his kiss, and her perfectly arranged hair had been mussed a bit. When had she grown so seductive? He’d desired her almost from the first, but this was something different.
Was it the gown, or had she changed? Or perhaps she hadn’t changed at all, but he’d never noticed her strong sexual appeal. He shifted in his seat, slightly annoyed that other men would have the opportunity to ogle her.
Their arrival at this ball was markedly different than the last one. Arabella held her head high, confidence in her every movement. His muscles tightened at the stares she was receiving from the men in the room. Had they no one else to gape at? He took her small hand resting on his arm in his and wrapped his arm around her waist. A definite possessive move that was very unlike him. She looked at him, a slight smile that had heat rising to his face. Bloody hell, he was acting like a lovestruck half-wit, the type of man he’d always pitied.
He frowned when Lord Applegate, trailed by two other fools, moved toward them, Applegate’s eyes practically falling out of his muddled head. “My lady.” He bowed and took her extended hand. “You are looking spectacularly enchanting this evening.”
Nash snorted as Arabella did a slight dip and blushed prettily. “Thank you, my lord.”
Mr. Marshall, a known libertine and third son of the Earl of Lancaster, was next to bow and stare at Arabella’s breasts. Nash ran his finger around the inside of his cravat. He would need to find the two lords he must speak with and whisk Arabella home. She was not used to this attention, and she was probably very uncomfortable.
“May I request to be added to your dance card, my lady?” Applegate broke into a foolish grin that had Nash itching to punch it off his ridiculous face. Of course, it would be good manners for Arabella to accept, but since he knew her so well, he would excuse this lapse of good behavior when she refused him.
“Yes, my lord. I would be delighted to add you to my dance card.” She lowered her lashes and held out the small card dangling from her wrist.
Good lord, the woman was flirting! He looked back and forth between Applegate and Arabella, his mouth agape. Before he had recovered his senses, Marshall, and the other man with their group, Lord Boyle, had written their names on her dance card as well. Nash grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing footman and gulped it down as he watched his wife—who liked to sew up bloody animals—banter with three of the most notorious members of the ton.
The orchestra started up a waltz, and setting the glass in his hand on a nearby table, Nash took Arabella’s hand. “My dear. I believe this is my dance.”
She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “Did you write your name on my dance card?”
He growled and tugged her away from her admirers, holding her hand tightly as he led her to the dance floor. He spun her around into his arms, gripping her waist, his face close to hers. “I do not need to write my name on your dance card.”
Arabella shrugged. “I was merely asking, my lord.” The grin on her face riled him even more.
The dance number began, and they moved with the music. “You are very popular tonight, my dear.” Lord, he hated how his voice sounded. He was leaving himself open for her scorn. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was jealous. Which he was not, of course, but there was no reason to make her believe that.
“Do you think so?” She seemed actually pleased.
“I thought you did not enjoy the attentions of the ton.” Could she hear the desperation in his voice? He needed to pull himself together before she burst out laughing. Taking a deep breath, he turned them to avoid another couple.
“I find I do not mind it so much this evening. Perhaps I have been misjudging people.”
She had not been misjudging people, she had merely been dressed as the wallflower she’d thought herself to be. Only good enough for old men. He pulled her closer, their thighs touching as they moved in a circle.
“Nash, I don’t think this is respectable.” She tried to ease back. He was having none of it. She belonged to him, and everyone here would know it.
He leaned in, whispering in her ear. “When we get home, I will show you how very unrespectable I can be.”
Her breath hitched. “I don’t think that’s a word.”
“No matter. What I have in mind does not require words.” He spun her around, noting how weak her legs seemed as she clung to him. “Trust me.”