Chapter Five
As it happened, Willa didn’t have to wait until the ball to encounter her aunt.
She and Dax had taken possession of their new rooms at the hotel, which provided a bedchamber for each of them, a tiny room for a servant, and a sitting room. Since the first of Willa’s new evening gowns had been delivered, Daxton proposed they dine publicly in the hotel, and show the world they were married. Willa rang for a hotel maid to help her dress—a brief visit to Clara’s room having found the girl sound asleep, which was probably the best thing for her. Then, duly laced and stayed, Willa dismissed the maid and admired her new gown in the glass from every angle she could. She felt rather strange in the new stays, but they certainly gave her chest more shape. The maid had brushed her hair until it shone like burnished chestnuts, though the girl was not so good with the pins. Willa re-pinned it and examined herself doubtfully.
In the glass, she met Daxton’s gaze. He stood at the half open door.
“Will I do?” she asked nervously.
He blinked. “You look beautiful. But then, you always do, you know. Shall we go down?” The carelessly thrown compliment made her blush.
She’d never felt remotely beautiful before—mostly either awkward or invisible, depending on the company. Daxton looked as handsome as ever in fresh black evening clothes with a snowy white cravat. A few tight lines around his eyes were the only visible aftereffects of his recent spree.
“Oh,” he said, stopping in the middle of the sitting room and lifting a small box from the table where he must have dropped it earlier. “I found this among my things when Carson unpacked again. I bought it for someone else and never gave it, but you might like it tonight at least.”
It was true she had no jewelry apart from the new turquoise set which seemed too elaborate for the occasion, and the red-trimmed cream evening gown did leave her neck and chest somewhat bare. Opening the box, Daxton took out the contents and dangled a gold chain from his careless fingers. On the end of it was a shining round pendant, a small ruby surrounded by a spiral of diamonds.
Her eyes widened, for it was a beautiful and expensive trinket, and could not have been the casual gift he’d made it sound. He’d bought it for a mistress.
“I never gave it,” he repeated. “Until now.”
She smiled. “It’s beautiful, Dax. Since I ran away with you, I seem to be showered with gifts.”
“The wages of sin,” he said with a quick grin and walked behind her to fasten the fine gold chain around her neck. She shivered at the brush of his fingers on her sensitive skin. Then he stepped around her, examined her critically and nodded approval. “Just the thing.” He offered her his arm.
The public areas of the hotel were busy with guests going out for the evening or, like Dax and Willa, heading for the dining room. As they descended the staircase, looking down on the foyer, several heads turned toward them. Willa even saw an elegantly bewhiskered gentleman nudge his companions to draw their attention. Involuntarily, Willa’s fingers grasped Daxton’s sleeve.
“It’s just curiosity,” he murmured. “The rumor mill will have been spinning about both of us. Brazen it out and it will pass. And remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
It was true, she hadn’t. The marriage mart was called so for a reason. All members of the ton bought and sold into matrimony for money, land, political influence, and social ambition. She and Dax were not so very different.
An inconvenient flash of memory popped into her mind—the abandoned interlude in the carriage that had given her a taste of physical pleasure. And absolute clarity. She’d known she would fight for him, for a life with him if she could. And today had shown her that it was possible. At the very least, they could be friends…
“Shelby ahead,” Dax murmured in her ear. “He’s just entered the front door.”
Snapping her attention back to present reality, she saw her cousin Ralph in evening dress, make his way across the foyer to his mother and sister who seemed to be waiting for him impatiently. He looked grumpy and put-upon. But then, he generally did.
“Ready for a little fun?” Dax inquired. “Or shall we give them the cut direct?”
“No,” she decided. “I owe my aunt a private explanation at the least. Let us be civil.”
Besides, there was an undeniable if reprehensible pleasure in watching her family’s faces as they caught sight of her approach. No one could swagger quite like Dax, and he attracted more attention than the Shelbys did. But Ralph saw him first. Emotion flashed across his face. It might have been annoyance, or even fear, for after all, the last time they’d met, Dax had challenged him and knocked him down.
Then Ralph’s lip curled in contempt. He said something to his mother as he made to turn his womenfolk toward the dining room door. Only then, finally, he recognized the well-dressed lady on his enemy’s arm and his jaw dropped spectacularly.
Her aunt’s eyes widened impossibly. She clutched Elvira’s arm.
Elvira goggled. “Good lord, it’s Willa.”
The cut-direct, however, seemed likely to come from Willa’s aunt, who began to turn furiously aside.
Dax refused to allow it. “Ah, Lady Shelby,” he called, when they were still a yard or so away. “Well met. My wife was eager to assure you of her safety and wellbeing.”
Since most of the foyer must have heard that, her aunt could do little but turn back and incline her head stiffly to Daxton.
“Wife?” Elvira blurted in undisguised dismay. She had, after all, married a mere esquire, although he was the heir to a respectable fortune.
“Were you hoping to be an attendant?” Dax asked her. “We preferred a quieter ceremony.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Ralph said nastily.
Dax regarded him consideringly. Alarmed, Willa opened her mouth to try and smooth over the situation before Dax knocked her cousin down again. Then it struck her that she didn’t actually care. On the whole, she rather wished he would. So, she merely dropped his arm so as not to impede him.
The action was not lost on her aunt, who clutched her son’s arm instead. “Lady Daxton,” she got out between closed teeth.
“Aunt,” Willa said pleasantly. “Good evening, Elvira.”
“Please, go in,” Dax said, reclaiming Willa’s hand and placing it back on his arm. “Let’s not stand on precedence. It’s not as if we’re dining together after all,”
Ralph all but stalked inside with his rigid-backed mother on his arm, leaving Elvira to trot behind them.
“Neatly done,” Willa approved, swallowing back the laughter.
“I was about to say the same to you. They really thought I was going to punch Ralph on the nose.”
“Were you?” she asked with interest.
“Say the word and I still will.”
At first, Willa found dinner somewhat nerve-wracking, Very aware that she and Daxton were the center of most diners’ attention, she found it hard to think of anything else. Gradually, however, Daxton’s charm began to work its magic, and she relaxed in his company, resuming the conversation and banter of earlier in the day.
Dax was clearly on his best behavior. He barely touched his wine and drank only one glass of brandy when the meal was finished. Willa couldn’t help the comfortable sense of wellbeing creeping over her. Of course, it was the first time she’d sat down to an undisturbed dinner for years. Her aunt and cousins had sent her on constant, minor errands during most meals, and the result was she’d eaten little and emerged exhausted.
“That was delightful,” she said warmly. “Thank you, Dax.”
“It’s only dinner,” he said, in surprise. “And only tolerable at that. Apart from the company.”
She laughed. “Well recovered,” she mocked.
He grinned, unrepentant. “I meant it. Shall we stay longer or retire?”
Although they had their own bedchambers, her heart immediately lurched in mingled fear and anticipation. But when her gaze flew to his face, she was immediately distracted. His recent dissipation had taken its toll and he was obviously exhausted.
So was she. She’d slept very little last night, and not at all the night before.
“I believe I’m tired,” she said, and he rose immediately to hold her chair for her. It was odd, after the rest of her life, to be treated with the ordinary courtesies due to a lady. “My aunt has gone,” she observed, as they left the dining room and crossed the foyer.
“Good thing, too. Friday-faced set of dullards. How do you come to be related to such people?”
“Luck,” she said wryly. As they climbed the stairs, she remembered another duty. “I’ll just run up to Clara’s room and make sure she ate the meal I had sent up to her.”
“Clara,” he repeated. “The girl you and Carson picked up on the road, whom you’re pretending is your maid?”
“Well, at least until she straightens things out with her family.”
“Hmm,” he said noncommittally.
Her errand eliminated the inexplicable awkwardness she felt in reentering their rooms with him. Part of her hoped he would have retired by the time she returned. Another part wanted him to be waiting. And amorous. But somehow, Dax sober was a very different prospect from Dax on the tail end of a drunken spree. And there were so many arguments against intimacy. For one thing, the marriage couldn’t then be annulled due to non-consummation. And for another, she didn’t want to give into temptation until he felt something for her. If he ever did. She wouldn’t hold out for love, but she needed his care…
Clara was asleep once more, but it seemed to Willa she slept more easily, and at least the plate beside her bed was almost empty. Content, Willa blew out the candle still burning in the room and left again.
In the wider passage downstairs, she all but ran into her aunt. And this time, Lady Shelby was in no hurry to run away. The passage was empty and she actually waited for Willa to reach her.
“Lady Daxton,” she sneered. “Don’t think I don’t know how you achieved it. You’re nothing but a common thief.”
Willa blinked in astonishment. “I imagined you gave me food and clothing freely. What have I ever stolen from you?”
“Don’t pretend innocence with me, you sly little lightskirt. I know you took it, bought yourself into this marriage with it while Daxton was in his cups. You deserve each other.”
“Took what?” Willa demanded again, ignoring the rest from sheer curiosity about this one point.
Her aunt’s lips curled back so far, she was almost snarling. “My purse! The one Ralph gave me the day you ran away.”
Willa opened her mouth to deny it robustly—until it struck her that technically, she had taken it. It would do her no good to accuse Ralph of ordering her to do so and then losing it all to Daxton at dice. To her aunt, Ralph could do no wrong. Besides which, Willa was fairly sure Ralph had accused her in the first place to cover up his own ill-behavior. And the wretched Haines no doubt backed him up from spite, swearing quite truthfully that she’d seen Willa take if from the room.
She frowned at her aunt. “It should have been returned to you.”
“It should never have been taken in the first place!”
Willa was not about to argue that one. “I’ll look into it,” she said shortly and walked past her aunt.
She headed immediately downstairs to the reception desk, but when she asked for the purse which she’d left for Lady Shelby’s maid, the clerk had no idea what she was talking about. Although he looked in all the secure cabinets to please her, there was no purse to be found. Of course, it was not the same clerk she’d given the purse to, but if he couldn’t find it and her aunt had never got it back, where on earth was it?
In deep thought, Willa made her way back up to the rooms she now shared with Dax. The viscount sprawled on the sofa, flicking through the book she’d found that morning.
He glanced up at her. “Mrs. Radcliffe?” he teased. “Really?”
“I enjoy her novels immensely,” Willa said with dignity. “And you needn’t look so superior for I found it in your bedchamber.”
“Did you?” He cast it aside. “I should pack my own valise.”
“Dax, do you remember giving me back my aunt’s purse that you won from Ralph?”
Dax scratched his head. “Sort of. You gave it to the boy on reception duty.”
“For my aunt’s maid.”
“That’s what you said.”
“I thought so. But the thing is, my aunt doesn’t have it. She thinks I stole it. And she won’t keep quiet about it. I know her. Your wife will be branded a thief in the eyes of anyone who matters.”
“Who is it who matters so damned much?” Dax asked.
“People…Your friends… Your father!”
Dax shrugged. “My friends aren’t stupid enough to listen to spiteful gossip from that quarter. And my father has yet to listen to anyone at all, so we’re in the clear. Ignore her. Ralph will have stolen it back.” He rose to his feet yawning. “I could sleep for a week. Do you need anything before I fall upon my bed and snore?”
It might have been an offer to act as lady’s maid. Either way, she turned it down with a smile. “No, I too shall retire. Goodnight, my lord.”
His lips quirked and he bowed exaggeratedly. “My lady.” He took her hand and kissed it with a flourish. “Sleep well.”
His smile, the brief touch of his lips, made her heart race, but he only strolled away to his own bedchamber, where apparently Carson waited for him. She felt rather lonely as she walked to her own room and closed the door.
However, struggling out of her new gown and stays without assistance involved so many contortions that she soon found herself laughing and remembering the fun of the day. And tomorrow, she would still be his wife.
*
In the morning, Clara was much improved. Willa found her out of bed and getting dressed. She even obliged Willa by fastening her new day gown for her.
“If you wish, there is a small chamber in our suite of rooms where you can sleep,” Willa suggested.
“Oh, I don’t know, m’lady. Is there no word from home, yet?”
“None, I’m afraid. The messenger returned from the farm with no reply.”
“I should go home,” she said drearily. “But Mrs. Frame won’t have me help her now I’ve lost my good name, and I’ll be bringing in no money.”
“I think you need to talk to your parents in person,” Willa said. “I’ll come with you if you like and explain that you’ve been with me nearly all of the time. Really, it’s this Jem who should be in trouble over the incident, not you. Won’t your new suitor—Dan?—have told them this?”
Clara scowled. “He’s angry at me, too.”
“Well, you must be my maid for now, and of course you shall be paid for it. Come down when you’re ready.”
Her sitting room was empty when she returned, with no sign of Carson or Dax. She went to her own bedchamber and began tidying away her night things. A few moments later, a robust knock sounded at the outer door. Thinking it must be Clara already, she went and opened it.
A young man in a floppy wool jacket stood before her—pointing a large, old-fashioned pistol at her heart.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Willa stared at the pistol. “Where is who?”
“Back inside,” he snapped, with a nervous glance up and down the passage.
Willa obeyed, desperately trying to grasp what was happening. “Please put the pistol down and I’ll try—”
The pistol jerked menacingly in his hand. “Clara. Clara James.” His gaze darted about the room. “Call her. Bring her here, now.”
“She isn’t here,” Willa said, “and if you imagine waving that at her is going to get her back—”
“I’m not waving it at her, I’m waving it at you! Who are you anyway? His procuress?”
Willa frowned. “I don’t know what that means, precisely, but I expect it’s insulting.” Worse, she began to suspect the young man was mad. This must be Jem, the rejected suitor who’d abducted Clara. No wonder she’d thrown him over.
“I won’t have her with that man another instant!” he said desperately. “Bring her to me now!”
“What man?” Willa demanded, losing patience, despite the alarming way he jerked the pistol around.
“Daxton!” the man said with loathing. “Lord Daxton. I know she’s in his clutches, so bring her to me now!”
“Oh, you completely misunderstand,” Willa began with premature relief.
“Enough!” the man roared, and actually seized her by the arm, dragging her toward the nearest door, which happened to be Daxton’s bedchamber. Willa pulled back instinctively, terrified now for Dax. But the man’s grip tightened, and they struggled, sliding one pace forward and another back until, wild-eyed, he brandished the pistol in her face.
Worst of all, Daxton’s bedchamber door flew open and the viscount himself strode out in pantaloons and shirt sleeves. “What the deuce is—”
His eyes widened at the violent scene before him. The pistol jerked around to point directly at him. But with a roar, he flew at Willa’s assailant, who instinctively released her to deal with the larger threat.
In that instant, Dax looked terrifying. Sheer murder glinted in his hard, furious eyes.
Then the pistol fired.