Brigitte began to tuck the flowers into Kate’s hair.
“Superb,” Lord Southmore said. “Now, for the jewels, I recommend—”
“Emeralds,” a sharp voice came from the doorway.
In the mirror, Kate’s gaze flew to the door. Robert entered, a muscle twitching in his jaw. She drew in a breath at his steely expression but lifted her chin and held his gaze.
Southmore bowed. “St. Malin. You are just in time for the gown.”
“So I see,” Robert said through his teeth.
Kate hurried behind the painted screen. She slipped off the wrap. Brigitte helped her step into the gown, then her deft fingers worked at the pins and hooks.
Brigitte smoothed a silk ruffle. “There, my lady,” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes filled with excitement.
Kate stepped out to face the two men.
“Perfect. I was right about the color enhancing your eyes,” Southmore said, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree, St. Malin?”
Robert’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t answer. He opened a velvet box. She expected the diamonds, but he drew from it an exquisite emerald necklace. The deep green stones, set in a bed of diamonds, looked like pretty spring flowers. He tossed the box to the maid and clasped the necklace around Kate’s throat.
His fingers touching the nape of her neck caused her to tremble. She anxiously watched his face in the mirror. Robert looked as if he would prefer to throttle her rather than adorn her with jewels. She bit her lip, determined not to allow him to spoil the evening. “Thank you, St. Malin.” The use of his title, although strange on her tongue, caused his eyes to widen. She saw that she’d penetrated his indifference at least, but it failed to please her. “Another beautiful necklace. I declare you spoil me.” She turned to Southmore. “And my thanks to you, my lord, for your skillful artistry.”
Lord Southmore bowed. “A pleasure.”
She took her gloves and reticule from Brigitte. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”
Robert turned to Southmore. “May I offer you a lift?”
Southmore bowed. “Thank you, St. Malin.”
They were so scrupulously polite with each other it got on Kate’s nerves. But the tension in the coach grew thick enough to cut with a knife, and little was said beyond inanities. Kate sat beside Robert, but he held his body away from her and gazed out the window.
Lord Southmore on the other hand seemed entirely relaxed as he smiled at her. After they descended from the carriage, Kate found herself comparing the two men. Robert’s shoulders were squarer and his was the more powerful build. Southmore was a very tall man and of a slimmer build. Robert had a kind of smoldering intensity he kept under guard. Southmore was cool, he treated life and women lightly, she suspected. She found she did not warm to him as she sensed beneath the charming surface lay a cold heart.
In the ballroom, the orchestra tuned their instruments, and a minuet was announced. When the music began, Robert partnered Kate. Over their heads, sparkling chandeliers hung from a ceiling painted with frolicking cherubs. Robert barely looked at her, performing the steps with cool precision. When the dance ended, Kate made an effort to amuse him, longing for him to smile. She curtsied low and fluttered her fan like a merry lady. “Thank you, my lord. You dance divinely.”
He glowered at her. “Don’t do that Kate.”
Crushed, she widened her eyes. “Do what?”
“Don’t cheapen yourself by acting the flirt.”
She looked at him openmouthed, struggling to understand him. “Many women here act that way.”
“Not you. It doesn’t suit you.”
Robert bowed and he excused himself. She sadly watched him walk toward the gaming room. She obviously had no clue what he wanted, but it didn’t appear to be her.
*
Robert settled himself at a faro table and tried to concentrate on his cards. He had been unkind to Kate again and disliked himself for it. His adult life up to now had been ordered, and he’d avoided confrontation of any sort. Even putting up with friends he didn’t much care for rather than telling them to go to the devil. But now he struggled with see-sawing emotions quite beyond his control, and he had no idea how to come to grips with his new situation. It wouldn’t have killed him to have remained to explain to Kate that he had come to value her naturalness and her honesty. That he didn’t want to see her change. He feared it was inevitable. He just couldn’t bear to witness it.
He rose from the table, excused himself, and returned purposefully to the ballroom. He intended to make amends, or at least apologize for his rudeness. But he paused at the door. Southmore’s head bowed over Kate’s as they danced, and she smiled up at him. Robert turned on his heel and left the ballroom. Ridiculous to think every eye had been on him, but many were, some curious, some compassionate, and it filled him with a blood-thirsty rage. Not directed at Kate, but at his so-called friend Southmore. He suspected the man intended to snatch Kate from under his nose given the chance. The man’s blatant treachery robbed him of breath, when he’d always put such store by his friends.
Chapter Nine
Lord Southmore partnered her twice and asked her for a third, but wary of scandal, she refused.
“You seem sad,” he said coming again to stand beside her. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Goodness, no. Thank you. I’m not at all sad. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” Kate fanned herself violently, knowing she sounded brittle.
She wished Robert would return, for apart from a brief conversation or two, there were few here tonight that she knew. It was Southmore who attended to her every wish, when it should have been Robert, ensuring she had a glass of champagne and engaging her in conversation.
There was little she could do about it, and a part of her admitted she hoped Robert might be driven mad with jealousy.
Through the French windows, Kate spied the mansion’s sculptured grounds. When she commented on how glorious they looked lit by braziers, Southmore invited her for a promenade on the terrace. As another couple walked out with the same intention, she considered it safe to accept. And after all, Robert was nowhere to be seen. He might have been dallying with a mistress somewhere for all she knew. She batted away her unsubstantiated accusation when her stomach roiled.
They strolled out into the cool evening and stood at the ornate balustrade. Kate took deep calming breaths of fragrant night air, the stone cold through her gloved hands. What might the future hold for her when her marriage was such a failure? She’d never been so helpless and almost didn’t recognize herself.
The other couple decided the breeze was too fresh and retreated almost immediately, leaving the terrace deserted. The clear night sky was filled with stars paying homage to a full yellow moon, and a bouquet of lilac and rose scents wafted on the breeze. It would have been perfect if Robert was here instead of Southmore. His face appeared had grown too intense for Kate’s liking. She grew uneasy at such a shift in his demeanor and wondered what had provoked it. Some men responded to unhappiness, and she supposed misery was writ large on her face. She tried to rally and straightened her shoulders, leaning to admire the stone paths and clipped hedges. A fountain tinkled in the distance.
“How perfect the gardens appear bathed in a silvery light,” she said. “So still.”
“Sleeping beauty.” Southmore took a step closer. He took hold of her hand and kissed her gloved fingers. “You are a lovely woman, perhaps you need to be awakened.”
Kate pulled her hand away. “You should not talk to me in that fashion.”
“Why not?” He cocked his head. “Don’t you enjoy being told you’re lovely?”
“Only by my husband.”
“And does he tell you?”
“That’s none of your concern, Lord Southmore.” She stepped away. “The night air is a little cool. I think we should return to the ballroom.”
Lord Southmore restrained her with a hand on her arm. “Stay just a little while.
Please listen to what I have to say.”
Kate bit her lip. “I’d rather you didn’t. Please let me go.”
“I suspect things don’t go well with you and St. Malin,” he said in an urgent undertone, his eyes on her mouth. “If you wish to be properly loved, I beg you to consider me.”
“I would not wait for such a thing if I were you,” Kate said sharply. “And your hand is still on my arm.”
“As you wish.” Lord Southmore removed his hand and shrugged, looking amused. He bowed.
Over his shoulder, Kate saw Robert appear through the doors.
He nodded to Lord Southmore and turned to Kate. “Are you ready to return to the ballroom, my lady?”
“More than ready, my lord.” She walked inside without looking back. Lord Southmore had overstepped the mark, and if Robert wished to plant him a facer, she was quite agreeable.
But when she finally peeked at the two men after a brief word, they’d gone their separate ways. Lord Southmore became engrossed in conversation with a group near the door. And Robert returned to the gaming room. She suffered a stab of disappointment. Robert did not care beyond appearances it seemed.
“What did you say to Lord Southmore, Robert?” she asked when they entered the carriage some hours later.
“Nothing yet. But I won’t have him near you Kate. Be warned. I might tell him that as soon I have an heir, he is at liberty to pursue you if that was your wish. As it seems it is.”
Kate spluttered. “But I didn’t… I don’t!”
“You don’t? That’s not the way it seemed to me.” He sounded indifferent.
It had not been her intention to be seen to be flirting with the man. But if she was honest, she had hoped Robert might be jealous. This was not the effect she’d wanted, however. Was this heir going to materialize like magic? she thought crossly. So, he didn’t mind if she eventually took a lover. Might he then happily continue to visit his mistress? She eyed him bitterly and turned away to the window.
Everything had been wrong from the very beginning. But the more she struggled to right things between them, the deeper into trouble she fell. She had no idea what to do next. It seemed impossible to convince him Southmore meant nothing to her. She could beg him to believe her, but her pleas would fall on deaf ears. Somehow, she would have to show him. She leaned back against the squab. Another awful silence fell and remained as the carriage rocked through the streets. In the dim lights of the lanterns, Robert sat with his arms folded, his expression unreadable. His very demeanor shut her out. She wanted to slip into his arms and have him wrap them around her. But that wish was fast becoming an impossible dream. She made no attempt to speak to him for the rest of the journey.
In the corridor outside her chamber, he barely touched her gloved hand with his lips as he bid her goodnight.
“Robert?”
He turned back to her, his brows arched, looking every inch a marquess. “Yes?”
She put her hand to the emeralds at her throat. “Shouldn’t you return these to the safe?”
“That might be wise.”
“Come in and help me take them off.”
He followed her into her boudoir as she removed her gloves. The room was empty for she’d told her maid not to wait up.
His touch on her neck felt cool and impersonal. He slipped the necklace into his pocket and turned to go. Kate touched his arm. “Won’t you kiss me goodnight?”
He bent his head and touched his lips briefly to hers. She put a hand on his chest, sensing the tension there. He was always annoyed with her and she struggled with the unfairness of it. “Stay a while?”
“I thought you didn’t wish me to make love to you.”
“Not in the salon. Here, in my bedchamber.”
His blue eyes blazed hot with anger. “Perhaps Lord Southmore can oblige. He knows where to find your bedchamber.”
Outraged, Kate slapped his face. The noise seemed to reverberate around the room. In the long silence which followed, they stared at each other, both breathing heavily. “I did not deserve that. I find your behavior disappointing, St. Malin.”
Robert raked a hand through his hair. He gave a crooked grin. “That makes your true feelings clear then, my dear, doesn’t it?”
He turned on his heel and left her, closing the door behind him. The room seemed too quiet with just the ticking of the mantel clock. Kate put her hands on her flaming cheeks. His rebuff hurt as surely as if he’d thrust a knife in her heart.
*
It was just before dawn. The moon cast a ghostly haze over the trees on Hampstead Heath. An owl flew low across the clearing in search of prey.
Robert still felt the sting of that slap as he waited. Something far more serious than physical pain lay behind it. The cool night air did little to dampen his rage. He did not believe Kate openly encouraged Southmore, for he knew what the man was. But he’d be damned if he played second fiddle to Southmore in his wife’s affections. For one moment in the bedchamber as she stared at him, her bosom heaving, he’d considered trying to explain, but it was impossible. Not until he’d dealt with Southmore, and maybe not even then.
He wasn’t perfect. He admitted it, dash it all, but Kate demanded too much!
The sound of a carriage made him turn. Moments later, two men emerged from the shadows. Sir Lionel Nisbet walked toward them, Southmore abreast of him.
Robert and his friend, Lord Percy Spencer, strolled across to greet them.
“It’s damn cold, and it looks like rain. Are you sure you want to go through with this, St. Malin?” Spencer asked in an undertone. “Would it not be better to have a bout at the club?”
“What and have all of London agog as to the reason?” Robert divested himself of his coat and slipped his shirt over his head. He handed them to Spencer. Southmore had this coming. Robert bound his fists with tape. He would have preferred a pistol at forty paces, but he was a better shot than Southmore. And the temptation to run him through with his sword was too strong. If he killed him, he’d be ostracized for years. No, he intended to give the man the licking of his life. Not just for him, but for all the cuckolded husbands in London.
He moved toward Southmore who stood waiting, stripped to the waist and licking his lips nervously, his hands clenched into fists.
Robert bowed. “Southmore.”
“St. Malin.”
The men circled each other.
Robert sized up his opponent. He knew Southmore didn’t pursue the sport as keenly as he did, but the man was light on his feet. Better on a dance floor and in a lady’s bedchamber, perhaps. The thought of him in Kate’s bedchamber made Robert’s lips thin and his eyes narrow. Heat and bloodlust almost made him lose his cool intention. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
Southmore took a wild jab at him which missed when Robert ducked. The action unbalanced Southmore, and he rocked backward. Robert saw his chance. He struck the first blow on Southmore’s jaw with a right uppercut and followed it with a left.
Southmore’s head slammed back. He cursed and staggered, his body already slick with sweat.
Another right hit its mark. At the sharp sting to his knuckles, Robert began to enjoy himself. The silent woods filled with heavy breathing, the pounding of flesh on flesh, and the cries of the men’s friends urging them on.
Chapter Ten
The next day, Kate breakfasted alone, having been informed that Robert was attending to business. She glanced through the cards from those intending to make a morning call, three gentlemen. She supposed she must have met them although their names were unfamiliar. The thought of facing visitors suddenly seemed overwhelming. Most men tried to flirt with her or wished her to take up some cause or other with Robert. Too raw and unhappy to deal with any of them, Kate called for the town carriage to be brought round. She handed the butler the gilt-edged calling cards. “Please inform the gentlemen I’m not at home, Hove. I wish to visit Lord and Lady Charlesworth. I’m not sure where they reside.”
“I beli
eve they have a house in Portman Square, my lady,” Hove said. “Won’t take John but a moment to drive you there.”
Dispirited, Kate watched the trees and houses pass by as the landau negotiated the London streets. She hoped she’d chosen the right course. It was an enormous risk, but there seemed no other possible action to take. She’d dined alone the previous evening, their plans to attend a soiree, abandoned after Robert failed to come home. She’d lain awake wondering if she should have given in to him in the salon, or at least handled things better. When he’d begun to make love to her, the fact that he’d left her to visit a mistress the previous night gnawed at her. In the end, she felt more like pummeling his chest and berating him than making love to him.
She sighed. Robert desired her, but at the same time he kept a wall between them. What had happened to him to make him act this way? Or was she being naive? Did all lords behave in this manner? Trouble was, she had no experience to draw on, and no one she might ask for advice.
The coachman stopped the carriage outside an impressive, four-story house in a square of newish townhouses. They faced a garden square contained by a black iron fence. Within the square, a well-dressed lady sat on a bench watching her two children play with a ball on the grass. Kate wanted a life like that woman’s. An ordered life filled with love.
Assisted down from the carriage, she stepped up to the door still fearing she’d been rash. Well, it was too late now. She smoothed the skirts of her squirrel-colored redingote. Brigitte had assured Kate she was properly dressed. But Kate wasn’t so sure of Brigitte as the maid tended to be temperamental.
The butler answered her knock at the set of black doors. She offered him her card. “Please inform Lady Charlesworth I’m here to see her.” It was the wrong time for a morning call, but if Kate waited for another day, she might lose her nerve. She could only hope the lady would agree to see her.
He escorted her to an antechamber and gestured to a chair. “Please wait, Lady St. Malin.”
The Marquess Meets His Match Page 10
