by Cheryl Bolen
Though crestfallen, she held up her head proudly. "Why not?"
"A maiden does not dress like that."
"Like what?" she challenged.
"Like a doxie."
She took a single white glove from her dressing table and slipped her hand into it, finger by finger, seductively looking up at him as she carefully slid up the sleeve. "First of all, dear Blanks, no one at the assembly tonight will think of me as a maiden. To all the world, I'm a married woman." She lifted her long lashes and spoke throatily. "A woman who has been bedded by a man known for his virility. And second, you cannot tell me you object to women who dress as I am, for I know otherwise. Does not Carlotta Ennis dress in much the same fashion as I am dressing?"
"I did not ask Carlotta Ennis to marry me," he said savagely.
"Then you're saying I don't dress as a wife should?"
"Yes, I am saying that."
"But, for all practical purposes, I'm not really your wife," she said with a smile. "If I cannot elicit passion in you, it would please me to elicit it in other men."
Anger flared in his dark eyes. "You will do no such thing!"
She began to casually slip on the other glove. "Don't worry, Blanks, I've given you my word I shall not have an affair. And don't worry about your hard-earned reputation as a lady killer. All of Bath will believe you pleasure me well."
Once again, she handed him the rubies. Shooting her a menacing glare, he took them and fastened them around her graceful white neck, mumbling curses under his breath.
When he finished, she tucked her arm into his as they left the chamber.
Sitting in the carriage on opposite sides from one another, he spoke not a word. All in all, his reaction was quite satisfying. If she didn't know better, she would swear he was acting possessive.
* * *
Gregory could not remember when he had been so angry. Even when his solicitor had told him of his father's strange will, his fury had not been this great. Yet, though Glee was his wife, he was powerless to stop her from conducting herself in so bold a manner. How could he impose his will on her when it was his very same will that was keeping her from bearing the children he knew she wanted?
When they arrived at the Upper Assembly Rooms, he escorted her into the ballroom.
Glee looked up at him and flashed a smile. "I daresay you'd rather be in the card room than dancing attendance upon me. I assure you, I shall get along tolerably without you, dearest."
His anger was boiling over. "But, my dear, I've the rest of my life to play cards. Tonight I will dance with my bride." Better him than someone like Jefferson, who might take Glee's new look as an invitation for an affair. And Glee, in her innocence, might very well succumb—out of curiosity or to test her own powers. In that dress she invited a man to put his hands on her, to kiss the creamy swells of her breasts. And, good lord, when she turned, her slim back was scandalously bare. He took her shawl and laid it across her shoulders. "Be careful, you'll catch a chill."
"How very kind of you," she said, smiling. "The first set must be ours."
The first dance of the set was a minuet. Every time he gazed upon Glee's bodice he had an overwhelming urge to bring the shawl she had hastened to remove. He shuddered when the dance demanded she dip into a curtsey. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Jefferson, too, was watching Glee. Gregory had a strong urge to blacken the man's eye for the way he watched Glee move so gracefully over the dance floor. Whenever Gregory looked up from showering attentions on his wife, Jefferson was watching Glee with naked desire. Gregory found himself enumerating all the women—virgins and married women alike—who had been seduced by Jefferson, and he grew angrier with each note of the music.
The second number of the set was a waltz. Gregory scooped his diminutive wife to his breast and whispered into her ear as the music started. "Remember, I'm to convince the world ours is a love match." Then he proceeded to demonstrate his devotion. He held her as if she were a treasured object and gazed devotedly into her face.
"There's a dilemma I should like your advice on," Glee said.
"What is that, my love?"
"Really, Gregory, you don't have to address me so. No one can hear you over the music and conversation. What I want to know is how do I act when I meet Mrs. Ennis in public? Should I give her the cut direct?"
He began to cough. "You will do as I and cut her," he finally said sternly.
"Oh, dear, I hope our marriage hasn't angered your mistress."
"I no longer have a mistress. Remember, I'm supposed to be in love with my wife."
As the waltz continued, Gregory realized the time had come for him to warn his young bride about men like Jefferson. "Now that you're a married woman, I must warn you that there are certain men who thrive on taking their pleasure with other men's wives."
"Or widows," Glee interjected.
Carlotta Ennis was proving to be a dead horse Glee never tired of beating. He wished he had never met the black-haired vixen. "Never concern yourself with what happened when I was a bachelor. It's what happens while we are married that concerns me. And since you're my wife, I grow concerned that other men will find you. . .well, not only beautiful, but also. . .available for certain indiscretions."
She gave him a puzzled look.
He did not want her to lose that look of wide-eyed naivete. Damn it, this marriage was becoming more complicated than he had bargained for.
"Tell me, Blanks, did you ever have a married woman for a lover?"
He cursed under his breath. "Confound it, Glee, we're not talking about me. I've told you what's in my past is now buried. What I'm trying to do is prepare you for the onslaught by unscrupulous men. Men like William Jefferson, who is not received in London."
She smiled up at him, then saw Appleton and the twins standing on the fringes of the ballroom scowling at Blanks. "Surely you're not suggesting Appleton or the twins would want to take advantage of me?"
"Of course not! I trust those three completely. But there are men in this very room who derive a great deal of pleasure in the beds of married women."
"Goodness, Blanks, you will put me to the blush. Surely you don't think I would even contemplate such an alliance?"
How odd it seemed to be having this conversation with the virgin Glee. She was but a babe in the woods. "Of course not. You're a lady. But I felt it my duty—my husbandly duty—to warn you."
"I'm happy to see you're taking your husbandly role so seriously."
The set came to an end, and as he walked his wife to the side of the room, he noticed his friends moving across the ballroom to them.
What he did not notice was that Jefferson also advanced from the opposite side. Jefferson drew Glee's hand into his and settled his lips on it. "I beg the next set with you, Miss-- Mrs. Blankenship," he said.
The fiend had wasted no time! Gregory's hands itched to grab the man's stiffly starched cravat, then give him a facer.
"Very well," Glee said sweetly. "How colorful your waistcoat is, Mr. Jefferson." Her eyes skimmed the fuschia that stretched across his slender waist.
Surely Glee could not admire the fop's loud clothing! Then Gregory glanced at her own bright red dress. Why had he never before noticed his wife's taste tended to the extravagant?
From beneath lowered lids, Gregory watched as Jefferson lingered with Glee's hand in his. "Then I'll collect you for the next set." He swept into a gallant bow and left.
Gregory had a mind to forbid his wife to dance with the man, but he could hardly do so in front of his friends. He turned and greeted them. At least they had the decency to divert their gaze from his wife's practically uncovered bosom!
Glee greeted each of them with their Christian name and a promise of a dance before Jefferson claimed her.
"Knew we'd have to rescue you," Elvin uttered to Gregory. "Looks like Mrs. Blankenship will not lack for partners while we try our luck in the card room."
But Gregory could not remove his eyes from Jefferson and Glee. The
man's sensual gaze would not drop from her for an instant. From this distance, Gregory had to admit she was devilishly fetching. Any man would. . .Bloody hell! He didn't want any man to look at his wife like that. He finally tore his eyes away from Glee and looked up at Melvin. "You fellows go on along. Cards have no allure for me tonight."
"Not when your wife is so deuced lovely!" Appleton said, his glance sweeping to the dance floor.
* * *
Glee was utterly vexed with Mr. Jefferson, but she wouldn't give her husband the pleasure of admitting the man's scandalous behavior. Besides, she rather liked it when Blanks acted jealous. She also liked to dress like a doxie for Blanks, but dressing so skimpily for another man was something altogether different. Mr. Jefferson would not remove his gaze from her body. Really! She could not have felt more naked had he removed her gown. Which was something no man—save Blanks—would ever do. She fought the urge to jerk up her bodice, contenting herself with wrapping her shawl around her. She had a mind to stomp on Mr. Jefferson's toes.
"Marriage agrees with you," Jefferson said hungrily. "But I must warn you, no matter how thoroughly you give yourself to your husband, he will need other women—if you understand what I mean."
"You no doubt refer to a mistress," she said in an icy voice.
"Just so."
"And in such an event, you no doubt would welcome me to your arms."
"You are a fast learner. To think, a week ago you were the prudish Miss Pembroke. And now you are the sated Mrs. Blankenship."
"Sated by a man who offered me his name as well as his bed."
Jefferson looked solemn. "I would have offered my name if Blankenship hadn't rushed to Warwickshire and claimed you."
The waltz came to an end, and she was happy to get away from William Jefferson.
She was happier still that her husband did not once go to the card room that night, nor did he allow her out of his line of vision.
Chapter 13
When Blanks joined her in the morning room for breakfast the following morning, Glee's heartbeat accelerated, and her fingers flew to her hair to fluff it. Would his presence always send her heart fluttering while at the same time sinking her own self-worth? Her husband was freshly shaven with carefully pressed clothes, his shirt points white against his bronzed cheeks. When he grinned at her as he strolled into the room, she could have swooned at his booted feet.
"I can see that marriage must agree with you," she said, trying to sound casual, "for George tells me you never rose before noon when you were a bachelor."
He looked up at the clock upon the mantel. "I must meet with my solicitor this morning."
So he hadn't risen for her, she thought dejectedly. She poured him tea and sweetened it for him. "Three spoons of sugar, if I remember correctly."
He sat beside her, a look of admiration on his face. "You have a facility for remembering unimportant things."
Not meeting his gaze, she stirred the tea and handed it to him. "What one's husband desires is nothing trivial. I mean to make you a good wife."
She could see that her response had made him uncomfortable. "What would you like Cook to prepare for dinner tonight?"
He slathered additional butter on his toast. "Whatever suits you."
"You thwart me," she said with a pout. "How can I be a good wife if you will not tell me what it is that suits you? I know you do not like tongue and are partial to lobster. Should you like buttered lobster tonight?"
He grinned at her. "I should like it very much."
"With plum pudding?"
"How did you know of my partiality for plum pudding?" he asked wondrously.
"It's my business, as your wife, to learn what it is that pleases you, dear Blanks." How she loved referring to herself as his wife!
He seemed uncomfortable again when he said, "You mustn't take your role so seriously, for I don't mean to."
Why must he remind her of how acutely he did not want a wife? "It pleases me. I told you I very much desired to be a married lady."
"And I have obliged you," he said ruefully.
Over the edge of her cup, she watched his face and the hopelessness that shone in his eyes. Like a trapped animal. And it was all her fault. Would she have to carry this guilt throughout her life? Would he never be content with his fate?
Her husband ate quickly, then excused himself. Her first pangs of disappointment gave way to relief that she would be on her own today. For she planned a frivolous purchase of which he would no doubt disapprove.
Moments after Blanks' departure, she heard Appleton speaking with the butler, and she raced to meet him before Hampton closed the door upon him.
"Please come in, Timothy," she said breathlessly as she swept into the foyer. "There's a matter upon which I need your advice."
He entered the house and followed her to the library where they sat on facing brocade sofas before the fire.
"Really, Mrs. Blankenship, you shouldn't address me by my Christian name in front of others."
"Pooh! Hampton's merely the butler."
"But if the practice becomes too familiar, I fear your reputation will be tarnished, and Blanks wouldn't like that above half."
"Fiddle! You, of all people, must know that my husband is enamored of fast women."
Appleton coughed. "Not for a wife, I daresay."
"I fear you are judging Blanks by your own standards, Timothy. And. . ." she added, "I much prefer that you address me as Glee."
"But. . ." he faltered, his lips a grim line across his face. "Can't do it. Too personal."
"Then perhaps you could give me a nickname."
He studied her for a moment. "Like Pixie?"
"If you think that suits me," she said primly.
"Pixie," he said as if he were thinking aloud. "Yes, that's much better than. . .that Christian name of yours. Daresay others won't have a clue when I speak of Pixie."
She tucked her feet together and crossed them at the ankles. "You are probably wondering why I wanted to speak to you."
Not removing his gaze from hers, he nodded.
"Since my husband will be tied up with his solicitor for most of the day, there is a matter I must consult you on."
"Can't it wait 'till Blanks returns?"
"No, it can't. I wish to . . .to surprise him." She leaned toward him and spoke with enthusiasm. "Blanks wishes for me to cut a dashing figure in Bath, and I have decided I will need a high-perch phaeton of my own."
"But you're a.. ."
"I know very well that I'm a woman, and women don't usually possess phaetons, but I think it will suit my new station. And I can purchase it with my own money." Money she had received from her husband, that is.
"Are you certain Blanks won't mind?"
"Quite."
At the coachmaker's Appleton, with his discerning eye, was quickly able to dismiss several inferior vehicles until one was offered that closely resembled Blanks's own phaeton. Appleton nodded his approval, and a price was settled upon.
Glee had not realized a simple little phaeton would cost so much. Two-hundred-and-seventy-five pounds! Which would give her but twenty-five more to last the next three months. She would have to economize enormously.
Glee gazed from the shiny black phaeton back to Appleton. "You've done an excellent job, Timothy. It's exactly what I should like." She turned to the lean coachmaker. "I'll take it today. Send the bill to Mrs. Blankenship at Queen Square. My groom will return soon with a horse."
As she and Appleton walked back up toward Queen Square, her arm tucked into his, he asked, "Do you know how to drive a phaeton?"
"Oh, yes. I've driven my brother's around Hornsby for years."
"And he didn't object?"
"Not at all." Which wasn't exactly the truth. George had made it clear she could drive his phaeton at Hornsby Manor and its environs, but not in a city like Bath. So she had not precisely lied.
She slid an undetected glance at her companion. Timothy Appleton, though he possessed an en
ormous capacity for levity, was not a man who appealed to women. In company of the fairer sex he was far more reserved than he was with bloods. To make matters even worse, he was quite plain looking with his fair coloring and slim build. Because he was a man of means, he dressed with quiet good taste, but his lack of height—and lack of a full head of hair—rendered him as unnoticeable as the wallpaper in her bedchamber. No wonder his amusements centered around other bloods!
"Will we see you at the Assembly Room on Thursday?" she asked.
"Deadly dull affairs, if you ask me."
"That's why your presence—and that of the twins—is so sought after by Blanks. I'm sure the three of you can think of something to liven things up a bit."
"Are you now?" he asked with a chuckle.
He dropped her off at the door to Blankenship House. "I shall see you Thursday night, Pixie," he said with a broad smile.
"We'll have great fun," she answered.
* * *
As Glee read through the day's post, her brows lowered. The bills for her dresses far exceeded the twenty-five pounds that remained from the generous allowance Blanks had given her. And she absolutely would not ask her husband for more money. Demanding more than her husband had generously offered was not the right way to begin their marriage. Would the dressmakers be content to wait until the next quarter for payment? Oh, dear, what was she to do?
* * *
During the hours he had sat pouring over accounts with Willowby, Gregory's thoughts continually flitted to Glee. Though she had tried to hide it, she had become deeply wounded by his insensitive remarks this morning at breakfast. He would have to make it up to her.
When he left the solicitor's office, looking far and wide for signs of the pitiful urchin but not finding him, he went straight away to the jewelers. A nice little pair of diamond earrings should make up to Glee for his cruelty.
Acquainted with Gregory from the purchases he had made for Carlotta Ennis, the jeweler showed him pearls first.
"I think I should like diamonds," Gregory said.
The jeweler's eyes sparkled. He unlocked the case and pulled out a tray of modest baubles.
