Chapter 13
Drew entered the ballroom a week later hoping his dance lessons with dancing master Thomas Wilson would pay off.
He spent a few moments chatting with the host and hostess, Baron and Baroness Asterland, who were effusive with appreciation for his appearance at their event. His attendance could make it the event of the evening. He then scanned the faces of the crowd.
It took only seconds to locate his quarry, pleased beyond measure when she looked up into his gaze as if sensing his presence.
He definitely took that as a good sign.
His attendance tonight would be focused on marking his territory. No more would the ton be discussing how the Countess of Reignsfield could rid herself of the earl so she could wed the interloper, Sir Robert Gentilly.
No. After tonight, Gentilly would be the usurper. After all, Drew was married to Marianne. While Drew traveled, Gentilly could entertain thoughts of claiming Marianne once the legalities were sorted out. But Drew had met with his solicitors that very morning. He knew exactly what would have to be done to free Marianne. It would not be pretty and Drew would refrain from putting Marianne through it unless she convinced him she very definitely wanted her freedom. Gentilly would have to fight to earn Marianne’s hand. And both Marianne and Gentilly would have to take the unfortunate but necessary actions of sullying their reputations to pursue a divorce.
A remote possibility at the moment, since Drew expected he could entice Marianne to make him her preference. He saw how she watched him beneath lowered lashes. He knew her curiosity about his travels abroad and his relaxation and meditation techniques only grew. She had waited for, wanted his kiss that night in the corridor outside her room. And, she continued to encourage his becoming an instrumental part of Andrea’s little life.
If he had desired Marianne before he returned, discovering his fatherhood to an angel of a little girl made it all the more imperative that Marianne make it clear to all, especially Gentilly, that he, Andrew Saxtonby, Eighth Earl of Reignsfield, was her preference and love.
Tonight, another solid step would be taken in that direction.
As he strode directly across the ballroom, veering only slightly to avoid the dancers on the floor, his gaze remained locked with hers.
“My lady.” He made a formal bow. Taking her offered gloved hand, he brushed a kiss lightly over the satin. Still their eyes did not release. “I believe this is our waltz.”
She glanced briefly at Gentilly, making her excuses and turning her attention to dancing with Drew.
He led her onto the floor, swung her gracefully into his arms, waited moments to pick up the beat of the music, “The Sussex Waltz” by Mozart, then became one of the swirling couples enjoying the experience.
“My lord, you have not forgotten how to waltz after years away from the floor?”
He pulled her just a little closer than would be proper for a courting couple. “Master Wilson has been refreshing my steps and figures these last two weeks. I can only hope I was an apt pupil.”
“We have not danced before, Drew.”
Thank God she used his Christian name. Was it not a good sign?
She continued, “But I would say you are the best lead on the floor.”
“Thank you, as I strive to be of the highest aptitude for my lady wife. You, Marianne, are the fairest of the fair this evening. The pale blue of your gown reminds me of the shallow bays of the Caribbean Sea. It flatters your eyes and complexion. May I assume you are most pleased with the necklace, as you are wearing them to advantage as well?”
The ruby and diamond pendant glittered in the soft candlelight, and the richness of the pearls glowed against the warmth of her skin. Marianne’s gaze swung back from the clusters of onlookers to meet his eyes again. “Yes. They are luminous and seem to flatter everything I wear.”
“They certainly flatter you.” Drew broke his gaze as he turned at the end of the floor. Momentarily his eyes lit on Gentilly’s face. Marianne’s interim beau was not a happy man, his brow furrowed, his body stiff, and leaning as if to charge like a mad bull seeing red. Only Lady Summersborne coming up next to the trespasser deflected the man's obviously seething dislike.
No doubt hatred would more accurately describe the emotion floating through that gentleman’s mind. Drew had returned before being declared deceased, had won the heart of his daughter, and made gradual inroads to winning over his wife. The man must be at a total loss to understand how his plans had gone afoul.
What exactly were Gentilly’s plans? Did he really love Marianne? Or just the monies she controlled? Drew would make it his business to find out.
He returned his attention to his wife but spoke little as the music continued. Upon completion of the waltz, much too short for his liking, he returned his wife to Gentilly’s side and bowed to Lady Summersborne.
“You are an exquisite dancer, my lord.” Vanessa glanced over to Marianne and winked. “Please choose me if you ever have need of a partner.”
“Thank you, Lady Summersborne.”
“Please, your wife and I are close friends. You must call me Vanessa as does she.”
“As you wish, Vanessa.” Drew stepped just behind his wife’s left shoulder so he could loom like a lion behind Gentilly. “Tonight I am here for my lady wife. Not only have we not danced during my absence, we had not had the pleasure before my unexpected departure.”
Vanessa gave him a knowing nod, squeezed Marianne’s hand, and moved off.
The evening continued pleasantly enough for Drew but Gentilly seemed most put out as he could only claim the cotillions and country dances. Drew garnered all of the waltzes.
As her husband, it was his right.
To further discomfit his rival, he made sure to lead Marianne in for supper. Gentilly stewed as he followed, as closely as permissible.
After the final waltz, Drew relented. Turning to his wife he bowed as he kissed her hand. “Thank you, my lady. It has been my pleasure. I will see you at home.”
With a nod to his sneering opponent, he took his leave.