Chapter Sixteen
Arabella was certain Sophia had laced her stays too tight. Ever since Nash had entered her bedroom earlier, she’d had trouble breathing. Now with the look on his face, and his comments, she was sure she’d faint dead away.
His muscled arm was tight against her waist, his hand splayed across her lower back. Muscular thighs encased in satin breeches—which were now touching her legs in a most inappropriate manner—along with his black waistcoat and tailcoat gave him a very rakish look.
Their entrance down the stairs to the ballroom had been much friendlier this time. She couldn’t help but think it had a great deal to do with her husband. Every woman they passed had eyed him as if he were the next course in their dinner. Were she not so annoyed at their forwardness, she might have giggled at the two young ladies who dropped their handkerchiefs in his path.
Thankfully, he had missed it. He seemed too taken up with the few gentlemen who had requested dances from her. She thought it was very nice of them, since she would no doubt have a mostly empty dance card.
The music came to an end. Nash seemed reluctant to let her go. She viewed him with curiosity as she attempted to move out of his arms. “Nash? I believe I would like a glass of lemonade before my next dance.”
“Certainly, my dear.” Keeping his hand on her lower back, he walked her back to the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. He maneuvered her around several gentlemen who seemed to want to speak to them and right to a group of elderly matrons, who immediately invited her into their conversation about their various ailments.
Confused at his behavior since they’d arrived, she watched him make his way back to the refreshment table. Lady Humphries tapped her on the arm with her fan. “No point in watching him, dear, men will do what they want. You best remember that.” She tapped her cane on the floor to emphasize her point.
“I beg your pardon?” What did the woman mean?
“I know you are recently married, but you might as well learn the way of it. Your mother should have told you. But if she hasn’t, then I will.” She leaned in close, the smell of her breath bringing tears to Arabella’s eyes. “Men have mistresses.”
Arabella continued to stare at her. “Mistresses?”
“Yes. You might as well accept it, gel. Get what you can from him in the way of jewels, gowns, and trips. Give him an heir and a spare and then go your own way, too.” She winked.
Arabella drew back, running her tongue over her lips. “If you will excuse me, my lady.”
Despite wanting to rush from the room to the patio to get fresh air, her way was blocked by one man after another, requesting dances. As soon as she reached out to open the door, a large hand covered hers. “Where are you off to? I thought you were thirsty.”
She turned and gave Nash a bright smile. “I felt the need for some air. ’Tis quite crowded in here.”
Nash took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and escorted her out the door, still holding two glasses of champagne in his other hand. He led her to an empty table and placed the drinks down. “You do look a bit flushed.” He joined her and slid a glass in front of her.
Should she come right out and ask him?
I am just curious, my lord. How is your mistress?
Trying not to be obvious, she studied him under lowered lashes. He certainly was handsome enough. Even though she’d known him for a while through Eugenia, she’d never taken particular notice of his looks. It was well known among the Quality that the Earl of Clarendon was an excellent catch. Even after he had turned his attention to Lady Grace, the other young ladies had continued to do whatever it was they could, within the bounds of propriety, to gain his notice.
After the display she’d seen this evening, with women, young and old, following him with their eyes, it appeared he was still quite popular with the ladies. Something ugly inside of her twisted and called out to let the world know Lord Clarendon was taken. He was hers. Maybe not by choice, but nevertheless, still hers.
“What? You’re looking at me like you want to snap my head off.” Nash took the last sip of his drink.
She would never let him know she was jealous. Of course, she wasn’t jealous, only that she did not want to be made a fool of by having women draped all over her husband in public. “It seemed to take quite a long time for you to bring my drink.”
His eyes grew wide. “A long time?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Not as long as it took you to make your way through the ballroom what with stopping every man in your path so he could write his name on your dance card.”
Arabella gritted her teeth. “They were stopping me. I was anxious to wade through the crowd and inhale some fresh air.”
Nash opened his mouth to speak when a voice interrupted them. “Oh, here you are my lady. ’Tis time for our dance.” Lord Applegate walked toward them, his hand extended.
“Her foot hurts,” Nash snapped.
Arabella’s jaw dropped. “No, it doesn’t!” She stood and took Lord Applegate’s hand. Whatever was the matter with him? If she didn’t know better, she would think he was jealous of the attention she was getting. Foolish thought, that.
He stood and walked with them to the ballroom doors. “I am glad to see you are feeling better, my dear. If you wish to return home, I will be happy to escort you.”
She drew herself up and cast him her stoniest glare. “No, thank you. I am fine. Please excuse us.” Wanting to slap the silly grin off Lord Applegate’s face, she glared in his direction, too, and then placed her hand on his arm.
Not as muscular as Nash’s.
They joined the line of dancers just as the music started up.
…
Nash leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched Arabella and Applegate as they joined the dance. He felt like a fool and wanted more than anything to take back his stupid remark about her foot. Applegate was still grinning.
The idiot.
He smelled her scent before he saw her. Overpowering roses and some other mysterious fragrance. With a slight groan, he turned to face Lady Walthrop. If the woman took in a deep breath, her charms would tumble out of her bodice. She leaned against him, her fan tapping his chest. “I have been looking for you, my lord.”
“Indeed?”
She raised her slender arm and waved her hand back and forth so the card tied there swung in front of his face. “I do not see your name on my dance card.” She grinned. “A mistake, I am sure.”
He bowed. “Of course. It is just that I have not seen you yet this evening.”
She pouted, something that had probably looked adorable when she was the darling of the ton, but now appeared false and contrived. “I will not accept that, my lord. You looked directly at me when you first arrived.”
When he’d been watching all the men who were ogling his wife.
“Then it is definitely time to have my vision checked, my lady.” He took her card and scribbled his name on an empty spot.
She glanced at the card. “Oh, how wonderful. You have the supper waltz.” Before he could say anything, she patted his cheek and said, “Now I must be off. Mr. Garvey has the next dance.” She swept away, leaving behind her scent and his stomach in knots.
Bloody hell. How would he explain to Arabella that Lady Walthrop had claimed the supper dance? That also meant his wife would be free to waltz with someone else and then take supper with him. That yet-unknown man would be free to gaze at her rounded breasts each time she took a breath.
Said unknown libertine was a dead man.
Two young ladies strolled up to him with Lord Abbott. The man introduced them as his sister, Lady Miranda, and her friend, Miss Ellis. Both ladies were young, most likely fresh out of the schoolroom. Exactly the type of girl he’d been avoiding most of his adult life until he had decided to take a bride and focused on Lady Grace. But now, it mattered not, since he was married.
Being the proper gentleman, he wrote his name on their dance cards and waited for his wife to finish her dance with Applegate. Once they joined their little circle, Nash spotted Lord Dressen across the room, speaking with another member of the House of Lords. Finding the perfect opportunity to convince the man to support his bill, he excused himself from the group and headed in the man’s direction.
No sooner had they begun to talk than the next dance started. He explained the necessity of passing the bill all the while watching Arabella dance a lively country dance with Marshall. Did she have to bounce up and down so much? Her breasts were having a fine time with all that jiggling, and Marshall was having as good of a time studying them. Once he blackened the man’s eyes it would be some time before he could leer at another woman.
“I say, Clarendon, you seem a bit distracted.” Dressen regarded him through his quizzing glass.
“My apologies.” He pulled his attention away from Arabella and tried his best to concentrate on what the man was rambling on about. He’d already gotten his assurance he would vote in favor of the bill. Now he was regaling Nash with stories about his hounds.
More animals. He was truly cursed.
He finally disentangled himself from Dressen and hailed Lord Tamlin. Twice, his conversation with him was interrupted by promised dances to young ladies. In the meantime, he’d lost track of Arabella. He’d catch her laughing and dancing with some gentleman, and then she’d be gone again.
The orchestra had been silent for some time when Nash finally realized the music had stopped. The noise from all the various conversations was beginning to give him a headache. He said his farewell to Tamlin and began to search for Arabella. He turned suddenly when there was a light tap on his shoulder.
“The orchestra is returning. It is time for the supper waltz.” Arabella beamed at him, causing him to break into a smile. She was flushed from all the dancing, her hair was not quite as set as it had been when they’d arrived, and she looked absolutely beautiful.
“It appears you have been having a good time.” He took her hand in his and kissed the back of her wrist, wishing it was bare skin and not her glove.
“Yes. But I believe I am ready for some supper, and then maybe a return home?” Her voice was low and sultry, and she tilted her head in a coquettish manner.
His blood boiled, and his cock shouted “hurrah.” Precisely what he had in mind. The first notes of the waltz began just as Lady Walthrop tapped him on the arm. He’d completely forgotten about her and now wished he had left earlier. Arabella viewed her with raised eyebrows.
“I believe you indicated your desire to have me for the supper waltz, my lord?” She held up the dance card dangling from her wrist, her eyes telling him she worded her statement as she had on purpose.
He turned his head to where Arabella stood next to him. He could probably cook his dinner over the steam coming from her ears. He stepped closer to Lady Walthrop, afraid for her well-being. His wife took in an exceptionally deep breath and raised her chin. “I will see you after supper, my lord.” With that pronouncement, she turned on her heel and moved away from him.
Lady Walthrop gave him a siren’s smile. “The music is starting.”
He took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor. He kept a decent amount of space between them, even though his dance partner seemed to have other ideas.
Bloody, bloody hell.
…
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. The words pounded in Arabella’s head as she pushed her way through the throng of dancers and headed for the ladies’ retiring room. She kept a smile plastered on her face.
How dare the man arrange to have the supper waltz and meal with that trollop? She was hanging all over him, patting him on the chest, and staring up into his eyes. Eyes she wanted to scratch out.
Is Lady Walthrop his mistress?
The thought almost brought her to her knees. She’d best take a deep breath and compose herself. She was beginning to think like a jealous wife. She was not a jealous wife. If he wanted to take mistresses, it would not be her concern.
Then why did the thought of Nash doing all the wonderful things he did to her to another woman cause her stomach to cramp? Too confused and hurt to overly examine her feelings, she almost made it out of the ballroom when Lord Munro stepped in front of her. “Lady Clarendon! Certainly, surely you are not without a partner?”
“It seems I am, my lord.” Well, apparently, her brain and mouth still functioned.
“Then I must rectify that situation immediately.” He extended his arm, a broad smile on his face. She looked up at the man towering over her. Not classically handsome, nevertheless his strong features drew the attention of many of the young ladies. He was slender, yet still filled out his jacket well. His dark hair was done in one of those fancy styles she did not particularly like, but overall, his appearance was quite pleasing.
Why should she sit out the dance and supper in the ladies’ retiring room? Hadn’t she done enough of that before she married, avoiding the old men her mother pushed on her? She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “I will be happy to accompany you, my lord.”
He swept her into his arms, and they joined the couples on the floor. He was an excellent dancer and kept up a lively conversation.
But he wasn’t Nash.
Lord Munro turned her, and she got a glimpse of Nash and Lady Walthrop. She was happy to see Nash looking around, his lips tightening when his eyes rested on her. She took the opportunity to gaze up at Lord Munro and laughed as if he’d said something funny.
They spent the rest of the dance glaring at each other every time they came into view. The supper was no better. Lord Munro offered to have them sit with Nash and Lady Walthrop. She declined, since she wasn’t completely sure she would not dump her supper plate in the woman’s lap.
He seemed uncomfortable with the situation, and even though he tried, very hard, to entertain her, she only gave Lord Munro scant attention. No sooner had she put down her fork than Nash was by her side. “I believe you indicated a desire to return home once supper was finished?”
Arabella looked around, but Lady Walthrop was nowhere to be seen. “Yes. I am feeling a bit weary.” She smiled at Lord Munro. “If you will excuse me, my lord.” She stood and took Nash’s arm, and they strolled around the room on the way to the exit. They were stopped a few times and exchanged pleasantries.
The entire time Arabella was stiff as a board, and the muscles in Nash’s arm were tight under her hand. Neither looked at the other, and their comments to other guests were no more than inane platitudes.
Eventually they found themselves in the entrance hall, waiting for their carriage. Nash helped her on with her pelisse and handed her reticule to her. They were the only guests waiting for a carriage, since the orchestra had started up again.
Arabella had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to protect herself from the feelings racing through her. She had never wanted any of this. Why did she care if he preferred someone else? They had no claim on each other. Husbands and wives were not supposed to live in each other’s pockets anyway. From what she’d seen, many of them did not even attend the same affairs.
She had a nice life. Mother was taken care of, she had her animals, a lovely home, and one day there would probably be a child or two.
An heir and a spare, then you go you can go your own way, too.
There was no fighting it. For better or worse, this was their world.
Nash took her arm and helped her down the stairs. Once she was in the carriage, he held the door open and called up to the driver. “Keep driving until I tap on the ceiling.”
Whatever did that mean? If he thought to complain to her again about the men she’d danced with, he would find she had quite a bit to say to him, as well.
Nash settled in across from her. They remained silent until the carriage was well on its way from Kensington’s townhouse. “Did you have a nice time this evening?” The tightness in his voice sparked something fierce in her.
“Oh my, yes. I had a wonderful time. I enjoyed so many dances with so many handsome and attentive men. It was truly delightful.”
“Don’t…” He growled. His eyes narrowed, and his finger tapped a cadence on his thigh.
She raised her brows at him. “Don’t?”
“Do not say anything else.” He rolled his neck as if to relieve tension.
“I am sorry, my lord. I was under the impression you asked me a question.”
Before the words were completely out of her mouth, Nash reached across the small space and wrapping his hands around her arms, pulled her over to his side. She landed on his lap. “What—”
He placed both of his hands on her head and took her mouth with a savage intensity.