Betsy looked up, startled to find it was Lord Templeton gripping her arms. He didn’t seem ready to release her either, running his fingers slowly over her skin.
“Lord Templeton,” she said, taking a step back from him. “I didn’t see you earlier.”
“And had you, would you have danced with me as you did with your husband?” he asked with a sly smile.
“No.”
Templeton laughed easily. “I am jesting with you, my dear.”
She smiled shakily up at him, still feeling a bit befuddled from her confrontation with Lady Sarah.
“How are you, Lord Templeton?”
“Very well, Elizabeth. Pray tell me what had you in such a hurry just then? You seemed eager to rid yourself of something.”
“I was merely eager to join my husband. He’s speaking to Lord Tratham regarding our horses.”
“Horses,” Templeton muttered. “Your husband will never get out of the stables, will he?”
Betsy bristled. “I’m quite fond of the noble animals myself,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “And we’ll raise the fastest in the country.”
He smiled in benevolence again, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “I certainly meant no offense, my dear,” he said smoothly. “Do remember my offer to you, however.”
“Your offer?”
Templeton nodded as Betsy withdrew her hand from his.
“Do contact me should you ever be in need for anything,” he said. “Promise me.”
Before Betsy could offer any sort of response she felt a presence behind her. She turned to find Michael standing behind her, his eyes sharp. She looked back at Lord Templeton, catching an answering animosity in the man’s eyes. A look of kindness soon covered the older gentleman’s visage once again as a smile curved his lips.
“And what, pray tell, would my wife ever need from you?” Michael asked.
Templeton sniffed and held himself straight. “It was merely the extension of a kindness, Balsam,” he said. “I meant no disrespect.”
Michael continued to glare at the earl until the man finally grasped his meaning. With a bow to Betsy, the man took his leave. Betsy watched him as he crossed the ball room. While he had seemed his usual self, gracious and condescending, his face had shown with sharp distaste toward her husband. Surely Lord Templeton would feel some resentment toward the man his former intended married. But why the hateful comments regarding Michael’s affinity for horses? And just what was it he thought she would ever need from him?
“Are you giving his gracious offer serious consideration, Betsy?” Michael asked.
Betsy started and saw Michael’s features were set.
“Never.”
Michael glanced once more at the earl and faced her.
“You weren’t laying your troubles at the man’s feet?”
“I don’t understand you,” she said. When he didn’t lose his rigid stance she felt her own anger rise. “You don’t believe I welcomed his attentions, do you?”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
Betsy studied him for a long moment. Her mind suddenly changed its direction from his ridiculous accusations to Sarah’s maddening statements. Was Betsy’s dowry his incentive to wed? And just what, precisely, did the woman know of Michael’s passion?
Suddenly the woman was beside them, her blue eyes fastened on Michael as if Betsy were invisible.
“Why Balsam,” she enthused, gripping his arm. “How wonderful to see you again.”
Betsy didn’t miss Michael’s reaction. His face reddened as he moved away from the woman. What on earth was going on here?
Lady Sarah laughed, the sound grating. “I should call you Lord Balsam now, should I not?” She favored Betsy with a smug look and grabbed Michael once more. “It has been too long since last we were in the same company.”
“Lady Sarah,” he said stiffly, unable to meet the woman’s gaze.
It was too much in Betsy’s considered opinion. First, his hurtful comments regarding Lord Templeton and now, his odd behavior with this hateful woman. Without a word to either of them she turned on her heel and strode out of the ball room.
***
“Why, Balsam,” Lady Sarah went on, stroking her fingers over his arm. “You’ve certainly changed since last we were together. Matured rather nicely, I would say.”
Michael’s eyes had been on his wife’s retreating back, Sarah’s words a meaningless buzz in his ears.
“You will take your hand from me, my lady,” he said between clenched teeth.
Sarah giggled and pressed against him. “Oh, but you much enjoyed my touch at one time, my lord.”
Michael thought back to that ill-advised near-tryst in a darkened garden three years ago. He deliberately removed her hand from his arm and bent his head to hers.
“You will not speak so to me again.” He pulled back to rake his eyes over her. “Is it truly wise to show your true nature when you have gone to such lengths to create the illusion of a woman of breeding?”
He didn’t wait for her answer, but turned swiftly to search for his wife. He spied Betsy standing beside her sister, looking alternately miserable and quite put-out. He wouldn’t feel guilty about Sarah’s insinuations. Instead he would press Betsy to explain her warm welcome to the esteemed earl’s magnanimous offer.
He crossed to them and bowed to Maggie, reaching out to grasping Betsy’s elbow.
“Have you had enough frivolity, Betsy?”
Betsy made him no verbal answer, simply inclined her head. Bidding Maggie good night, she took Michael’s arm and silently accompanied him to give their regards to their hostess before departing.
The carriage ride home was profoundly silent, each of them apparently lost in their own thoughts. Michael fumed as Betsy stared out the small window. What was it that held her attention? Or was she merely working her mind around the pompous Templeton’s gracious offer? Bloody hell.
The carriage soon stopped in front of their townhouse and the two of them entered and climbed the stairs to their chamber. Michael entered the dressing room, leaving Betsy to ring for her maid. When he emerged, he found Betsy standing in front of the cheval glass wearing only her chemise and petticoat.
She started as he wrapped his arms around her, but she soon relaxed against him.
“Do you find her pretty?” she asked him softly.
“Who?” he countered, nibbling on her ear.
Betsy turned in his arms, looking up at him.
“Lady Sarah Addington.”
Michael pulled back. “I suppose she’s pretty on the outside.” He stroked her cheek. “But her insides are as black as her hair.”
Betsy blinked up at him. “How well did you know her?”
“Fleetingly, I assure you,” he said. “We met a few years ago.”
Michael didn’t want to speak of Sarah at the moment. His ire over Templeton fled his mind as well when he caught his wife’s tempting mouth in a kiss. He let the love he felt for her, and the passion he so easily aroused in her lovely body, overtake him as they fell upon the bed.
After spending a good part of the morning seeing to a few errands, Michael returned to the townhouse in a dark mood. He walked into the entryway and glanced at the salver tray used to hold cards from callers. Templeton’s card caught his eye. He snatched it up and quickly read it. He hadn’t stopped by, to Michael’s great relief. He’d added a note, however. Giving his regards and saying how much he enjoyed seeing her last evening.
“Why that pompous ass.” he muttered.
Clutching the note he stormed into the parlor, intent on learning the particulars from his wife. When he found her absent from that room he searched the ground floor of the house, his anger mounting. When he finally located her at the small writing desk in the front sitting room, he took great offense at what he assumed she was about.
“What the devil is the meaning of this?” he asked without preamble.
Betsy looked up in surprise.
; “Michael,” she began, her eyes falling on the crumpled paper in his hand. “Oh, I see you—”
“Are you now penning your suitor a note of your own, wife?” he cut in, walking swiftly to the desk. “Surely you’re expressing your own great delight in seeing him last evening?”
Betsy placed her pen on the desk and frowned at him.
“I was writing a letter to my sister Mary,” Betsy snapped. “How dare you make such an accusation.”
Michael had no real answer to her pique. He raked his fingers through his hair. His mind had been full of Templeton that day; of his pomposity, of his blatant pursuit of Betsy. He’d had the great misfortune of running into the man that very morning, and had found his demeanor unchanged from the previous evening’s.
The earl had assumed an arrogant pose and inquired after Betsy’s well-being as if he were genuinely concerned about her. And to find a note from the distasteful gentleman in his own salver upon his homecoming? He glanced once more at Betsy. She looked furious, and he was in no mood for a verbal sparring match at the moment.
Without another word to her, he stalked out of the room.
Chapter 26
“Maggie!” Betsy greeted her sister with a warm hug.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Maggie kissed Betsy on the cheek. “How are you?”
Betsy sensed something in Maggie’s tone and felt a prick of unease. “What do you mean?”
Maggie smiled at her, took off her gloves, and sat down. “You can’t fool me.”
Betsy sat down to face her. “Not much escapes your notice.”
“I saw Balsam’s demeanor two nights past, if that is to what you are referring,” Maggie said. “And yours.”
“He’s so unreasonable about Lord Templeton,” she told Maggie. “I can’t believe he would think I would ever encourage that ridiculous man.”
“How is Templeton coming between you now?”
Betsy huffed a breath. “Templeton sent a note yesterday.”
“A note?”
“It was nothing, but Michael was quite put out.”
“Balsam loves you, sister,” Maggie said. “And with that, comes a touch of possessiveness. Also, you were once engaged to that ridiculous man.”
“But that was in the past, Maggie. And I never felt any real attachment to Lord Templeton. No true affection.”
“The past sometimes has great bearing on the present,” Maggie said. “What of your own reaction to the lovely Lady Sarah Addington, that viper?”
Betsy felt a flash of pique. “She claims some sort of attachment to Michael.”
“And you would believe anything that came out of that perfectly-rouged mouth?”
“She seemed so certain, Maggie. So…knowledgeable.”
Maggie waved a hand dismissively. “Surely you haven’t forgotten her machinations at Bridgewater Park, have you?”
“Hardly,” Betsy said. “But what of Michael’s words?”
“What words, precisely?”
“I asked him if he thought her pretty.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did,” Betsy said quickly. “And he said she was pretty but had ugly insides, or something to that effect.”
“Well, there you have it.”
“But how well does he know her?”
“Sweetheart,” Maggie laughed. “Precisely how long did it take you to see through Sarah’s pretty façade?”
“Not very long.”
“And you were but a child,” Maggie said. “Balsam is an intelligent man. He no doubt saw through to Sarah’s true personality within moments of making her acquaintance.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.” Maggie stood and pulled on her gloves, a satisfied expression on her face. “Tell me you won’t let Sarah, or Templeton for that matter, cause a rift between you and you husband.”
“I won’t.”
She came to her feet and hugged Maggie again. They walked together to the entry and one of the maids Michael’s solicitor had retained stood there.
“My lady,” she said with a curtsey.
“Yes?”
She indicated a box resting on the hall table. “A package was delivered for you, my lady.”
Betsy thanked the girl, who retreated to the back of the house. Betsy opened the package, a box of beautifully decorated sweets, and removed the card tucked within.
Maggie reached into the box and withdrew a sweet. “Apparently Balsam is feeling remorseful for his response to the esteemed earl,” she observed as she nibbled at the confection.
Betsy froze. “This isn’t from Michael.” She held the card out to her sister. “It’s from Lord Templeton.”
“What?” Maggie said, taking the card from Betsy’s limp fingers. “‘My dearest Elizabeth,’” she read aloud. “‘It was divine to see you at the Winston’s bash. I flatter myself you were as pleased to make my acquaintance anew.’” She blinked at her sister. “What a pompous ass.”
“Unbelievable,” Betsy said. “Do read on.”
“All right. ‘I hope your husband has not misconstrued my offer. I would do nothing to diminish your happiness. I hope to see you soon, perhaps when I dine with your parents two days hence.’” Maggie clicked her tongue and handed it back to Betsy. “Can he be serious?”
Betsy closed the box of sweets and took the card from Maggie.
“I must get rid of this,” she said nearly to herself.
“Are you not going to tell Balsam?” Maggie asked, her hands on her hips.
“What would he think, Maggie?” Betsy countered. “He was furious to read Templeton’s note yesterday. What would think of this?”
“As you will,” Maggie said finally. “But your husband won’t be put off for long.”
Maggie took her leave and Betsy stared at the box for a long moment, finally call out to the maid.
The girl swiftly returned. “Yes, my lady?”
“Please take these back to the servants’ quarters,” Betsy said. “Do enjoy them.”
***
Betsy and Michael were both quiet that evening as they sat in the carriage, bound for the Bridgewaters’ townhouse. They found Maggie and Philip in the parlor awaiting the dinner bell, along with Lady Bridgewater.
“Children,” Lady Bridgewater said, embracing her daughter and squeezing Michael’s hand. “We have a slight change of plans for this evening’s dinner.”
“Oh?” Michael asked.
Philip shrugged his shoulders when Michael glanced in his direction.
“Yes,” Lady Bridgewater went on. “Lord Templeton called on your father this afternoon and I happily extended him a dinner invitation.”
Michael’s belly clenched.
“Oh, Mother,” Betsy said. “How could you?”
“Do not worry about the table’s being uneven,” Betsy’s mother said with a wave of her hand. “I invited another to round out our table.”
Michael was stunned to see the lady in question breeze into the parlor, all false smiles and tinny laughter.
“Hello, Lady Sarah,” Betsy said.
“Hello, Lady Balsam,” Sarah returned. “Imagine seeing you again so soon after our lovely conversation of two nights past.”
“Good evening, Lady Sarah,” Maggie said. “How are you?”
“I am quite well, thank you. And quite delighted to be included in the party.”
A servant announced the arrival of Lord Templeton. Michael turned from her and bent his head to Philip’s.
“I can scarcely believe he’s here.”
Betsy’s father smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid Lady Bridgewater extended the invitation, Philip. Believe me, if I could have retracted it I most happily would have.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, sir,” Michael said, feigning an easiness he didn’t feel.
Relief showed in Lord Bridgewater’s eyes and Michael at last felt a bit of ease himself. He fixed his gaze on Betsy from across the parlor as Templeton merely nodded in the thre
e gentlemen’s direction and went immediately to her side.
“I’m most pleased to see you, Elizabeth,” Templeton said.
The dinner was served directly and the room was soon filled with the sounds of shining silver softly clinking against fine china. Betsy appeared pale for a moment as she stared down at the roast beef smothered in rich gravy. Michael was certain it couldn’t be the fine fare. Surely she was as uncomfortable in Sarah and Templeton’s company as he was.
“I trust you enjoyed my gift, Elizabeth,” Lord Templeton said.
Michael’s ears perked. What was this? Before he could ask about the man’s statement he felt a small hand grip his thigh, quite near his groin. He reached beneath the table and gripped Sarah’s fingers. His grasp was not tender as he smiled around clenched teeth.
“You will take your hand from me,” he said in a low voice.
Sarah smiled as she sought to find him again, stroking his thigh. She bit her lip as his grip tightened. After a beat, she released her hold and he did likewise. He consumed the remainder of the wonderful meal on his plate, tasting nothing of the tender beef and perfectly roasted vegetables. First to see Betsy conversing so comfortably with that pompous old man, and then to feel Sarah’s unwanted touch upon him! Bloody rotten evening.
After dinner the sexes separated. When the gentlemen returned to the parlor, he was confounded to find Betsy absent. He made his way toward Maggie but was waylaid by Lady Sarah.
“Balsam,” she purred, running her fingers over his arm.
“Where is my wife?” he asked, barely sparing her a glance.
Sarah dropped her hand. “She took herself out of the room just as we were preparing to welcome you gentlemen. Apparently she couldn’t bear to be in Lord Templeton’s company.”
Michael stared hard at her. “What?”
Sarah smiled up at him, leaning close.
“Perhaps she finds his attentions unsettling in these surroundings.”
Michael turned from her to glance at Templeton where he stood talking to Betsy’s mother.
“Why would that be?” he asked himself aloud.
“He’s a formidable man, Balsam,” she said, tossing her head. “Very handsome and powerful. But this is her parents’ home, after all.”
Michael could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as the girl’s words penetrated. Was Betsy indeed having trouble maintaining her distance from the esteemed earl? She’d seemed attentive during their dinner conversation, and there was the mention of a gift. Just what had Templeton sent and why hadn’t he heard of it before now?
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