My Fair Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  She never smiled here at home—not at him, anyway. He missed that, her glorious smile, and the pretty little twinkle that shone in her eyes when something struck her as funny.

  It was not only the smile and the twinkle, he thought.

  I miss her.

  Ironic that marriage had driven them apart. The rift between them seemed to grow wider by the day, but for the life of him, he did not know how to overcome it.

  With a heavy sigh, he reached for the stack of financial inquiries on the corner of his desk. Needing something, anything, to take his mind off Julianna, he forced himself to read.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  LORD AND LADY Pendragon.”

  As the butler’s announcement rang out across the ballroom, the eyes of every person present shifted their way.

  For a long moment, Julianna and Rafe stood poised at the entrance to Lord and Lady Chipford’s grand ballroom. With one hand resting atop Rafe’s elegantly tailored black sleeve, she was careful to keep her mask of regal indifference from slipping, her insides a battlefield of nerves.

  They had arrived late, thus avoiding the strain of standing for an eternity in the reception line. Julianna had deemed it the best strategy for making an easy entrance into Society—or at least as easy as could be managed under the circumstances.

  Tonight would be their test.

  Prinny may have granted Rafe a title, which only yesterday the House of Lords had grudgingly confirmed, but neither of those acts could make the Ton accept him. Or her, for that matter, since she was his wife.

  But as Rafe moved the pair of them forward, he did so with an easy confidence that belied his newly minted status as baron. Looking every inch the nobleman, his demeanor was such that any casual observer might have assumed he attended such gatherings all the time, when tonight was actually his first.

  Their host and hostess moved through the crowd to greet them. Luckily the entertainment was a small one by Ton standards, with scarcely a hundred guests in attendance. With it being early December, Society’s numbers remained thin, only die-hard parliamentarians and devoted city-dwellers still in residence within London’s borders, all the rest having long ago departed for the country.

  Yet no matter the time of year, people always loved a party, especially one that could boast of having as guests the source of this year’s most scintillating on-dit.

  Will they succeed or fail? That was the question buzzing on everyone’s breath. Julianna wished she knew the answer, not yet certain how the evening would unfold despite all her earlier optimism.

  “Welcome, my lord and my lady,” Lady Chipford said, a determinedly cheerful smile on her face.

  Julianna had met her many times before and knew instinctively that Maude Chipford had not suggested the invitation. Her husband must have twisted her arm to gain her compliance. Chipford had aspirations at Court and with the prime minister as well. Obviously, he wished to support their newest selection to the peerage.

  Both Chipfords were quite pleasant, particularly so when the Duke of Wyvern sauntered up and gave Julianna and Rafe an exuberant greeting.

  “Glad to see you arrived,” Wyvern said, a slight gleam in his vivid blue eyes. “I was beginning to think you had decided not to come.”

  “No,” Rafe drawled. “We merely had a late start. Julianna could not decide whether to wear the sapphire satin or the gold.”

  What a whopper! she thought, realizing Rafe might be far better at Ton games than she had imagined.

  “Well, I, for one, am glad of her choice.” The duke reached out and took Julianna’s hand, bowing over it. “May I say you look radiant in gold, Lady Pendragon. You made a very wise choice.”

  In a gesture that appeared both tender and possessive, Rafe covered her right hand where it still rested on his sleeve. “I’ll remind you she is already taken, Tony, and suggest you look elsewhere. I am sure there must be a few eligible ladies here this evening who would value such attentions, even yours,” he finished, softening his words with a smile.

  Lord and Lady Chipford’s eyes widened as they waited for the duke’s response, plainly unaware of his close friendship with Rafe.

  Wyvern tossed back his head and laughed. “I daresay you are right. But haven’t you heard it isn’t fashionable to dote on your wife in public?”

  “Perhaps, but when have I ever cared about such things, particularly not when it comes to my own dear Julianna.”

  Turning his head, he gazed down upon her, his eyes filled with intensity and warmth. Catching the look, Julianna’s pulse gave a wild leap, and for an instant, she lost herself inside his eyes. If she hadn’t known better, she would have believed the expression sincere, believed he truly did care for her and that she really was his “own dear Julianna.”

  But then he looked away and the moment was gone, fading along with her weakness and her gullibility, her heart slowing as it returned to its normal rhythm. He is playing a part for the crowd, she reminded herself. After all, it wouldn’t do for anyone to realize the truth about their marriage.

  Apparently Lady Chipford believed the fairy tale Rafe was weaving, a soft, indulgent smile curving her thin lips. “I forget the two of you are still newlyweds. How very charming you are together!” Reaching out, she tapped her fan playfully against Rafe’s arm. “Still, my lord, I simply cannot allow you to monopolize your bride for the whole of the evening. You shall have to let her be whisked away for a few minutes here and there.”

  Rafe returned his hostess’s smile with a smooth one of his own. “Maybe a few, here and there, your ladyship.”

  Lady Chipford laughed, the sound as light as a girl’s.

  Not here ten minutes, Julianna thought, and Rafe has already gained a conquest. Perhaps his acceptance in Society won’t be so difficult after all.

  “Yes, Pendragon,” Lord Chipford said, further confirming her supposition. “You must join me in the library for a brandy and some talk about the economy. Once you’ve had your dance, of course.”

  Rafe inclined his head. “Of course.”

  “Of course what?” the Marquis of Vessey asked as he joined their group. Bowing, he offered polite greetings all around.

  “Pendragon has agreed to join Chipford for a brandy and talk of the economy,” Wyvern explained. “I’m sure there’ll be many fellows interested in your perspective, Rafe, myself included.”

  “Well, I, for one, prefer to remain out here with the ladies,” Vessey declared. “In fact, if you are not otherwise engaged, I would be most happy to stand up with both of you ladies, though not at the same time, you understand,” he finished, giving a humorous wink.

  Lady Chipford laughed. “Thank you, my lord, but I am afraid I do not dance. Lady Pendragon might welcome the offer, though, so long as her husband has no objection. He is most possessive, you know.”

  The marquis raised a golden eyebrow. “Is he? I am glad to hear it. Lady Pendragon, would you care to take a turn this evening?”

  “Yes, my lord, that would be most pleasant, and I am sure my husband can have no objection.”

  “Not at all,” Rafe agreed, “so long as it’s only one dance.”

  “In that case, I shall take this opportunity to request a dance as well,” the duke stated, his deep blue gaze alive with friendly good humor. “Lady Pendragon, what do you say?”

  She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Thank you as well, Your Grace. I would be delighted.”

  Another couple soon joined their group, offering congratulations to Rafe on his ascension to the peerage and best wishes to Julianna on her and Rafe’s marriage.

  Without entirely realizing it, the two of them began to mingle, conversing with a variety of ladies and gentleman, all of whom seemed more than willing to chat. Some were merely curiosity seekers, hoping to collect a few tidbits of gossip to pass around come the morrow. Several others were friends and acquaintances of Julianna’s who wished to meet her new husband. There was a small number who refused to come near at all, their disa
pproval of Rafe clear. Despite their snobbery, however, none of them were willing to give him the cut directly.

  And all the while, as she and Rafe moved slowly around the room, Rafe kept her hand tucked securely beneath his own. To all the world, one would imagine them to be a devoted couple.

  Nearly an hour passed before the music began, signaling the start of the dancing. Rafe led her forward to take their places for a contra dance, where the men lined up on one side of the room and the ladies on the other. Facing one another, each couple would come together, then move apart again as prescribed by the dance, gracefully threading their way in and out of the line.

  For an instant, as she and Rafe stood among the fifteen other couples waiting for the music to begin, a nervous tingle ran over her skin. She and Rafe had never danced before. What if they made a poor showing?

  But seconds later, he proved her worries to be groundless. Not only did he know the steps, he executed them with fluid skill, as confident and commanding on the dance floor as he was in everything he did.

  Knowing they were being observed, Julianna took care to keep a smile on her lips, conversing quietly with Rafe whenever the dance brought them near. They spoke of nothing significant, simple pleasantries that could have been shared by anyone.

  Toward the end of the set, she ran out of conversation and so did he. Moving to the elegant music, she let herself take what pleasure there was to be had, enjoying the necessity of touching Rafe, even if it was through the barrier of gloves. Coming together then apart again, she savored the way their bodies came so tantalizingly close before being drawn away once more.

  And then the dance was through.

  Swallowing down an admittedly foolish sense of disappointment, she allowed Rafe to escort her off the floor.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he inquired, bending his head downward so they would not be overheard.

  “Yes, I am quite well.”

  “If you should discover yourself otherwise, you have only to say and we will leave.”

  She was about to express her thanks when they were interrupted by another couple.

  Five minutes later, Rafe departed for the library and its promise of brandy and economic talk, leaving Julianna alone. Deciding she ought to sit for a few minutes to conserve her energy, she found a comfortable chair, rather glad for a moment of quiet. But her moment did not last long as a familiar gentleman approached.

  Tipping back her head, she met Lord Summersfield’s affable gaze.

  “How do you do, Lady Pendragon?”

  “Very well, thank you, my lord.” She paused for a moment, casting a quick glance across the room to see if Rafe had returned. He had not.

  But why am I worried? she asked herself.

  Rafe might play a good game of appearing madly in love with her, but she knew it was all an act. Besides, she liked Lord Summersfield and they were at a party in full view of Society.

  She gave him a smile. “Please, will you not have a seat?”

  A little over an hour later, Rafe strode back into the ballroom. With hunger tugging at his belly, he wondered if Julianna might be in a similar condition, eager to join the couples who were beginning to wander into the Chipfords’ dining room. On his way from the library, he’d stopped to take a quick peek at the supper buffet, the foodstuffs as plentiful as they were sumptuous-looking.

  Of course, considering the late hour, Julianna might very well be tired. Perhaps rather than indulging in a meal, she would prefer to call for their carriage and make their way home. Fully prepared to do whichever activity she preferred, Rafe cast his gaze around the room.

  At first, he didn’t see her. But on a second pass, he not only saw her but saw her companion as well. His eyebrows shot up, then crashed down again before knitting into a scowl.

  She was dancing, and from all appearances seemed neither famished nor weary. Of course, he might not have minded so much but for the identity of her companion.

  Blasted Summersfield, Rafe cursed. The man should get his damned hands off my wife!

  Allowing Julianna to dance with Ethan or Tony was bad enough, since both men were well-known rakes who could charm a woman with nothing more than a look. But despite their reputations, Rafe knew he could trust both of them implicitly; Julianna was as safe with either of them as she was with her own brother.

  But Summersfield was an entirely different story altogether.

  Does the man care nothing for the fact that Julianna is married? Then again, for some men, marriage only increased a lady’s allure. In the Ton, as Rafe well knew, the majority of couples married for wealth or social position. To their way of thinking, love and passion were to be indulged in later, emotions to be discovered outside the sanctity of the marriage vows.

  Despite her earlier refusals to wed Summersfield, it was plain she enjoyed the man’s company. Could she be forming a serious attraction to him, a bond that might one day turn to love? A sick lump formed in Rafe’s stomach at the thought.

  Grinding his teeth together, he watched Russell Summersfield whirl Julianna across the ballroom floor, the dulcet strains of a waltz floating like honey drops in the air. With a smile on her rosy lips, Julianna seemed to be having a grand time, her gown of guinea gold satin a perfect foil for her dark, silky hair and luminous brown eyes.

  Although a good eight inches separated her body from the earl’s, the space between them was far too close in Rafe’s estimation. A foot would be more acceptable, he thought. Or better still, the entire length of the ballroom.

  Fingers curling into fists at his sides, he strode forward. He didn’t care how it might appear; he was going to cut in. But after only five steps, the musicians played a final flourish of notes, then brought the dance to an end.

  Rafe kept walking.

  By the time he reached the pair, Summersfield had Julianna’s hand settled atop his arm. “Shall we make our way to the dining room to enjoy a bite of supper?” the earl inquired.

  Julianna nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.”

  “Why indeed, thank you, Summersfield,” Rafe declared, maneuvering himself so that he blocked their path. “But that will not be necessary. I shall see to my wife.”

  Surprise lighted Julianna’s features. “Rafe, I did not know you were returned.”

  “No, I am sure you did not. But seeing that I am, I shall take you in to supper.”

  Summersfield raised a brow. “Actually, that privilege should fall to me. By tradition, the man sharing the supper dance with a lady has the right to escort her in to the meal.”

  Arrogant ass! Rafe thought. Does he think I don’t know that?

  “And you,” Rafe said, uncaring what Summersfield or anyone else might think, “have the right to release her and keep your teeth in your head.”

  Julianna gasped, then did so again when Rafe reached out and grasped her hand, transferring it with deliberate firmness to his own sleeve.

  Holding her hand beneath his, he pinned the earl with a look. “One more thing. I would take it as a personal favor if you stopped chatting up Lady Pendragon in public places. I don’t much care for you taking her for tea, either, so do not do it again.”

  Julianna’s eyes widened, plainly appalled by his rude behavior. “Rafe!”

  Ignoring her, he fixed his gaze on his rival. “Do I make myself clear?”

  The earl returned his gaze. “Yes, perfectly.”

  Shifting on his heel, Summersfield turned toward Julianna and executed a bow. “My lady, a pleasure as always.”

  Then he was gone.

  For a long moment, neither of them said a word.

  “Julianna—”

  “Don’t,” she hissed in a low tone. “Do not even speak to me.” As he watched, she fixed a smile on her face. “Now take me in to supper.”

  “We can go home if you would prefer.”

  “I would prefer leaving, but you’ve made that option an impossibility. If we are to salvage the situation and put to rest what is otherwise s
ure to be prime fodder for tomorrow’s gossip mill, we have to go in to supper. You will procure plates for each of us while we will pretend to be happy and cheerful for the next hour. After supper, I will take to the floor for one more dance and then, and only then, can we go home.”

  Does she also imagine I do not know the rules? he wondered, anger flashing in his system. I just don’t give a fig about them, that’s all.

  He stiffened. “Madam, I do not care for your tone, and if I say we are leaving, then we are leaving.”

  She shot him a suddenly imploring glance.

  “But in the interests of peace,” he said, relenting slightly, “we shall go in to supper. Another dance, however, is out of the question.”

  With her hand still held beneath his own, they made their way to the dining room.

  Nearly two hours later, Julianna allowed Rafe to assist her from the coach. She said nothing, just as she had said nothing to him during the long ride home. He too had been silent, staring broodingly out the carriage window.

  Weary and out-of-sorts, she entered the house, murmuring a soft greeting to the footman before making her way up the stairs. All she wanted was to change into her nightgown, brush out her hair, and climb into bed, where she hoped sleep would make the dreadful evening fade away.

  Supper had been an ordeal, but she believed her and Rafe’s efforts to feign newlywedded bliss had achieved the desired effect. So long as Summersfield said nothing about the confrontation—and she very much doubted he would—the incident would be quickly forgotten. Remembering back, she didn’t think any of the other guests had been close enough to overhear the exchange between Rafe and the earl. Otherwise, all anyone would have seen was the two men exchanging a few words.

  Even now, she could scarcely credit Rafe’s abominable behavior, nor his unforgivable rudeness to poor Lord Summersfield. There is simply no understanding that man, she grumbled to herself, as she let Daisy unfasten her gown.

  All she and the earl had done was share a dance. True, Rafe had once been jealous of Summersfield, but what cause did he have to be now? She suspected his barbarian tactics were merely a case of territoriality. He might not want her, but he didn’t want any other man to have her either.