Violet carefully opened the wrapping, then stared at the richly colored fabric. “Oh, Miss Laurel! I’ve never had such a gift.” She stroked the silk, tears in her eyes. “It isn’t just the gift, but . . . but that you thought to give it to me.”
“I’m sure you’ll make the material into something truly splendid,” Laurel said.
“Splendid and very, very special,” Violet said softly.
A knock sounded on the connecting door. Violet brushed her eyes with her wrist, then opened the door so Kirkland could enter Laurel’s room.
“Since you said you’d be wearing blue, Laurel, I have a small gift for you.” He stopped in his tracks as Laurel turned to face him. “Oh my,” he breathed. “You are always beautiful, but tonight you’re—stun-ning.”
She blushed. Yes, she liked pleasing him. “You look rather splendid yourself, my lord.”
“Appearing like a fashionable man about town is a useful disguise.” He offered her a small jewelry box, looking surprisingly shy.
She gasped when she opened the box. Inside was an elegant gold cross set with sapphires. It was accompanied by simple hoop earrings set with more sapphires. But even more important than the beauty was that it was a cross. As Violet had said, it was the thought to give such a gift that was most precious of all because, in this case, it was her husband’s recognition that faith was a vital part of her life.
“How beautiful.” She removed the cross from the box. The chain was a complex weave of gold links, and the sapphires flashed blue fire. “Just right with this gown. Violet, please remove my pearls.” The double strand of pearls had been a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday and they were attractive but not particularly interesting. Tonight, she wanted to look interesting.
“I’ll do it.” Kirkland removed the pearls, the warm brush of his fingertips on her nape sending tingles straight to sensitive places.
Swallowing hard, she removed her pearl earrings and inserted the wires of the sapphire hoops. Then she stood very still while Kirkland fastened the cross around her throat. Mustn’t think about the warm fingers heating her blood. . . .
The chain was just the right length, for the cross fell above the neckline of the gown. “Perfect.” She turned to her husband. “You always know the right thing to do.”
“Would that that was true,” he murmured wryly. “Shall we descend? Guests will be arriving soon.”
She took his proffered arm. “Forth into battle, my lord.”
“Not battle,” he protested. “Just a quiet dinner with friends you haven’t met yet.”
“I hope you’re right!” As they left the room, she dismissed Violet for the evening. She guessed the girl would immediately start sketching designs for the silk.
When they stepped from Laurel’s bedroom into the upstairs corridor, a burble of cheerful voices could be heard rising from downstairs.
“It sounds as if several of our guests have already arrived,” Kirkland observed as they headed toward the stairs. “The Ashtons and Randalls would share a carriage since the Randalls stay at Ashton House whenever they’re in London.”
Ashton was a duke, Laurel recalled. “Ashton and Randall are such good friends?”
“They are. Ashton House is huge and when Randall was in the army, he was seldom in London and didn’t need a full-time residence here. Ashton gave him his own suite of rooms for whenever he wants to use them.”
The duke sounded generous. “Even now that both men are married?”
“Their wives, Mariah and Julia, are best friends.” Kirkland smiled down at her. “You’ll get it sorted out soon enough.”
To Laurel, his words underlined the fact that these people knew each other very well and she was an outsider. She raised her chin. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but it was necessary if she was to move between Kirkland’s house and her own. She didn’t have to be best friends with any of these people. Civility would do.
As they approached the top of the steps, Kirkland said, “Now to present my friends with the surprise I promised.”
Laurel stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop also. “You didn’t explain why you invited them?”
“You didn’t want them to form judgments about you, so a surprise introduction seemed best.”
Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “This is one of those rare occasions when I understand the impulse to violence. A little push down the stairs . . .”
He grinned. “I really think this will be better because when they meet you they’ll understand why I fell head over heels for you.”
She rolled her eyes but stepped onto the stairs. “It’s time to test your theory.”
As Laurel and Kirkland descended, he patted her hand where it clasped his arm. For all the tension between them, she still found his touch comforting.
They moved into view of the people churning about the foyer. Four out of five of the couples invited had arrived. They were all good looking and intimidatingly well dressed, London’s beau monde personified.
The chatter stopped and Laurel felt eight sets of curious eyes on her. “Good evening,” Kirkland said, his voice carrying easily to those below. “Thank you for coming tonight to meet my wife, Laurel.”
There was an audible gasp and the gazes intensified. The expressions of several of the men turned to granite, as did the face of one woman, an elegant redhead. The other guests mostly looked surprised.
Laurel and Kirkland reached the bottom of the steps and a strikingly good-looking blond man stepped forward with a smile. He was the one male who didn’t look like granite, so presumably he didn’t know the history. “Congratulations, Kirkland! This was unexpected. Have you just returned from Gretna Green with your lovely lady?” He bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kirkland.”
These were Kirkland’s closest friends and some of them already knew part of the story, so Laurel would jolly well tell them the truth. “The pleasure is mutual, and will become even greater when I know who you are, sir. But we are not newlyweds.” She smiled sweetly. “Kirkland and I have been married eleven years, separated for ten, and only recently have reconciled.”
The blond man was briefly off balance, but he rallied quickly. “It took you a full year to realize Kirkland was impossible to live with? You must be very resilient!” he said with a laugh. “I’m Wyndham, by the way.”
This was the man whose presumed death had indirectly led to Laurel leaving her husband? Wyndham seemed too light in spirit to have been imprisoned for ten years. “I’m so glad to see you whole and well,” she said sincerely. “It’s rather a miracle.”
“Credit for that goes to my amazingly patient wife.” He hooked an arm out and drew the redhead to his side. “Lady Kirkland, meet my wife Cassie. Lady Wyndham.”
The redhead murmured a polite greeting. She didn’t look hostile, exactly, but her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.
Kirkland’s hand came to rest on the small of Laurel’s back with intimate reassurance. “Time to make our way to the drawing room. There’s more space for introductions, not to mention sherry, claret, and other pleasures.”
Relocating and serving drinks gave Laurel a few minutes to collect herself and study the guests. Thank heaven she’d visited Madame Hélier. If she’d been wearing one of her old gowns, she would have felt like a housemaid, and a rather shabby one at that.
Laurel hadn’t much taste for alcohol, but she asked for a small sherry since it gave her something to fidget with. Kirkland brought her a glass. “Time for the introductions.” He began with the Randalls, the reserved blond major and his petite brunette wife, Lady Julia. Lady Julia was the midwife, so Laurel hoped they could talk more later.
Then Kirkland escorted Laurel to a lean, dark man of middle height, mild demeanor, and striking green eyes. “Laurel, you’ve heard me speak of Ashton.”
Kirkland had said the duke was the kind of friend one spoke to when life fell apart, and from Ashton’s expression, it was clear he hadn’t forgotten Kirkla
nd’s pain. For now he was withholding judgment, but Laurel suspected that Ashton would not be easily convinced that Laurel wasn’t the villain of the piece.
Searching her memory, she said, “Besides the years at the Westerfield Academy, you were at Balliol College with Kirkland, weren’t you?”
“Indeed we were.” Ashton studied her face. “You share a strong resemblance with your brother Daniel.”
Hearing her brother’s name was steadying. He had been one of the Westerfield Academy students, after all. She felt less of an outsider. “So we’ve always been told.”
“You must meet my wife.” Ashton beckoned to a petite golden blonde. She joined him, tucking her hand around Ashton’s arm with wifely familiarity. She was strikingly beautiful and Laurel sensed natural warmth, but like her husband, the duchess had her doubts about Kirkland’s wife.
Kirkland said, “This is Mariah, sometimes known as the golden duchess.”
Another golden haired woman who looked exactly like Mariah joined them. “And I’m Sarah, the poor relation,” she said with a smile. “A mere golden countess.”
Identical twins. Laurel’s gaze moved from duchess to countess and back again. “Are the two of you often confused with each other? And when that happens, are you amused or irritated?”
The twins looked at each other and laughed. The duchess said, “It depends on the circumstances. Mostly I’m amused.”
“I don’t mind as long as no one tries to separate me from Rob.” Sarah directed a dazzling smile at the tall, brown haired man at her side.
Her husband’s handsome features seemed severe except when he gazed at his wife and his expression softened. “If anyone tried to separate us, they would fail,” he said. His gaze moved back to Laurel. “I’m Kellington, Lady Kirkland. Though I’ve been Rob Carmichael for so long that I answer better to that. ”
His expression was assessing. Laurel remembered that Carmichael was another of those who knew that Kirkland had a long-estranged wife. She also suspected that he had reasons not to be fond of his title. A difficult father, perhaps.
“Do you prefer Rob, Carmichael, or Kellington?” she asked.
He smiled a little. “All three will do, in that order of preference.”
“Very well, Rob.” Laurel returned her attention to the twins. “I shall do my best to recognize the differences between the duchess and the countess.”
Mariah asked curiously, “Based on less than five minutes of acquaintance, what differences do you see?”
During her years working in Bristol, Laurel had developed good powers of observation, but five minutes wasn’t much. She scrutinized them individually. “I would say that you are more outgoing, duchess,” she said slowly, “and your sister is quieter, but perhaps more confident. Lady Kellington’s face is a little narrower.” She studied the duchess, seeing a subtle, Madonna softness. “Have you recently become a mother?”
The sisters exchanged glances again. Sarah said, “She’s very observant.”
Mariah nodded. “My darling son is not quite four months old.”
“In the future, I’ll do my best to recognize you individually,” Laurel promised, “but I’ll surely make mistakes when I see one of you across a crowded room.”
“As long as you at least try,” Mariah said. “The most annoying people are those who just come up and ask which twin I am.”
Sarah made a face. “Then they look disappointed to learn that it’s just me, not the golden duchess.”
“Tiresome,” Laurel commented. “So sometimes you lie, because why indulge the curiosity of people who are too lazy to make the effort?”
The twins exchanged another glance. “That would be childish,” Sarah said.
“And a duchess is never childish,” Mariah said piously. “She is always a model of saintly decorum.”
Her sister batted her lashes innocently. “As are countesses.”
Their husbands broke into laughter. Rob Carmichael shook his head. “As you’ve probably deduced, Lady Kirkland, put Sarah and Mariah together and they’re more mischief than two kittens in a sack.”
The banter was interrupted by the arrival of the fifth couple, which produced a flurry of greetings. Sir Damian and Lady Kiri Mackenzie. He was a tall, broad fellow with an infectious smile while his tall, dark-haired wife was vividly attractive and had green eyes to match Ashton’s. From the way Lady Kiri greeted Ashton, they were clearly brother and sister. Still more bonds within the group.
Kirkland appeared beside her. “Time for more introductions. Though you had misgivings, you’re doing well, Lady Kirkland.”
“No one has scratched my eyes out yet.” She smiled wryly as her gaze scanned the group. “But the evening is young yet.”
Chapter 27
With Kirkland at one end of the dining room table and Laurel at the other, they couldn’t talk, but he could admire her smooth grace as a hostess. He knew that by nature she was reserved and rather shy, and she’d freely admitted that she was nervous about meeting so many of his friends. But she’d been raised as a lady, and in her Bristol years she’d dealt with people in all manner of different situations, including facing down a slave trader. As a result, she handled the dinner with aplomb.
When they’d finished eating, he gave Laurel a nod to convey that it was time for the ladies to withdraw and leave the gentlemen to their port. Instead, she asked the nearest footman to summon Mrs. Simond. When the cook appeared, looking wary, Laurel said warmly, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a finer meal, Mrs. Simond. My thanks to you and your staff for your exceptional skill.”
As Mrs. Simond beamed, other guests complimented dishes they’d particularly enjoyed. The cook was almost walking on air when she left the dining room.
Why had Kirkland never thought to summon Mrs. Simond to thank her? He considered himself as a fair-minded employer who paid good wages, but Laurel’s public appreciation had a personal dimension that went beyond being a good employer.
Laurel had also had the tables in the main dining room rearranged so that the room felt less like a cricket pitch. She thought of things that he didn’t—and that made life better for all concerned.
After Mrs. Simond retired to her kitchen, Laurel rose. “Ladies, it’s time for us to withdraw so the gentlemen can solve the ills of the nation over the port.”
After the wives left in a froth of bright silks and the men had reseated themselves, Mackenzie said with a grin, “I suspect the ladies’ conversation will be interesting. Females are better at talking about life’s more personal issues.”
“Their conversation will probably be hair raising.” Wyndham’s glance shifted to Kirkland. “You do like your secrets, James.”
“There are secrets, and there are also things one simply doesn’t talk about. I’d planned to tell the world of our marriage when we returned after our long honeymoon.” Kirkland poured a half glass of port, then passed the decanter to Randall on his left. “Then she left and there was no reason to mention that I had a wife.” Several arched brows suggested that his friends weren’t impressed with his explanation, but being friends, they wouldn’t argue the point.
Friends. He scanned the faces of the men around him. He’d known them all for over twenty years. All were intelligent, perceptive, widely experienced, had been tested in some of life’s more searing fires—and all were happily married.
Since that last wasn’t a state he’d achieved, maybe he should toss aside the English gentleman’s stoic code and invite comments. Perhaps he’d get useful guidance. “I expect you’re all keen to gossip about my situation, so feel free to speak up.”
Randall said, a glint of humor in his eyes, “Gentlemen don’t gossip about their friends’ marriages. They analyze situations in a mature and thoughtful fashion.”
Acute as always, Ashton must have sensed that Kirkland was hoping for insight. “Your wife isn’t the kind of woman I would have thought you’d choose, but she’s very lovely. Appealing. Enjoyable to be with.” The duke frow
ned. “There’s much more, but I’m having difficulty defining what makes her unique.”
Even though Laurel had made it clear that a husband was not essential to her life, Kirkland still enjoyed being with her. Unfortunately, he was no expert at defining what made her special, either. “What kind of woman would you have guessed I’d choose?”
“I would have thought someone more like Cassie,” Wyndham said. “A woman who has walked in dark places as you have. Though you can’t have her. She’s mine.”
“I’ve come to think that a man and a woman can be too much alike.” Rob Carmichael poured port and passed the decanter. “I don’t think anyone can predict the right kind of partner. I never would have predicted Sarah for me.” He grinned. “My imagination was nowhere near good enough.”
“You look besotted,” Ashton said with a smile.
“We’re newlyweds so it’s allowed,” Rob retorted. “Though I can’t imagine not being besotted with Sarah. She makes everything better by her mere presence.”
“I think of Sarah and Mariah as the sunshine twins. If one of them walks into a room, it becomes brighter,” Randall agreed. “When my uncle declared I needed a wife to secure the succession and all that nonsense, Mariah did her best to convince me that I must visit Hartley to become better acquainted with her sister.”
“Lucky for me that Mariah’s matchmaking failed,” Rob said fervently. “I can’t imagine why, when Sarah is so irresistible.”
“She is lovely, charming, and amazingly intrepid,” Randall agreed. “But from the moment I met Julia, I hadn’t a shred of interest in any other female. I decided to stop by Hartley, not to call on Sarah and her parents, but as an excuse to see Julia since Hartley was her home, too.”
“Mysterious are the ways of love.” Ashton swirled the ruby red port in his glass as he pondered. “Mariah just looked right to me. She filled a Mariah-shaped hole in my life that I hadn’t even known was there.”
Not Quite a Wife Page 18
