by Darcy Burke
However, she could not undergo a renaissance in the corner.
“Sabrina?” Evie prompted, reminding Sabrina she’d asked a question.
“Aldington was not at home.”
“How disappointing,” Evie murmured. “How have things been progressing?”
Sabrina pivoted toward her friend and kept her voice soft. “They have not. I have done what you, ah, recommended—for myself. And that has been most pleasant.” Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t help but avert her gaze.
“Excellent. Nothing from the earl, however?”
“Not as of yet.”
“Don’t be discouraged. We’ve only just begun. I do wish he was here tonight.” Evie looked about the drawing room. “You must come visit me tomorrow so we can strategize.”
“I would like that very much, thank you.” Sabrina had no idea what to do next. The concept of seduction wasn’t just foreign, it was wholly intimidating.
Two young women came toward them. Sabrina knew one—it was her sister-in-law, Cassandra, who was marvelously gowned in peach silk—but did not recognize the other.
“Sabrina!” Cassandra greeted her. Of all the people in her husband’s family, his younger sister was by far the loveliest. She was also the only one Sabrina felt truly comfortable with. Although after her meeting with Lucien the other day, she’d changed her opinion of him.
Sabrina clasped her sister-in-law’s hands. “Good evening, Cassandra. You look magnificent. How is your Season? You must have a trail of suitors following you about.”
Cassandra laughed without humor. “Actually, no. I am beginning to think my father is just too fearsome. Allow me to introduce my new companion, Miss Prudence Lancaster. Pru is the best sort, and I am so fortunate her previous employer married quickly so that she could become my companion instead.” She glanced toward her companion. “Pru, allow me to present Lady Aldington.”
Golden-haired and pale-eyed, Miss Lancaster had a slightly ethereal quality to her. Her slender frame and alabaster complexion likely contributed to that. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.” Miss Lancaster made an elegant curtsey.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lancaster. I am so glad Cassandra has a companion of a similar age. She is hopelessly trapped with men in her family.”
“I was until you came along,” Cassandra said. “Though I’d hoped you would spend more time in London.” She uttered the last with a wistful tone that carried no admonition. Still, Sabrina felt a pang of guilt. Cassandra had been ecstatic when her brother had wed, especially to someone so close to her in age. Sabrina was only a year older.
“I’m sorry,” Sabrina murmured, looking into Cassandra’s sherry-colored eyes. While Cassandra shared the same gender as Sabrina, that was about all they shared in common. Cassandra possessed a confidence and magnetism, like her brother Lucien, that had initially intimidated Sabrina. “I’m going to be more involved in this Season, so you must tell me how I can help you with your debut. Is your aunt still sponsoring you?”
“For what it’s worth.” Cassandra snorted softly. “You know how she is.”
Yes, Sabrina did know. Flighty and unreliable.
“Perhaps I should take over as your sponsor,” Sabrina mused aloud, surprising herself. She never would have had the thought before, let alone voiced it.
Cassandra’s eyes lit. “That would be wonderful! If my father would allow it.” She pressed her lips together and glanced toward Prudence, who only lifted a shoulder in response.
“I bet he can be persuaded,” Evie said. “Speak with your brothers and gain their support.”
Sabrina warmed to this idea. “Yes, we’ll get Aldington to champion this cause, and the duke will have no quarrel with it. He grants Aldington everything.”
Cassandra’s brow arched. “You think so?”
Didn’t he? It seemed that way to Sabrina. Aldington was the favorite son while Lucien was a dissolute scoundrel and Cassandra was somewhat ignored. That twinge of guilt intensified.
“Perhaps my perspective is not a very good one,” Sabrina admitted.
“You aren’t entirely wrong—Father will listen to Con more than he’ll pay any heed to me or Lu.”
“Then I will speak with Aldington about this as soon as possible,” Sabrina said, even as she wondered what her husband would say—both about her initiative as well as acting as his sister’s chaperone. She was certainly above reproach and would be far more engaged than their aunt.
Evie’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she glanced toward Sabrina. “What an excellent solution for everyone.” Evidently, she thought this might help Sabrina’s cause with Aldington—or so it seemed. Sabrina would find out for sure when she spoke with Evie in a more private setting tomorrow.
Sabrina smiled at Miss Lancaster. “Have you been with Cassandra long?”
“Just a few days.”
“She was previously companion to Miss Wingate—Overton’s ward. But they are now on their way to Gretna Green. If I didn’t adore Fiona so much, the romanticism of it would make me nauseated with envy.” Cassandra let out an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, I’m envious anyway. They are so very much in love.”
Sabrina felt a flash of envy too. She’d had no expectations for her marriage but was coming to realize that perhaps she had nurtured a bit of hope for…something.
“They are also the most popular piece of gossip,” Evie noted. “Some find their pairing scandalous, but since his grandmother has not only given her blessing but taken credit for the match, they are keeping their opinions quiet.”
Cassandra’s gaze darkened. “Still, you hear about them. Some people should mind their own business. Or better yet, go away. They won’t be missed.”
“Why the angry face, sister?” Lucien approached them, and he was not alone. Two gentlemen accompanied him, but Sabrina wasn’t sure she’d met either of them.
“Just grumbling about busybodies. Good evening, Lu.” Turning from her brother, Cassandra dipped a brief curtsey to the black-haired rogue—yes, rogue was the best description for his dashing good looks with piercing blue eyes and a slightly crooked nose—and then to the attractive almond-skinned gentleman with a captivating coffee-colored gaze flecked with gold. “Lord Wexford, Mr. MacNair.”
“Good evening, Lady Cassandra.” The rogue’s Irish brogue lilted over them like a warm wool blanket. He bowed toward Sabrina. “You must be Lady Aldington. It is my distinct honor to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
It was hard not to feel flattered by his charming language and the utterly beguiling twinkle in his eye. She curtsied. “Good evening, Lord Wexford. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Sabrina, allow me to also present Mr. Dougal MacNair. His father is the Earl of Stirling.”
MacNair bowed just as elegantly as Wexford, but he made the addition of taking her hand. “Your beauty far exceeds your reputation, my lady. Lucien’s brother is a fortunate man.” He flashed a smile so bright and infectious that Sabrina couldn’t help but smile in return.
“You are too kind, Mr. MacNair,” she murmured as he released her hand.
Cassandra turned to her brother, touching his sleeve. “Lu, you and Con—mostly Con—are going to persuade Father that Sabrina should take over duties as my sponsor.”
“Entirely Con,” Lucien clarified benignly. “After my success in persuading him to hire Miss Lancaster, I’d best not push my luck. This is a brilliant idea and I wholly endorse it.” He looked to Sabrina. “Are you up to the challenge?”
“Of course she is,” Evie answered with a quick certainty. “She’s more than capable of chaperoning the Season’s brightest jewel.” Which would put Sabrina in the center of attention. While she knew this was at least part of her goal, it now seemed terrifying.
Have confidence, Sabrina.
Lucien smiled at her with enough confidence for himself and Sabrina. “Yes, she is.” His gaze moved over Sabrina’s head toward the doorway. “If it isn’t my brother.”
Sabrina whipped around and silently cursed herself for reacting so quickly. Her heartbeat kicked up, and her insides seemed to float.
Dressed in dark, somber evening wear, Aldington was even more handsome than she’d thought him to be. His tawny hair caressed his forehead as his gaze riveted on her. Though he stood several feet away, she felt his perusal and caught the subtle widening of his eyes. Had she caused offense?
Her anticipation took an anxious turn as he strode toward them. She offered him a tremulous smile as she silently cursed her sudden agitation.
“Good evening,” he said as he arrived at their group. He took a position between Sabrina and MacNair. His gaze kept lingering on Sabrina.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cassandra said. “I was just telling Lu that I need you both—primarily you—to convince Father that Sabrina should take over as my sponsor. It’s already decided so we just need you to ensure Father approves the change.”
Sabrina marveled at the way she spoke to her brother. She didn’t ask, she asserted. Isn’t that what Sabrina had done with Aldington when she’d arrived in London? She’d laid out her expectations quite plainly. For all the good it had done her.
“I see. I’m just to do your bidding then?” Aldington asked evenly. Sabrina couldn’t tell what he thought of the plan.
“Yes, please.” Cassandra flashed him a smile.
Aldington shook his head. “Fine. If you care about my opinion, it is a very good idea.” He glanced toward Sabrina with a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
“I care,” Sabrina whispered, though she didn’t think he’d been addressing her. “Thank you.”
Surprise replaced the curiosity, and he quickly averted his eyes from hers.
“Cass, let me take you for a spin around the room,” Lucien offered. He looked to his brother. “You should take the countess around. There are likely plenty of people who’d like to speak with her since she’s just arrived in town.”
Looking at Aldington askance, Sabrina caught the brief scowl he sent Lucien. Why was he upset? Was she really that distasteful to him? She glanced down at her new gown and briefly touched the sapphire necklace adorning her throat. This was by far the most sophisticated she’d ever looked. If she couldn’t entice him tonight, she doubted she ever could. But then, perhaps her appearance had nothing to do with his disdain.
She was about to open her mouth and say she was going to the retiring room, but he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
He was only doing this because to refuse would have been humiliating for both of them. Sabrina put her hand on his sleeve with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
They started a circuit of the room, but he quickly led her into a corner. “My apologies, but I need a word with you before we’re swept up with other people and mindless conversations.” His gaze raked her, provoking a heat she wished she didn’t feel. Now that her body knew how to respond, she felt that heat most profoundly in her sex.
“Why are you like this?” He licked his lower lip, and the simple act intensified the abrupt need within her.
“Like what?”
“Dressed like this, here at this rout, agreeing to be Cassandra’s sponsor.” His gaze met hers. “Who are you?”
Chapter 7
As soon as the asinine question left his mouth, Constantine wished he could swallow it back. “I know who you are,” he said lamely.
She’d stiffened and currently showed no signs of relaxing. “I should hope so.”
“Still, you’re different.” He couldn’t get over the cut of her gown and how the slope of pale flesh above the bodice made him want to rip the garment from her. “You look beautiful.” He realized that sounded bad, as if she wasn’t always the most gorgeous woman in the room. “But then you always do,” he added softly.
“Thank you.” She sounded…surprised? “I still don’t understand. You say I’m different and seemed to indicate that was because I’m beautiful, but then said I always am, so how can that be different?”
When she put his words like that—with logic—he sounded like an absolute blockhead. “You’re acting differently. You’re more outgoing, dare I say assertive. I’m not used to that at all. You’ve always been shy. I was surprised when I arrived home tonight and learned you were here. I am shocked you weren’t cowering in a corner.” He inwardly winced at the word cowering even though it was accurate.
She drew a breath, which made him look toward her chest, something he didn’t really need any prompting to do. “I’m not going to do that anymore. Does that bother you?”
“Er, no. But it will take some getting used to. Are you certain you wish to be Cassandra’s sponsor? She likes to attend events and is very social.”
“Yes, I think it’s my duty, actually.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. “That’s quite admirable of you. I appreciate your support of my sister. If you can manage to see her wed by the end of the Season—the sooner, the better—my father would be delighted.”
“If I manage to facilitate a match of any kind, my hope is that it will delight Cassandra.” There was an edge to her tone that made Constantine nervous. He still didn’t recognize this woman. Yes, she was going to take a great deal of getting used to.
“Are you sure this”—she gestured down towards her gown as if it were the crux of his concern—“won’t be a problem for you?”
“How you dress is no problem, provided you aren’t showing too much flesh.” His gaze once again strayed to the creamy skin above her bodice, and he remembered the amount of her back that was exposed. He’d glimpsed her from behind as soon as he entered, his attention drawn to the stunningly gowned woman before he realized he was ogling his wife. And now, when he thought of her shoulders, her neck, the tempting view of her upper back that was available to anyone who cared to look, he felt a sudden and staggering burst of possession.
Her brow knitted, her delicate, honey-gold brows pitching toward one another. “I wasn’t just speaking of my attire, although it seems you are troubled by this gown.”
Troubled was not the right word at all. He was bloody aroused.
“It is not what you typically wear. But then you are not at all the woman I thought I had married.”
“How would you really know? It’s not as if you’ve spent a great deal of time with me. The woman you see tonight is the woman I am. I suggest you reconcile yourself to that fact. Please excuse me.” She brushed past him, her skirts swinging against his calf as she walked back toward the group they’d left. Only now, it was just the ladies—Cassandra, her companion, and Mrs. Renshaw.
Constantine stared for a long moment, realizing he’d offended her but not certain of exactly how. He hadn’t spoken ill of her. He’d only told the truth—she wasn’t the woman he thought he’d married.
But she had also spoken the truth: he hadn’t spent much time with her and perhaps his idea of who she was and who she actually was were not the same thing. His head began to ache.
“That didn’t seem to go very well.”
Constantine turned at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Where did you come from?”
“I’m everywhere,” he said with a grin. “Isn’t that what you used to say when we were at Oxford?”
“Because you were everywhere. And you still are.”
“I am not at Westminster,” Lucien said with a note of pride.
“You could be.”
“I’ll leave that to you. I am far too busy with my club and, as you said, being everywhere. But let us return to the matter at hand: your wife. What did you say to upset her?”
“She’s not upset.”
“Then why did she abandon you before your promenade?”
Constantine let out a pent-up, irritated breath. “You are a meddlesome troll.”
“What a colorful insult. I quite like it, thank you. I thought I was helping you—that requires meddling.”
“That doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” Constantine looked toward his wife. She laughed
at something Mrs. Renshaw said, her pink lips parting to reveal her even white teeth. Joy made her even more lovely. “Just look at her,” he murmured.
“I am. But mostly I’m watching you watch her.”
Constantine snapped his attention to Lucien. “She’s different, and she’s trying to be. I don’t understand why.” He thought again of what she’d said—that he didn’t know her.
“Perhaps she was lonely before.”
After stealing another look at her, he glanced back to Lucien. “Have you spoken to her?”
“That would be odd, wouldn’t it?” Lucien surveyed her. “She looks lovely this evening.”
“Very.”
“Have you made a decision about my suggestion?”
Mrs. Renshaw and the countess linked arms, then started to mingle with the other guests. Constantine watched in shock as his wife chatted with people. “She always stood or sat in the corner before.”
“Wouldn’t you rather she be anywhere else?” Lucien mused, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
Constantine didn’t bother answering. He was too focused on her. And on the two gentlemen who were currently standing too close to her and allowing their gazes to linger too long on her bodice.
“Con, are you ready to meet with a tutor? I have just the person in mind to help you.”
“No.” He didn’t divert his attention from his wife. A discomfiting realization washed over him. In addition to her being a completely different person, she’d adopted some sort of air. It wasn’t just confidence. Whatever it was, Constantine felt intimidated. After working up the courage to visit her chamber last night, he’d heard her again, pleasuring herself—to great effect. She clearly knew what she was doing, and how in the hell had that happened? He’d wager Hampton Lodge that she hadn’t known how to do that before.
Before what exactly? What had happened to prompt all this? He wanted to ask. He needed to ask. But as she’d so painfully pointed out, they did not discuss such personal things. They discussed almost nothing. To question her about this would open up a closeness—an intimacy—that would change the dynamics of their relationship forever.
