She took a deep breath to calm herself and focused on her furry friends. “Good evening, everyone.” Her spirits rose as she checked each animal under her care and fussed with the bandage on the small pug she’d found a few days before. The poor thing had a large splinter in its paw that she’d carefully removed before applying a salve and bandage.
She moved to the next box and sucked in a deep breath. The poor little bird she’d rescued from a cat’s mouth had died. She hated when her efforts did not work. There would be no time for a quick burial, since she had to prepare for the ball. Truthfully, she’d rather bury the bird.
With a sigh, she left the room. Duty called.
“My lady, you look stunning!” Sophia stood back and admired the work she’d done on Arabella. Her gown of crimson red silk with a white net embroidered overlay, cap sleeves off the shoulders, and a low-cut bodice, highlighted the alabaster white of her creamy skin and the slight flush to her cheeks.
Her long white satin gloves left only a few inches of skin on her arm exposed. Sophia had brushed her hair into a fine gloss and pulled the curls up to the crown of her head to cascade down her back. A curl had been left on each side to dangle by her ears.
Arabella viewed herself in the mirror and was pleased. Her ensemble gave her the confidence she needed to face Society once again. “Sophia please fetch the ruby necklace and matching pieces. They will go well with this gown.”
A tap on the door between their bedchambers drew her eyes to where Nash appeared. His eyes raked her seductively, the look tightening her nipples and sending a message to her lower parts. Slowly she raised her chin, thrilled at the effect she’d had on him. “I am almost ready.”
In a few lengthy strides, he was across the room and standing in front of her, his hand out to Sophia. “I’ll finish up, Sophia. You may leave now.” His eyes never left hers, and the depth of his voice sent chills washing over her. To the point where she shivered.
Sophia deposited the jewelry into his outstretched hand and scurried away, a smirk on her face.
Apparently aware of tension between then, Nash gave Arabella a slow grin and did a quick circular movement with his finger, indicating she should turn. She had full view of them both in the mirror. Nash’s swarthy skin above his starched cravat, the blond curls teasing his forehead, and his darkened blue eyes, staring at her intently.
He set the pieces on the dressing table and placed his hands on her shoulders. Brushing aside her curls, his head descended, the warm moistness of his breath teasing the hair at her nape. She closed her eyes as his lips touched her skin. She jolted at the contact and let out a soft moan.
Her head fell to one side as he kissed, nipped, and licked the delicate skin. A slow, dull ache began between her legs, and her knees felt about to give in. Sensing her need, he wrapped one strong arm around her waist to hold her up, pressing her against his hard body. With his other hand, he turned her head, and his mouth covered hers hungrily.
His mouth slid to her jaw, her neck, the sensitive skin behind her ear. “What do you say we skip this ball and find other, more pleasing ways to occupy our time?”
For once, Arabella did want to attend a ball. She felt confident and loved the way she looked. Tonight, she would show the ton that she truly was a countess.
Nash tucked his hand into her bodice and fingered her nipple. Oh, the man was convincing. She purred as he kissed her neck again and did wonderful things with his naughty finger. Just as she was ready to rid herself of her lovely gown, Nash pulled back and sighed. “I am sorry, sweetheart, but this is one ball we do need to attend.”
She stared up at him, still lost in the feelings he’d evoked. “Why?”
He reached for the necklace on the dressing table. “Two of the lords I need to help push through my bill in Parliament will be there. It is almost impossible to get these men together, and this might be my only chance.”
Her head spinning, she nodded and allowed him to fasten the necklace. She took the rest of the pieces from him and quickly added them to her arm, finger, and ears. By the time she finished, she’d almost recovered from his passionate assault. Taking a deep breath to release any remnants from their love play, she smiled and accepted his arm.
…
It had taken all of Nash’s control to pull back from Arabella and to think of his duty. If his bill, which was important to the members of the army, was not passed this session, the soldiers would face another year of ill-equipped quarters and insufficient pay. Lords Dressen and Tamlin were close to agreeing and only needed one more push. Especially, if they knew that both of them supported the bill.
However, one glance at Arabella and he had wanted nothing more than to strip that beautiful gown off her and spend hours in bed, kissing every inch of her nude body. At times, it was difficult to remember one’s duty and carry through. He comforted his raging erection with the thought that once they returned home, he would see to another sort of duty to his title.
He could not stop staring at her on the way to the Kensington ball. The soft light from the lantern on the inside of the carriage highlighted the golden streaks in her hair. Her lips were still plump from his kiss, and her perfectly arranged hair had been mussed a bit. When had she grown so seductive? He’d desired her almost from the first, but this was something different.
Was it the gown, or had she changed? Or perhaps she hadn’t changed at all, but he’d never noticed her strong sexual appeal. He shifted in his seat, slightly annoyed that other men would have the opportunity to ogle her.
Their arrival at this ball was markedly different than the last one. Arabella held her head high, confidence in her every movement. His muscles tightened at the stares she was receiving from the men in the room. Had they no one else to gape at? He took her small hand resting on his arm in his and wrapped his arm around her waist. A definite possessive move that was very unlike him. She looked at him, a slight smile that had heat rising to his face. Bloody hell, he was acting like a lovestruck half-wit, the type of man he’d always pitied.
He frowned when Lord Applegate, trailed by two other fools, moved toward them, Applegate’s eyes practically falling out of his muddled head. “My lady.” He bowed and took her extended hand. “You are looking spectacularly enchanting this evening.”
Nash snorted as Arabella did a slight dip and blushed prettily. “Thank you, my lord.”
Mr. Marshall, a known libertine and third son of the Earl of Lancaster, was next to bow and stare at Arabella’s breasts. Nash ran his finger around the inside of his cravat. He would need to find the two lords he must speak with and whisk Arabella home. She was not used to this attention, and she was probably very uncomfortable.
“May I request to be added to your dance card, my lady?” Applegate broke into a foolish grin that had Nash itching to punch it off his ridiculous face. Of course, it would be good manners for Arabella to accept, but since he knew her so well, he would excuse this lapse of good behavior when she refused him.
“Yes, my lord. I would be delighted to add you to my dance card.” She lowered her lashes and held out the small card dangling from her wrist.
Good lord, the woman was flirting! He looked back and forth between Applegate and Arabella, his mouth agape. Before he had recovered his senses, Marshall, and the other man with their group, Lord Boyle, had written their names on her dance card as well. Nash grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing footman and gulped it down as he watched his wife—who liked to sew up bloody animals—banter with three of the most notorious members of the ton.
The orchestra started up a waltz, and setting the glass in his hand on a nearby table, Nash took Arabella’s hand. “My dear. I believe this is my dance.”
She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “Did you write your name on my dance card?”
He growled and tugged her away from her admirers, holding her hand tightly as he led her to the dance floor. He spun her around into his arms, gripping her waist, his face close to hers. “I do
not need to write my name on your dance card.”
Arabella shrugged. “I was merely asking, my lord.” The grin on her face riled him even more.
The dance number began, and they moved with the music. “You are very popular tonight, my dear.” Lord, he hated how his voice sounded. He was leaving himself open for her scorn. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was jealous. Which he was not, of course, but there was no reason to make her believe that.
“Do you think so?” She seemed actually pleased.
“I thought you did not enjoy the attentions of the ton.” Could she hear the desperation in his voice? He needed to pull himself together before she burst out laughing. Taking a deep breath, he turned them to avoid another couple.
“I find I do not mind it so much this evening. Perhaps I have been misjudging people.”
She had not been misjudging people, she had merely been dressed as the wallflower she’d thought herself to be. Only good enough for old men. He pulled her closer, their thighs touching as they moved in a circle.
“Nash, I don’t think this is respectable.” She tried to ease back. He was having none of it. She belonged to him, and everyone here would know it.
He leaned in, whispering in her ear. “When we get home, I will show you how very unrespectable I can be.”
Her breath hitched. “I don’t think that’s a word.”
“No matter. What I have in mind does not require words.” He spun her around, noting how weak her legs seemed as she clung to him. “Trust me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Arabella was certain Sophia had laced her stays too tight. Ever since Nash had entered her bedroom earlier, she’d had trouble breathing. Now with the look on his face, and his comments, she was sure she’d faint dead away.
His muscled arm was tight against her waist, his hand splayed across her lower back. Muscular thighs encased in satin breeches—which were now touching her legs in a most inappropriate manner—along with his black waistcoat and tailcoat gave him a very rakish look.
Their entrance down the stairs to the ballroom had been much friendlier this time. She couldn’t help but think it had a great deal to do with her husband. Every woman they passed had eyed him as if he were the next course in their dinner. Were she not so annoyed at their forwardness, she might have giggled at the two young ladies who dropped their handkerchiefs in his path.
Thankfully, he had missed it. He seemed too taken up with the few gentlemen who had requested dances from her. She thought it was very nice of them, since she would no doubt have a mostly empty dance card.
The music came to an end. Nash seemed reluctant to let her go. She viewed him with curiosity as she attempted to move out of his arms. “Nash? I believe I would like a glass of lemonade before my next dance.”
“Certainly, my dear.” Keeping his hand on her lower back, he walked her back to the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. He maneuvered her around several gentlemen who seemed to want to speak to them and right to a group of elderly matrons, who immediately invited her into their conversation about their various ailments.
Confused at his behavior since they’d arrived, she watched him make his way back to the refreshment table. Lady Humphries tapped her on the arm with her fan. “No point in watching him, dear, men will do what they want. You best remember that.” She tapped her cane on the floor to emphasize her point.
“I beg your pardon?” What did the woman mean?
“I know you are recently married, but you might as well learn the way of it. Your mother should have told you. But if she hasn’t, then I will.” She leaned in close, the smell of her breath bringing tears to Arabella’s eyes. “Men have mistresses.”
Arabella continued to stare at her. “Mistresses?”
“Yes. You might as well accept it, gel. Get what you can from him in the way of jewels, gowns, and trips. Give him an heir and a spare and then go your own way, too.” She winked.
Arabella drew back, running her tongue over her lips. “If you will excuse me, my lady.”
Despite wanting to rush from the room to the patio to get fresh air, her way was blocked by one man after another, requesting dances. As soon as she reached out to open the door, a large hand covered hers. “Where are you off to? I thought you were thirsty.”
She turned and gave Nash a bright smile. “I felt the need for some air. ’Tis quite crowded in here.”
Nash took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and escorted her out the door, still holding two glasses of champagne in his other hand. He led her to an empty table and placed the drinks down. “You do look a bit flushed.” He joined her and slid a glass in front of her.
Should she come right out and ask him?
I am just curious, my lord. How is your mistress?
Trying not to be obvious, she studied him under lowered lashes. He certainly was handsome enough. Even though she’d known him for a while through Eugenia, she’d never taken particular notice of his looks. It was well known among the Quality that the Earl of Clarendon was an excellent catch. Even after he had turned his attention to Lady Grace, the other young ladies had continued to do whatever it was they could, within the bounds of propriety, to gain his notice.
After the display she’d seen this evening, with women, young and old, following him with their eyes, it appeared he was still quite popular with the ladies. Something ugly inside of her twisted and called out to let the world know Lord Clarendon was taken. He was hers. Maybe not by choice, but nevertheless, still hers.
“What? You’re looking at me like you want to snap my head off.” Nash took the last sip of his drink.
She would never let him know she was jealous. Of course, she wasn’t jealous, only that she did not want to be made a fool of by having women draped all over her husband in public. “It seemed to take quite a long time for you to bring my drink.”
His eyes grew wide. “A long time?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Not as long as it took you to make your way through the ballroom what with stopping every man in your path so he could write his name on your dance card.”
Arabella gritted her teeth. “They were stopping me. I was anxious to wade through the crowd and inhale some fresh air.”
Nash opened his mouth to speak when a voice interrupted them. “Oh, here you are my lady. ’Tis time for our dance.” Lord Applegate walked toward them, his hand extended.
“Her foot hurts,” Nash snapped.
Arabella’s jaw dropped. “No, it doesn’t!” She stood and took Lord Applegate’s hand. Whatever was the matter with him? If she didn’t know better, she would think he was jealous of the attention she was getting. Foolish thought, that.
He stood and walked with them to the ballroom doors. “I am glad to see you are feeling better, my dear. If you wish to return home, I will be happy to escort you.”
She drew herself up and cast him her stoniest glare. “No, thank you. I am fine. Please excuse us.” Wanting to slap the silly grin off Lord Applegate’s face, she glared in his direction, too, and then placed her hand on his arm.
Not as muscular as Nash’s.
They joined the line of dancers just as the music started up.
…
Nash leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched Arabella and Applegate as they joined the dance. He felt like a fool and wanted more than anything to take back his stupid remark about her foot. Applegate was still grinning.
The idiot.
He smelled her scent before he saw her. Overpowering roses and some other mysterious fragrance. With a slight groan, he turned to face Lady Walthrop. If the woman took in a deep breath, her charms would tumble out of her bodice. She leaned against him, her fan tapping his chest. “I have been looking for you, my lord.”
“Indeed?”
She raised her slender arm and waved her hand back and forth so the card tied there swung in front of his face. “I do not see your name on my dance card.” She grinned. “A mistake, I am sure.”
&nbs
p; He bowed. “Of course. It is just that I have not seen you yet this evening.”
She pouted, something that had probably looked adorable when she was the darling of the ton, but now appeared false and contrived. “I will not accept that, my lord. You looked directly at me when you first arrived.”
When he’d been watching all the men who were ogling his wife.
“Then it is definitely time to have my vision checked, my lady.” He took her card and scribbled his name on an empty spot.
She glanced at the card. “Oh, how wonderful. You have the supper waltz.” Before he could say anything, she patted his cheek and said, “Now I must be off. Mr. Garvey has the next dance.” She swept away, leaving behind her scent and his stomach in knots.
Bloody hell. How would he explain to Arabella that Lady Walthrop had claimed the supper dance? That also meant his wife would be free to waltz with someone else and then take supper with him. That yet-unknown man would be free to gaze at her rounded breasts each time she took a breath.
Said unknown libertine was a dead man.
Two young ladies strolled up to him with Lord Abbott. The man introduced them as his sister, Lady Miranda, and her friend, Miss Ellis. Both ladies were young, most likely fresh out of the schoolroom. Exactly the type of girl he’d been avoiding most of his adult life until he had decided to take a bride and focused on Lady Grace. But now, it mattered not, since he was married.
Being the proper gentleman, he wrote his name on their dance cards and waited for his wife to finish her dance with Applegate. Once they joined their little circle, Nash spotted Lord Dressen across the room, speaking with another member of the House of Lords. Finding the perfect opportunity to convince the man to support his bill, he excused himself from the group and headed in the man’s direction.
No sooner had they begun to talk than the next dance started. He explained the necessity of passing the bill all the while watching Arabella dance a lively country dance with Marshall. Did she have to bounce up and down so much? Her breasts were having a fine time with all that jiggling, and Marshall was having as good of a time studying them. Once he blackened the man’s eyes it would be some time before he could leer at another woman.
Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love) Page 16
