Chapter Eleven
The ball held in their honour by Jake Huntington was to be their first public appearance as a married couple and Fred wanted nothing less than perfection. It had been some months since Jake had been elevated to his father’s title, but until now there had been no sign that he was ready to come out of his mourning and entertain. The Westmoor home had been shut tight against visitors for the whole of the Season, much to the disappointment of mothers with marriable daughters. A young bachelor duke was a precious commodity and his refusal to put away his blacks and secure the succession with marriage was considered not so much respect for the dead as disrespect of the natural order.
He had decided to make an exception to celebrate his friend’s wedding. Fred had not thought it necessary to sit Georgiana down and lecture her on the significance of this event. She’d seemed properly impressed by the invitation on thick paper embossed with the gold Westmoor crest. But this party was so much more important than a normal social event. Jake would have been horrified to think his profound grief and social isolation was already the topic of worried conversation by his friends. If this ball signified an end, it was truly a reason to rejoice.
Fred would not see it ruined by a foolish girl who was likely to make them both late just to spite him. She had returned from shopping at six in the evening, long past the point where he feared she was not coming back at all. He had been ready to call for the servants to search the streets when he’d heard a slam of the front door and she’d breezed past his study without a word of apology or explanation.
A footman had followed a short time later, carrying a huge stack of boxes that offered Fred assurance that she had actually gone to Bond Street and not cock-fighting or some other totally unacceptable activity. Instead, she had been behaving like a normal female, wasting time and money, too obsessed with parading about the town to notice the trouble she was causing.
She had best get such vanity out of her system while she could. She might weep like a lost soul when he sent her to the country at the end of the month. But he would not be swayed by tears. There was no need to gild a lily with ruffles and lace. A lack of continual flattery by town dandies would not diminish her natural beauty and might improve her character.
Or perhaps he was wrong about her. At nine, he was waiting in the foyer, prepared to scold her for tardiness, only to have her appear at the head of the stairs just as the clock began to strike the hour. His watch slipped from his fingers, forgotten.
Oliver had been right. She was magnificent. The style she’d chosen for the evening was more sophisticated than the simple gowns she seemed to favour. While white was always fashionable, the green silk she wore tonight would turn heads and leave no doubt why he had married her. What sane man could resist a goddess?
She’d reached the foot of the stairs now, curtsying before him and spreading her skirts with a hopeful smile as if waiting for his approval. Did she actually care for his opinion? Or was she so hungry for praise that she would take it from a man whose company she barely tolerated?
If it was a trap to bring him to his knees before her, then she had succeeded. When he looked at her, all he could manage was an approving nod. How long had it been since the sight of a woman had robbed him of the power of speech? If it had been like this on the first night they’d met, things might have ended differently.
Actually, they might have ended nearly the same. He’d have offered for her before the evening was out and badgered, flattered, and cajoled until she’d accepted him. They’d have been married. He would have lost mastery of his life and future, but he’d have thought it a small sacrifice to win her love.
He had to fight for a moment to remember that love had never been the object. To the ton, the appearance of it mattered far more than the actual emotion ever would. And tonight, for all intents and purposes, she was his. And she was perfect.
He frowned. On closer inspection, she was not and he was the one at fault for it. Her neck, her ears and even the tops of her dancing slippers were bare of ornament. Who but a fool would bring his bride out into the world without a single piece of jewellery? He had married her with a simple gold ring and not bothered with a wedding gift. He had behaved as if his presence was gift enough. Since she had not complained of the absence of jewellery, he had not bothered to give her so much as a hairpin.
‘Wait!’ He sprinted past her, up the stairs to his room, rooting in the back of a bureau drawer to find the jewel case he had all but forgotten. His mother had handed it to him, announcing it was his share of the unentailed property that had belonged to his grandmother.
At the time, he had suspected that what he was receiving had already been rejected by both Mother and Caroline as too far out of style to bother with. Surely there was something in it that might do until he could get to a jewellery store. He opened it, rummaging through the contents for a suitable gift.
It was a sad collection of unmated earbobs and necklaces that were missing stones. But coiled at the bottom, he found a long gold chain, with matching gold eardrops.
His mind flashed to that moment he had seen her on the auction block with a braided ribbon holding her dress. As it had that night, the floor seemed to shift under him. The room grew hot and he was struck by a sudden desire to cancel the outing and stay home with his wife. It took a supreme mastery of will to remember that he had never wanted to marry and especially did not want the woman he had chosen.
Want was the wrong word. He definitely wanted her in the way he usually wanted a woman: naked and in his bed. But when she had accepted his proposal, she had not wanted him. He had assured himself that there were enough other women in the world to make up for the loss of a single wife. Tonight, he was not so sure.
Make her want you.
He had threatened to do it this morning. Judging by the response when he kissed her, it was in his power to do so. At the same time, he recognised that it was unwise. Acting on his desire would complicate matters. There would be other, less irritating women in his future. Women he could walk away from when he was bored with them. It was better to wait.
When he turned to exit his room, it was with a clear head. By the time he’d reached the ground floor where his puzzled wife awaited him, his blood was cool as well.
He held out the chain to her. ‘A token of my affection.’
She arched an eyebrow and gave him a sceptical half-smile, but her eyes sparkled as they looked at the necklace he held. ‘It is lovely. Thank you.’ She bowed her head. ‘Help me with it.’
He draped it over her. Even looping it twice, it still hung low, lying heavy between her perfect breasts. For a moment, he watched it there, fascinated.
‘Are there drops for my ears as well?’ She tapped a finger on his closed hand to make him release the earrings he held. Her touch was warm. He moved slowly, letting her finger stroke his skin as he turned his hand over and opened his fist to reveal the rest of her gift.
She smiled and scooped them up, affixing them to her ears. Then she turned to him. ‘How do I look?’
‘Satisfactory,’ he muttered.
‘Liar,’ she said with a smile. Then she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Let us be off. If we are late, I will not take the blame for it.’
* * *
George had never been to a gathering so wonderful, much less one thrown especially for her. The ballroom of the Duke of Westmoor’s manor was packed with the cream of the ton all eager to congratulate Mrs Challenger and her handsome husband. There was but one conspicuous absence.
She’d mailed her father’s invitation herself, enclosing it in her daily letter. She had even bit her lip and included Marietta, though the sight of that woman was likely to spoil the whole evening for her. But she’d received no answer, nor had either of them appeared this evening.
There was probably a logical explanation for their absence. They might have already gone to the country and missed the post. Or it could be what she feared most: a deliberate snub. She tried not to think about that. Even if it was true, she did not want to spoil the evening by focusing on such a negative possibility.
As she stood admiring the dancers, the Duke himself came to her side. ‘So, my friend refuses to dance with his wife.’
For a moment, she could not manage anything other than a wide-mouthed stare at the man beside her. It was not, precisely, that she had never spoken to a duke before. Her father was a viscount, after all. He had, if not exactly friends, at least acquaintances in the peerage. But that was all they had been to her: men who her father had known, who had no time to be bothered with a girl her age.
Even though her husband had introduced them at the wedding and again tonight, she was still adjusting to the fact that a peer was to be considered a close family friend. ‘I am sure he means no offence by it,’ she said. ‘He is most grateful for the honour you’ve bestowed on us by hosting a ball. But he does not like to dance.’ At least, that was what he’d claimed when he’d refused to stand up for the first set.
The Duke, who’d known Mr Challenger far longer than she, seemed surprised by the statement. He gave a slight shift of his head to indicate her husband, who was standing on the other side of the room, giving her a dark look. ‘And yet he lingers near the dance floor to watch your every move.’
‘He is probably waiting for me to do something that disappoints him,’ she said, before remembering that it was not polite to sound glum at a party, especially when one was talking with the host.
The Duke laughed. ‘On the contrary, my dear, the fellow is mad with jealousy over all the attention you are getting.’
‘I seriously doubt that, Your Grace.’
‘Come now, Mrs Challenger,’ he said, touching her arm. ‘I stood up at your wedding. Surely that is cause for us to be familiar with each other. You must call me Jacob, as your husband does.’
‘Thank you?’ The response should not have come out as a question, for it made her look even more naïve than she actually was.
But the Duke gave her an encouraging smile in response. ‘Thank you, Jacob.’
She smiled back, instantly relaxed. ‘Thank you, Jacob. And please, call me George.’
‘A masculine name for such a pretty girl,’ he replied. ‘But it shall be as you wish. George, do not be bothered by your husband’s moods. We must give him time to get used to marriage. Though I did not take the time to say so at your wedding, I am glad beyond words that Challenger has found someone who can breathe some life back into him.’
She laughed at the idea. ‘If you think I am likely to bring about a change in his character, I fear you will be disappointed.’ It was all she could do to maintain her own personality in his continued efforts to subdue her spirits.
‘The fact that he married you is change enough for a start,’ the Duke said. ‘He has been far too proper since his return from Belgium.’
‘You speak as if he was ever another way,’ George said in disbelief.
The Duke gave her a surprised look. ‘Very much so. I am surprised you did not know it already.’
‘I know he is very conscious of scandal,’ she said, trying not to reveal such profound ignorance of his character.
‘Because of his family,’ the Duke agreed. ‘If you have not noticed it already, his parents and elder brother are horrible. When we were at Oxford, his method of dealing with them was quite the opposite of what it is now. His intention, as I remember it, was to outdo them all.’
‘Frederick Challenger?’ she said, doubting. ‘Are you sure we speak of the same man?’
The Duke laughed again. ‘How do you think he came to own such a notoriously decadent club? He courted scandal freely, in his youth.’
‘Tell me more,’ she said eagerly. ‘I have seen nothing but propriety from him, since the day we met.’
The Duke nodded. ‘You only know the Frederick Challenger that the army created. He is as disdainful of his family as he ever was, of course. But he thinks he must set a good example for his younger siblings and has got very good at giving and maintaining order.’
‘I am well aware of that,’ George said, with as little animosity as possible.
‘Do not take him too seriously,’ the Duke said, with a gentle smile. ‘The rest of us do not.’
‘I do not let myself be intimidated,’ she said with a surprised smile. ‘But I am unaccustomed to being encouraged in my misbehaviour.’
He laughed, yet again, and stopped, as if surprised by the sound of it. ‘You, my dear, are a breath of fresh air in this stale city. I have not been so amused in ages. It gives me reason to hope that you will blow the cobwebs off my friend as well. There is no reason for him to be as wild as he was. None of us are schoolboys any more. But that does not mean I wish him to be a joyless, hidebound old man.’
‘He is not so bad...’ She stopped herself, unable to defend him with a lie.
‘He is still my friend,’ Jacob assured her. ‘But in recent years, I see no sign that he is enjoying his freedom. He is always at the club, yet he is always alone. We must hope that matrimony suits him better.’
If that was the goal, then they were all doomed. But the discussion raised interesting points. Perhaps she had not been the one who was wrong all this time. Perhaps he had his faults as well. ‘I will do what I can for him,’ she agreed. But the likelihood was that all she could be was a thorn in his side.
‘Excellent. You must not change.’
Another dance was starting and he directed her to a set in need of a female before returning to the side of the room.
* * *
Fred had not thought that there could be such a thing as too much success. He’d maintained a careful watch over Georgiana for most of the evening, waiting for the inevitable disaster that would require a strategic retreat from the ball with a feigned megrim or family emergency.
But none had come. She laughed and chatted and danced nearly every dance, but stood up with no partner more than once. She was the epitome of grace and elegance. If appearance was everything, then he could not ask for a better wife. She was gliding across the room to him, now, offering an affectionate smile that he’d have sworn was sincere. Then she opened her mouth and spoiled it. ‘Are you enjoying the evening, Mr Challenger?’
‘Very much so.’ The words sounded stiff and awkward, even to him.
She opened her fan with a snap and fluttered it in front of her face as if to hide her next words. ‘Then I suggest you make some effort to prove it. People are beginning to remark on your behaviour.’
‘My behav...?’ She had turned away from him before he could even complete the word.
‘Mrs Challenger?’ A young buck he did not recognise was bowing low over his wife’s hand.
‘Lieutenant Williams,’ she replied with a gracious smile.
‘I have come to claim the dance you promised me this afternoon.’
‘Of course.’ Without another look in Fred’s direction, she abandoned him and let the fellow lead her out on to the dance floor.
Who was he and how did she know him? More importantly, when had they been able to speak this afternoon? The young officer was one of many people who were strangers to him, but that his wife had greeted by name this evening. Some even addressed her as Georgiana. Fred was beginning to wonder if he was the only person in London who had not been acquainted with her, this Season.
He had no one to blame but himself. He’d had the chance and refused an introduction. In retrospect, that now seemed as foolish as telling her that he was not fond of dancing and had no intention of doing so tonight.
‘At a ball to celebrate our wedding, you do not intend to dance.’ Her eyes had flashed like a struck flint when he’d told her.
But he had not relented. The way he felt when he looked at her made it far too dangerous to be near her. Even standing beside her on the receiving line, the plans for simple separation seemed to erode like beach sand in a high tide. If they danced, they would end the evening in bed. And tomorrow, his life would no longer be his own. ‘I will not dance,’ he repeated.
The pride and confidence she’d displayed as he’d draped the chain about her neck all but disappeared. The sparks vanished. She was frightened, small, and about to shed a girl’s tears of self-pity.
But only for a moment. She squared her shoulders, tossed her head, and smiled, looking directly into his eyes, ready to meet any challenge. ‘Very well, then. But I do not expect to sit down, all evening. I will have to find other partners.’
He nodded approval and told her to dance as much as she wished. But it had never occurred to him how annoying it might be to see her take the hand of a handsome stranger closer to her age and wearing a uniform that had never seen battle.
‘Your wife seems to be having a good time.’ Jake had come to stand beside him to observe the dancing.
Fred grunted.
‘I would have thought it would be you out there with her. Not tired of marriage after a mere few days, I hope.’
‘You know I am not much of a dancer,’ he said, draining his glass of wine and taking another from the tray of a passing servant.
‘Save the lies for your wife. I have seen you dance happily and often.’
‘Well, I do not feel like doing it tonight,’ he said, in a tone that should have ended the discussion.
‘It has been less than three days since the wedding.’ Jake said, thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you have better things to do with your time.’
‘I was at the club just last night,’ Fred replied. ‘I left early, of course. But once things are a bit more settled, I shall return to my responsibilities.’
Jake let loose with a bark of laughter. ‘By all means, do not neglect the club. Heaven save me from idiots. If that is what has been occupying your mind in the first week of your marriage, then you do not deserve the lovely Georgiana.’
‘You mean... You assumed that...’ What must Jake think of the embarrassing flush that stole into his cheeks at the thought of bedding his wife? Fred was far too experienced to be acting like a bridegroom, but he could not seem to help himself.
‘You are tired,’ Jake said significantly, then glanced at the dancers. ‘But she does not seem to be.’
‘She is young,’ Fred said, gritting his teeth. ‘And I am not so young as I used to be.’ That made her sound insatiable and him incapable. But it was better than having the world think he had not touched her.
At this, Jake laughed all the harder. ‘Then you should be spending more time in your bed. Resting.’
‘Well...’ Fred gave a helpless shrug.
‘That is all right,’ Jake assured him. ‘I do not expect you to tell tales about married life. Georgiana is a wife, not a mistress. I promise, Oliver and I will treat her with the respect she deserves.’ He glanced around the room and said glumly, ‘Now that the dukedom has fallen to me, I suppose I shall be expected to find a bride of my own.’ As usual, he did not sound in any way happy about his title or his future.
‘It is not so bad to be married,’ Fred replied, though he could not help sounding equally glum.
‘Of course, if I had a mind to wed, I would want to pick someone just like Georgiana,’ his friend said, pensively.
‘Why?’ Fred had not meant for the word to be so sudden and so utterly perplexed.
Jake gave him a surprised look. ‘She is a lovely girl. One of the beauties of the Season. From what I have been told, it was a challenge to attract her attention.’
‘A challenge.’ Fred had not thought her such. As he had watched her making the rounds of balls and routs, she had seemed too free with her favours. She had been everywhere, danced with everyone, and was always surrounded by a throng of young men. Even though he’d tried to avoid her, she had always seemed to be underfoot, in his way, or staring daggers at him from across the room.
‘There are a slew of men who have been trying to catch her for the better part of the Season,’ Jake said. ‘She showed not a bit of interest in anyone who offered. Of course, if it was because the two of you had been having secret trysts...’ Jake left the sentence open as if waiting for a confidence to be revealed.
He was tempted to admit the truth. But it would not reflect well on the woman he had married that a good portion of London society had seen her barely dressed and bartering away her virtue. Better to hold his tongue. ‘I am truly fortunate,’ he agreed, feeling more confused than ever.
‘She is exactly what you need.’ Jake looked out at the dance floor, where Georgiana was laughing as she failed miserably at the steps of The Shipwreck’d Boy. It did not really matter how well she danced. Her partner looked thoroughly besotted to be near her. Didn’t he know that she was recently married and supposedly devoted to someone else?
Fred frowned. Many times a neglected wife was seen as an opportunity. He knew from personal experience what flatteries to use that would turn the head of a woman with a mind to stray. How long would it be before his own wife found a favourite?
His stomach churned with a feeling that he’d have called jealousy, if he was the sort of person prone to such an emotion. More likely what he was feeling was a touch of wind from the pickled onions that had accompanied the buffet.
‘I was better off as I was,’ Fred muttered, before he could help himself. ‘I had responsibility enough without adding a wife.’
‘The weight of the world rested on your shoulders, I am sure,’ Jake said in a cool tone to remind him that his current duties as a peer far outstripped any burden that Fred might complain about.
‘I meant nothing by it,’ Fred apologised quickly. ‘It is just that things between Georgiana and myself are...more complicated than I imagined they would be.’
His friend smiled and nodded. ‘That is exactly why you needed her. Lately, you take a simple thing like loving a beautiful woman and turn it into a difficulty. It is a good thing she does not seem so bothered by her marriage to you for, if I am honest, it is not all that pleasant to be around you. You act as though a single misstep will break that stiff neck of yours. I am the one in mourning, yet you smile even less than I do.’
Jake had few reasons to smile. Fred knew that he blamed himself for the accident that had killed both his father and brother, and landed him with an unexpected title. What did it say about Fred that he was a drag on the Duke’s already low spirits? ‘Do not waste time worrying about me,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘You should be enjoying this evening as well. You spend even more time than you used to at Vitium et Virtus. And yet, if you mean to drink until dawn, the least you could do is join the crowd in the common rooms and not hide in the office with a bottle.’
If they had not been such old friends, the discussion might have ended in an argument. Instead, there was a moment of silence that stood as a wordless apology. Then, Fred said, ‘It is good that Oliver has still retained some of the buoyancy of youth. Where is he tonight?’
‘Paris, I think. Trying to steal the entertainments from that French club he keeps talking about.’
‘And while we are here behaving like gentlemen, he has a beautiful courtesan in one hand and a glass of France’s finest brandy in the other,’ Fred finished, unsure whether he felt envy, or relief that the job had fallen to someone else.
‘I wonder, do you have the heart to continue as part of the management? Now that you are married...’
‘I am as committed as I ever was,’ Fred said firmly. ‘We agreed that we would keep the place running, so that it might be here when Nick returns.’
‘Or to honour his memory,’ Jake added, expressing the doubt that they both secretly shared.
‘The club was his idea. He had the greatest stake in the place,’ Fred reminded him. ‘If he is alive, we must see to it that his investment is thriving, when he returns.’
‘And I will burn in hell before I allow Bowles to take over that empty chair,’ Jake said, frowning. ‘He was bothering me about it again last month.’
Fred shook his head. ‘The fellow is a loathsome little toady and I like him no better now than I did at Oxford. But just as important as his lack of character is the fact that he has not a feather to fly with. He was forced to run for the country, one step ahead of his debt collectors.’
Jake smiled. ‘It is no less than he deserved.’
‘Should Bowles return, I have no intention of leaving a second empty chair at Vitium et Virtus for him to aspire to. I assure you, my recent marriage will have no effect on my activities,’ Fred said, feeling more trapped than ever by both the club and the woman.
‘Of course it won’t, my love.’ His wife was standing before him, hands on hips. Fred hoped he was the only one who could hear the irony in her voice as she announced her affection for him. ‘No matter my opinions on the subject, I expect you will be just as firmly attached to Vitium et Virtus as you are now.’
‘If you have opinions on the club, you should refrain from mentioning them in public,’ he said automatically. ‘You should not even know that the place exists.’
‘Then I will pretend that I have not heard people whispering about it, everywhere I go,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief as if he were the one who was naïve.
Then she leaned towards Jake and said in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘Is it true that husbands and wives arrive there together and go off with others as easily as changing partners in a dance?’
‘I would not know,’ Jake said with a wink. ‘I am not married.’
‘I do not think I should like to find out from experience,’ she replied.
The remark surprised him. Did it arise from actual loyalty, or was she merely feigning devotion?
Then she finished, ‘One husband is more than enough for me.’
Before Fred could respond, she smiled at the Duke and asked, ‘Are you also preoccupied with that club, even tonight, Your Grace? The room is full of young ladies, eager to stand up with you.’
In response, Jake turned pink about the ears and his answer had a slight hesitation that almost sounded like nerves. ‘I thought we agreed to be on familiar terms. You need not bother with the formality of a title if we are to be friends.’
‘Jacob, then,’ she said, smiling even more brightly.
When had they agreed on familiarity? As far as Fred knew, they had not known each other at all before the wedding. Despite his desire to see his friend be happy, it made him uneasy to see the easy smiles that passed between them after so limited an acquaintance.
‘Do you mean to hold up the wall with my husband, Jacob? Or do you plan to dance?’
‘We are not the only men in the room,’ Fred said, trying to catch her eye and remind her of the black mourning gloves his friend was wearing, even at his own ball. ‘Surely they can find someone else.’
‘I believe I have danced with nearly every other man in the room,’ she said. ‘Now, it is only manners that I should dance with our host.’ She gave Fred an appraising look and held out a hand to him. ‘Unless you have changed your mind and wish to reclaim me.’
He stared at it for a moment, but made no move. For all the bravery he had shown in battle, why did he hesitate now?
It did not matter. He had waited too long to give his answer and she’d turned back to his friend, holding out her hands. ‘Your Gr... I mean, Jacob, will you dance with me?’
His friend hesitated for a moment, then smiled back. ‘I had not planned to stand up. But a single dance with an honoured guest is not so very shocking. And I know better than to refuse such an opportunity.’
Was this a dig at him? It was too late to tell. The pair was already gone, arm in arm, to take their place in the set for the next dance.
They made a handsome couple and it was clear that dancing did Jake good. His step was light and he chatted easily with Georgiana as they moved down the row of couples. It was just the sort of thing Fred would have hoped for the fellow a week or two ago. Why did it annoy him now? And why was he feeling the same tightening in his guts that could no longer be attributed to indigestion?
Could it really be jealousy? He had known Jake since they were seven. Even at such times as they’d both fancied the same girl, there was never a question that a romantic attachment would supersede their friendship. One would happily step out of the way if the other had a deeper feeling.
But neither of them had been married before. Suppose Jake took a liking to Georgiana? And suppose she favoured him as well? As her stepmother had been so eager to point out, his wife had hated him before they married. He had given her little reason to change her opinion of him since.
Without intending to, he took a step forward, half ready to go out on to the floor, grab her by the hand, and lead her back to his side. How foolish would that have been? He’d be making just the sort of scene he hated from the rest of his family. He drank deeply, wishing the champagne was something strong enough to chase the madness out of his head.
And then, they were back, winded and happy, taking their places on either side of him as if nothing had happened. ‘Your friend is a delightful dancer,’ she said with a smile.
‘As is your wife,’ Jake added, looking truly envious.
‘Not that Frederick would know about such a thing.’ Georgiana gave him another challenging look.
‘Not know?’ Jake was looking at him in surprise. ‘I was under the impression that the two of you had been carrying on a secret romance for some time now. You must have danced together at least once.’
‘It has been quite some while,’ Fred said, wishing they had taken the time to create a believable past between them.
‘And Frederick is far too serious to dance.’ Georgiana was pouting at him.
‘He did not used to be so,’ Jake supplied. ‘I remember a time when he was the first to take the floor and the last to leave it.’
‘I bet he does not even know how to waltz,’ Georgiana taunted, fluttering her fan. ‘I do. I was not supposed to, of course. But I would not let prudery stop me from something so pleasant.’
‘Young ladies should not dance so close with men,’ Fred said automatically. ‘It is not proper.’
‘But I am an old, married lady,’ she reminded him. ‘No one will look twice if I do it now.’
I would.
‘And I have waltzed,’ he added. ‘At the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, before Waterloo.’ When they had got word of Napoleon’s approach, he had jumped into the saddle still wearing his dancing slippers.
The pair of them were staring at him, expectantly.
At last, Jake said, ‘Well?’
The band was striking up a waltz. It would look strange for a supposedly happy couple not to be dancing something that gave them a chance to hold each other in public. Perhaps someone had noticed already. By avoiding her, he was still managing to cause gossip. He wet his lips, suddenly nervous. ‘May I have this dance, my dear?’
Now, she was the one hesitating, making him wonder if she meant to refuse. Then she smiled as mischievously as she had at Jake and curtsied. ‘Of course, my love.’
He offered his hand and led her out on to the floor, pulling her easily into his arms.
Other than the brief kiss on their wedding night, he had not held her so closely since that night in the club. At the thought, his blood rushed and he felt the beginnings of an autonomic reaction totally inappropriate for a grown man in a public place. He schooled his thoughts, counting out the multiplication tables in his head until he could regain control.
‘Do not feel it necessary to make polite conversation with me while we dance. Now that we are married, such banal courtesies are not required.’ She was smiling, but her words stung like thorns in his flesh.
‘Do you normally speak without regard for your partner’s feelings as you dance?’ he asked, leaning closer to whisper softly into her ear as he had at breakfast.
‘Is your sensibility so delicate that you cannot withstand a single comment?’
Strangely, he felt more at ease the longer they argued. ‘I prefer to think of myself as discerning,’ he replied, twirling her. ‘I would not normally dance with a woman who only wished to insult me.’
‘I suspect you would cut her dead before she got the chance to even meet you,’ she replied.
‘And she would never let me forget it, even if I regretted it after.’ Even as he spoke them, the words came as a surprise. How different might their lives have been had he accepted her introduction and danced with her months ago?
‘Is this an apology?’ she said, shocked out of her sarcasm.
‘Now that I have met your stepmother, I think it might have been unfair to blame you for the rudeness on our first meeting, or some of the disturbances I witnessed since.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
The hand he was holding gave his an affectionate squeeze.
‘And now that you have tested it, does my dancing meet with your approval?’ He gave her another quick spin in his arms and gathered her close again.
She responded with a gasp of delight. ‘You are a very good dancer. Perhaps the best partner I’ve ever had.’
‘It is good to know I can get you to follow, in this at least.’ He said it gently, so she might know he was only teasing. ‘And thank you for your opinion of my abilities. From now on, when you are dancing with another, remember this moment and come back to me.’
He’d always had confidence in his powers of seduction. But tonight, he was almost afraid that she would dismiss him as unmemorable. He held his breath, awaiting her response.
She gave him a dazed nod. Instead of her usual look of suspicion or disgust, she was staring at him as if he was the hero some claimed he had been. The music was ending, but the moment was too precious to relinquish. ‘Shall we take a walk on the terrace?’ he said, glancing towards the open French doors.
‘The room is stifling,’ she agreed, though as she said it, she shivered. In anticipation, perhaps?
‘Let us go, then.’ He had thought to say ‘come with me’, but those words sounded too much like a command. If they ended up in the same place, was it really any different if they went side by side rather than one following the other?
She linked her arm in his as if she could not be prouder to have him for an escort and they escaped the room together.
On the other side of the doors, it was a different world. The candlelight gave way to darkness, the music to the sound of nightjars and crickets. The stale smell of too many bodies jammed together in a small space was replaced with the fragrance from pots of night-blooming jasmine decorating the low railing that gave way to the garden.
Georgiana drew closer to him, shivering again, as if asking him to share the warmth of his body. The proper thing to do would be to return to the ballroom for a wrap. But was it really necessary to be proper at all times? The moon was full, the night romantic, and there was a beautiful girl in his arms waiting to be kissed.
He leaned forward, ready to oblige.
She touched a finger to his lips, holding him back. ‘We mustn’t.’
‘Why?’ He touched the finger with his tongue.
‘It is not polite. We are guests of the Duke.’
Nothing personal, then. Just his own rules, coming back to haunt him. ‘He will not mind if he does not know.’ Fred leaned forward again.
‘But if someone sees us. Think of the scandal.’
‘Scandal be damned,’ he said, lunging forward and pressing her close.
She gave one brief squeak of alarm before succumbing to the kiss, meeting his tongue eagerly with her own. ‘Mr Challenger,’ she murmured when he allowed her time to breathe.
‘Mrs Challenger?’ he answered, mocking her formality and cupping one of her breasts with his hand.
By the way she stiffened in surprise, he could tell she had not been touched that way before. ‘No,’ she whispered, but she was laughing as she said it, as if it was not a denial at all.
‘No?’ he asked, releasing her and instead rubbing his knuckles back and forth across the sensitive nipple he could feel pebbling beneath the fabric of her bodice.
‘Well...’ She trapped his hand with her own, pressing it more tightly to her.
‘That’s what I thought you meant,’ he said and pulled her deeper into the shadows of the house. When he was sure they were hidden by the darkness, he dipped his mouth to her neckline, following the edge of the fabric to search for the flesh his hand had excited.
‘No,’ she whispered again, still laughing. But her fingers were tickling the hair at the back of his neck, stroking his nape to reward him for his daring.
‘Just one kiss,’ he whispered back, waiting until he felt the gentle pressure of her hand urging him on. He lowered his head further, his tongue searching for her nipple. When he found it, he felt the flutter of her heart against his cheek and the flutter of her fingers in his hair. Then she pulled one hand away, covering her own mouth to stifle a gasp as he kissed her breast, languid and tantalising, but as he had promised, only once. She took a shuddering breath, like a woman on the edge of climax.
Though he knew he must, he did not want to release her. Until they were home and alone, one kiss was all either of them could withstand. Be damned to his foolish promise of marital celibacy. He would have his wife this very night. He would give her what they both wanted. Once desire was sated, they could discuss the future with minds unclouded by lust.
With a sigh of his own, he raised his head and pulled the neckline of her gown up again. Then he leaned her back in his arms to kiss her lips. When he released her, she sagged against the nearest wall as if ready to swoon. So he caught her again, holding her close and resting his cheek against hers.
From behind them, he heard a low chuckle and a cleared throat.
They broke instantly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to resist touching her again. She made a hurried examination of her garments, hands travelling down her bodice to be sure that everything was in place.
‘I wondered where you two had got to,’ Jake drawled, staring deliberately out into the garden.
Fred felt a moment’s embarrassment before remembering that Jake had caught him doing things far more scandalous than kissing a girl in the moonlight. But it had been years since he had behaved so.
And the woman in question had never mattered before. Georgiana was his wife. It was his job to protect her from scandal, not to lead her into it. He did not want his friends thinking of her as the sort of woman who would entertain the advances of a man like the one he used to be.
Georgiana had turned to examine her reflection carefully in the window, as if searching for any trace of what they had done together. She would find none, he was sure, other than a slight flush on her cheeks. All the same, she muttered something about the need to go to the retiring room and hurried past the Duke, back into the ballroom.
‘I told you she would do you good,’ Jake said, smiling after her.
Fred stared after her, still wondering if that was true.
* * *
Perhaps her husband liked her after all.
For the rest of the evening, George did her best to regain her composure, chatting amiably with the gentlemen who danced with her and sharing gossip with the ladies they escorted. But what she actually wanted to do was to follow Frederick Challenger around the room like a moonstruck girl.
Her head was in the clouds after the waltz. Her body tingled from the kiss on the terrace. The little part of her mind that was capable of coherent thought was focused on what was likely to come, once they got home. After discovery by the Duke, they needed to be discreet for the rest of the evening. That was probably why Frederick was distant but polite to her once he returned to the ballroom.
But once they were home and could be alone, everything would change. He had admitted he was wrong about her, while they’d danced. If he could change his opinion, then so could she. He was still rather stuffy, of course. And too concerned with the opinions of others.
But Jacob had said that Frederick had not always been that way. When he forgot himself, as he had on the terrace, she liked him better. A single goodnight kiss might be all that was necessary to renew his life and change hers. Now that they were finally on the way home, he lounged in the carriage seat opposite hers, his face in shadows.
‘I had a nice evening,’ she said, smiling to let him know that he was part of the reason for her happiness.
‘That is good,’ he said, but made no effort to give his opinion of the ball.
She touched the necklace he had given her, running her fingers down the chain to her bosom. ‘And I like your gift. It is very pretty.’
‘You are very pretty.’ The compliment surprised her, for she’d already begun to fear that he was going to pretend nothing had happened between them.
‘Thank you.’ She spread her fingers across her bodice. ‘Do you like my new gown? It is more daring than I am used to.’
His answer to this was nothing more than low, hoarse breathing. But it was proof that Polly had been right. It was easier than she’d thought to influence a man, even one as proper as Mr Challenger.
She toyed with the necklace again. ‘I had planned to make Polly take it up. But Caroline insisted that it was no different than all the other women were wearing...’
‘Caroline?’ He scrambled to sit upright as if trying to put more distance between them.
‘Viscountess Linholm,’ she said, though it should not have been necessary to remind him of his own sister-in-law.
‘What were you doing with my brother’s wife?’ For a moment, a ray of moonlight struck his face. In the pale, white glow he looked almost angry.
‘Shopping,’ she said. ‘I believe it was what you demanded of me, just this morning.’
‘I never gave you permission to associate with that woman,’ he said, as if the very sound of her name might be poisonous.
‘That woman is a member of your family,’ she said. ‘And my family as well, now that we are married.’
‘I forbid you to see her again,’ he said. She did not need daylight to know that his expression was as stern as it ever had been.
‘Forbid me? If you were a normal man, you’d be encouraging me to visit her.’ More than that, she had thought it would make him happy. Why had she bothered to try?
Now he was leaning towards her, not in love, but in menace. ‘Stay away from Caroline and my brother as well.’
‘Which brother?’ she said, trying to hide her hurt in sarcasm. ‘You have two of them, I believe.’
‘Caroline’s husband,’ he said briefly, as if she were being deliberately obtuse.
‘And what of your sisters? I saw them as well, today. Are they a corrupting influence on me? Or do you fear I shall ruin them?’
‘Judge for yourself,’ he retorted. ‘I doubt my sisters were responsible for the horde of men that were swarming after you all night.’
‘They were not a horde,’ she said. But there had been a great many introductions made at Steven’s. Even though he had no reason to fear, she had been sure her husband would be angry.
But he was not just angry. He was furious beyond all sense. ‘Can I not let you out of the house, even for an afternoon, without you coming home with an immodest gown, trailing half a regiment of admirers?’
‘If you had a problem with my dress, you had but to say so and I’d have changed before we left the house.’ Instead, he had draped her in gold and kissed her.
But he was far past seeing reason, near to shouting in rage. ‘I warned you not to flaunt your indiscretions in front of me. And now, in the first week...’
‘Indiscretions?’ She could not help a surprised laugh. ‘I danced at a ball with men that had been introduced to me by a member of your family. If I was indiscreet with anyone, it was with you.’
‘Do not worry, madam. It will not happen again.’ He rapped his cane on the side of the coach and called out to the driver. ‘Wilson. Stop, immediately.’
They were passing Jermyn Street. If she looked out of the window, she could almost see the black lacquered door of Vitium et Virtus. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said, regretting it immediately. She had nothing to threaten him with other than to announce that it would make her cry. And by the tight feeling at the back of her throat, she was likely to do so no matter what he did.
‘Since you have no care for propriety, why should I?’ he said. Then he opened the door and leapt to the street without the help of a groom, slamming it behind him. As if he had not embarrassed her enough, he shouted to the coachman in a voice loud enough for half the street to hear. ‘Take Mrs Challenger home, Wilson. And see that she stays there.’