Pride and Fire

by JoMarie DeGioia

  He silenced her gasp of outrage with his mouth, kissing her thoroughly. Grinning, he led her into the parlor.

  * * * *

  A long while later, Michelle was upstairs readying herself for the evening’s parties. She’d been on pins and needles that afternoon, curious to learn what Paul and his friends had discussed in his study. She’d occupied herself with rearranging the front sitting room, coming out into the foyer every so often to stare at the closed door to the study. But she wouldn’t ask him. No. Her curiosity was the cause of their terrible argument yesterday.

  She could certainly put their argument aside and go on with their marriage. She loved him. But could she forgive him for treating her like an outsider?

  She sat at the vanity running her brush through her curls, clad in her chemise and petticoat. Her hair was much curlier than before Betsy had cut it. She let her mind drift. Her blood warmed as she thought back to the hot looks Paul had given her over the rim of his tea cup. She wondered if it would always be this way between them, if he would always set her pulse racing with just one glance. Lord, she fervently hoped it would last forever.

  Paul stepped out of the dressing room at that moment. He wore his usual formal attire, black with a crisp white shirt and cravat. Nonetheless, when Michelle spotted him in the oval mirror atop the vanity her heart skipped a beat. No worries here, then.

  She turned and favored him with a smile. “Paul.”

  “Why aren’t you dressed yet, love?”

  She stood to face him. “I’ve called for Betsy.”

  Paul crossed the room and caressed her bare shoulders. “Personally, I prefer what you’re wearing right now to anything from your dressing room.”

  Michelle shot him a look of warning. “Betsy will be here in a moment, husband.”

  He sighed dramatically and dropped his hands to his side. “Very well. I’ll be downstairs in my study.”

  She nodded and watched him go, admiring his easy stride. Her lady’s maid joined her then and busily set to work on her hair. A short time later Michelle studied the shining curls piled atop her head, pleased with Betsy’s handiwork. Michelle stepped into her emerald green gown and dismissed her after the maid fastened the hooks in the back.

  Michelle searched through her jewelry and located the beautiful emerald necklace she’d worn with the dress the night of the Winslow bash. She smiled as she remembered that night, their awkward dance, their heated exchange on the terrace. Paul had kissed her for the first time that night.

  She donned the necklace and fastened the matching earrings on her earlobes. Pulling on her long satin gloves, she hurried downstairs to meet her husband.

  “I’m quite ready,” she announced from the doorway to the study.

  Paul looked up. His eyes glittered as they roamed over her and she flushed hotly.

  He came to his feet. “My God, you look incredible.” His eyes fell on the exquisite emerald necklace which rested below the hollow of her throat. He reached out and touched the gems, an unreadable expression on his face. “More of your jewelry?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’ve seen this piece before.”

  He brought his gaze to her face. “I’ve seen this on you?”

  She nodded. “The night of the Winslow ball.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Love, I assure you I saw nothing that night beyond your beautiful face.”

  Michelle smiled over his romantic words.

  “And, of course,” he added with a glint in his eyes, “how delectable you looked in this dress.”

  She laughed and put her arm through his. “Come, husband. The parties await.”

  He led her out to the waiting carriage. Once settled on the seat beside his wife Paul leaned back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He held her gloved hand in his as the carriage pulled away from the curb.

  “Well, wife” he began, “this is probably the last round of parties we’ll attend until next Season.”

  Michelle nodded. It was very nearly August twelfth, which brought the adjournment of Parliament and the opening of grouse-hunting season. Most of the ton left London for their estates in the country, not to return to Town until well after Christmas.

  “Where will we go?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid my estate in Leeds is uninhabitable at present, love.”

  “What of Talbot Hall?”

  He stiffened. “I hadn’t thought about visiting my father’s.”

  She put aside his odd reaction. “My mother asked if we’d spend some time with her at Thomasham.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “I do so want to spend time at my family’s home in Derbyshire,” she added.

  “That would suit.”

  He almost looked relieved. Why? Michelle set that thought aside and clasped her hands. “We can give a ball, husband. And your sisters and father could stay, and our friends, and… Oh, it will be quite brilliant!”

  He chuckled over her enthusiasm. “That does sound wonderful, love.”

  “How long will we stay at Thomasham?”

  “As long as you wish.”

  She settled back beside him for the remainder of the ride, thinking about the ball they’d host together at Thomasham.

  The first bash was in full swing as Paul helped Michelle down from the carriage. He escorted her up the wide stone steps and into the entryway. Their hostess was on hand to greet the guests as they arrived and strains of music reached them as they turned to enter the main salon.

  Paul grasped her elbow as they stepped down into the room. She let out a little squeal of delight. He turned to her in question.

  “They’re here, husband.” She smiled. “Lord and Lady Kanewood.”

  Paul’s eyes scanned the room, stopping when they fell on the Earl of Kanewood and his wife. He led Michelle over to where they stood, surrounded by mutual friends.

  Paul shouldered his way easily through the throng. “Kane,” he said. “Wonderful to see you.”

  Geoffrey turned, a crooked smile on his face. “Hello, Leed. I finally persuaded Becca to leave the little lordling for the evening.”

  “Do hush, husband.” Becca threaded her arm through Geoffrey’s. “Hello, Leed. Michelle.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, Rebecca,” Michelle said. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a good, long chat.”

  “I daresay we’ll barely be able to hear each other over this din,” Becca said.

  “It is loud,” Michelle agreed.

  Paul leaned down then, his head close to hers. “Why don’t you and Rebecca go find yourselves some chairs on the other side, love? I have something I need to discuss with Kane.”

  Michelle nodded her agreement, tilting her face up to accept his light kiss. She turned to Becca with a smile. “Perhaps we should stroll to the other side of the hall, Rebecca?”

  “Splendid idea, Michelle.” Becca sighed. “I can barely hear myself think standing so close to the orchestra.”

  Geoffrey kissed his wife and the ladies made their way across the crowded floor. A slender man suddenly blocked their path.

  “Excuse me, I…” the man began. “Cousin Michelle!”

  Michelle cringed to find Reginald Thomas leering down at her. “Hello, Reggie.”

  Reggie turned his eyes on Becca then, raising his brows in appreciation. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely companion, cousin?”

  Michelle reluctantly bowed to social obligation. “This is Rebecca Kane, Reggie. The Earl of Kanewood’s wife. Rebecca, my cousin, Reginald Thomas.”

  Reggie bowed to her, his eyes narrowed. “Very pleased to meet you, Lady Kanewood.”

  Becca inclined her head. She turned back to her friend. “Come, Michelle. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Michelle was grateful for Becca’s offer of diversion and gave her an enthusiastic nod. “If you’ll excuse us, Reggie,” she said, turning away from him.

  Reggie suddenly grabbed her arm, stilling h
er. She looked down at his fingers and he immediately dropped his hand. “I’d like a word with you, cousin.”

  Michelle wanted nothing of the sort, nor did she want his eyes fastened to her cleavage another moment. But she didn’t want to appear rude in front of Becca. “I’ll join you in a moment, Rebecca,” she said.

  Michelle saw Becca’s reluctance but she gave her a reassuring nod. She watched until Becca joined Paul and Geoffrey on the other side of the room.

  Michelle whirled and hurried toward the row of chairs, Reggie close on her heels. “What do you want, Reggie?”

  Reggie placed his hand over his chest, benevolence in his stance. “My dear Michelle. Is that any way to speak to family?”

  Michelle glared at him. Reggie ignored her anger and motioned for her to take a chair. Reluctantly she did as he asked, curiosity getting the better of her. What was the scoundrel about? She perched herself on a chair and straightened her shoulders, finally turning to face him.

  As he sat beside her, she took in his appearance with disdain. He wore a waistcoat of bright purple, his cravat deep green. His jacket was burgundy, his breeches a ridiculous shade of yellow. Reggie’s red hair was styled in an effeminate manner, the curls falling over his wide forehead. Michelle’s gaze fell on his black eyes, eyes that were once more firmly fastened to her bosom.

  Disgusted, she held her hands in fists in her lap. “What do you want, Reggie?”

  Reggie smiled slyly, leaning toward her. “You look lovely this evening, cousin.” He reached out to finger the emeralds she wore. “These look vaguely familiar. I take it these are part of the Thomas estate? Ah, but your father left you the jewels.”

  Michelle recoiled as his fingers touched her flesh.

  He chuckled at her reaction, dropping his hand from her. “Does my touch unnerve you, Michelle? I would think by now you’re used to being, um… manhandled.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Shh. Do calm yourself,” Reggie said. “I merely referred to your union with the viscount.”

  “Paul is a true gentleman, Reggie. I’m quite certain you would have no notion of such behavior.”

  “A true gentleman, then?” Reggie grinned. “I heard he frequented the pubs before your hasty nuptials. He must have picked up a few tricks from the wenches, I daresay.”

  She gasped at his words.

  “I could show you some tricks of my own, dear cousin,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I daresay you would enjoy the lesson.”

  Michelle had heard quite enough. She started to stand, but his hand on her wrist checked her movement.

  “Take your hand from me,” she instructed through clenched teeth.

  “You should have married me, Michelle,” he said fervently.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide. The intensity in his dark eyes chilled her.

  “What?” she asked, confounded. “What on earth would you—?”

  “If you’d married me, I’d be the one sharing in the Thomas fortune, the jewels. Not that Leed fellow.”

  Reggie received nothing from the late Earl of Thomasham’s estate, as Michelle well knew. The title had gone to Reggie’s father, a man who apparently had as little respect for Reggie as Michelle did.

  “Paul has his own fortune, Reggie.”

  Reggie snorted. “So you say,” he hinted, a glint in his eyes. “And his other… talents are much touted, damn him. Cost me more than one advantage, I daresay.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Oh,” Reggie began, “I was simply referring to your husband’s—”

  “Are you having a pleasant visit with your cousin, wife?” Paul cut in.

  Michelle looked up at Paul with profound relief. Paul took Reggie’s measure and she could see him dismiss her cousin. Smart man, her husband. Reggie, however, appeared oblivious.

  His black eyes narrowed before a smooth smile curved his mouth. “Leed,” he said, coming to his feet. “Michelle and I were having a nice chat. Weren’t we, love?”

  Paul bristled at the man’s use of the endearment. He’d no doubt seen how familiar Reggie had been with her, touching her skin. Surely he’d also seen her revulsion.

  Michelle stood then, grasping Paul’s arm with both her hands. “I would adore a dance, husband.”

  She forced herself to ease her grip on him, but she couldn’t fully hide her distress.

  “Michelle,” he began, “what has this scoundrel done?”

  Michelle shook her head, mute.

  “We’ll finish this conversation at another time, cousin,” Reggie said then, glaring in her direction. He turned to Paul and bowed. “Leed.”

  Paul nodded curtly and they watched the man make his way across the room. He turned back and Michelle shook her head.

  “What is it, love?” he asked.

  “He and I never got along as children, and now…”

  “And now, what?”

  She waved one hand in the air. “I don’t plan to waste another moment on Reggie. Dance with me?”

  He studied her for a moment longer and she tried to set Reggie’s odd conversation from her mind. He smiled, and Reggie was a dim annoyance.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  He led her out onto the floor. As he twirled her about, she noted with displeasure that Reggie watched from near the refreshments. When Paul glowered at Reggie her cousin paled and turned away.

  “Paul, you look quite ferocious.” She reached up to stroke his hard jaw. “I daresay the expression is compelling.”

  His expression shifted slightly, determination still in his eyes. “Thank God Becca came to me about the lecherous fool.”

  “Becca?” She swallowed a twinge of guilt for her unfortunate connection to her cousin. “Reggie did favor her with one of his patented leers, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Presumptuous dandy.”

  “I agree.”

  “He touched you, Michelle.”

  She forced a smile to feign her ease. “I don’t give Reggie a moment’s thought or worry, Paul. Nor should you.”

  “Let him attempt to put his hands on you again.” He glared in Reggie’s direction once more. “Family or no, I won’t hesitate to eliminate him from the Thomas line.”

  Chapter 18

  They danced for a while, finally stopping to take their meal in the supper room. If Michelle was frightened by Paul’s violent words, she didn’t show it. In fact, relief had shown in her gaze at his threat against her cousin. Good. There would be no tears if Reggie were to fall on the grass at dawn.

  They dined in the company of their friends and Michelle made mention of the ball they would throw at Thomasham.

  “Michelle, we would love to visit Derbyshire,” Becca said.

  Geoffrey readily agreed, as did Chester and Roberts.

  “The hunting is excellent in that part of the country,” Geoffrey said.

  “Early to bed, early to rise, then,” Roberts said with a roll of his eyes. “Abysmal.”

  “Roberts, you like to shoot as much as the rest of us.” Chester laughed.

  “I suppose we’ll have to find other entertainment during the daylight hours, then,” Michelle sighed.

  “You will manage quite well, wife,” Geoffrey teased Becca.

  “Needlepoint and matchmaking, Michelle?” Becca asked.

  The single gentlemen groaned in response while Paul just smiled.

  As the party reentered the ball room, Geoffrey drew Paul to the side. “I’m glad you brought me in on your father’s troubles, Leed. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”

  Paul nodded. Nothing more was said, but he knew he could count on Geoffrey. If Paul’s father was involved in anything improper, the Earl of Kanewood’s contacts would hear of it.

  Long after supper concluded, Paul glanced at Michelle as she stifled a yawn. He caught the motion and drew her to his side. “Are you tired, love?”

  Michelle looked into his eyes. “Take me home, husband.”

  She didn�
�t need to utter one more word. They hastily gave their farewells, promising to write all of the party at Thomasham. Paul led her over to their hostess, thanking her for the wonderful evening.

  “The party was simply lovely,” Michelle said with a smile. “A fitting end to the Season, to be sure.”

  The elderly woman beamed at the kind words.

  Paul bowed and placed his hand on the small of Michelle’s back, urging her toward the door. As they went outside to await the carriage, Paul saw Reggie watching with interest from his vantage point across the room. He dismissed the dandy in that instant, focusing instead on getting Michelle home and into his bed as soon as possible.

  Inside the carriage, Michelle snuggled close to him. He draped his arm over her shoulders. “Did you have a nice time?”

  “Oh, yes. It was most pleasant spending the evening with Geoffrey and Rebecca, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  The carriage rolled on, his mind occupied with his father’s troubles. Geoffrey had contacts in the gentry, but in low places as well. If his father were foolish enough to risk his position—

  Michelle reached up to stroke his cheek. Paul glanced down at her, reading the fire smoldering in her eyes. His breath caught. He was suddenly well aware of the closeness of the carriage, of her body pressed closely to his.

  “Ah, wife,” he said, his voice low. “You’re putting notions in my mind.”

  Her lips curved in a smile. “What notions would those be, husband?”

  “Michelle.” He caressed her cheek, her neck. “I fear we don’t have time for what I have in mind.”

  His fingers trailed down to where the daring bodice met her sweet flesh. He deftly slipped his hand inside, cupping her breast. His other arm encircled her as he brought his mouth to hers. She returned his kiss with ardor, moaning her pleasure. Her fingers caressed him through his breeches, the fabric soon stretched taut with his growing need.

  “God, love,” he rasped. “Not here. Not now …”

  “Oh, yes,” she insisted, working the top button free.

  He swore softly and set her away from him. Her breath coming in little puffs, Michelle kept her hot gaze on him as he opened the window and called out to the driver.