That Infamous Pearl

by Alicia Quigley

  Alaric took a sip from the glass and made a face. "I will be fine, Rowena. This will pass quickly."

  "I gather you have had this illness before," said Rowena.

  "I have indeed," sighed Alaric. He took another sip, and then seemed to steel himself. Putting his head back, he drained the potion in one large gulp. He shuddered.

  Rowena took the glass out of his hand and sniffed at it. "What was that, my lord?"

  "Some secret of Jameson's. It works very well, but it tastes dreadful."

  "And what is it a cure for?" persisted Rowena.

  "You are altogether too curious," said Alaric. "It is none of your business."

  "I am your wife," said Rowena. "Though you seem to have forgotten that. Of course it is my business."

  "You seem to have very selective ideas about what being a wife means, Rowena." Alaric closed his eyes wearily, aware that he was in no state to conduct this conversation again. If he lost his temper, he was likely to ignore the agreement he had made with Rowena, headache or no headache. She was very alluring, leaning across the bed towards him, sparks lit in her brilliant violet eyes.

  "I only said that so that we might become better acquainted," said Rowena angrily. "I had no idea that you would abandon me completely, and make me a laughingstock in front of the servants. And when I came to you last night, you sent me away. I hardly think it is fair of you to throw my words back in my face when you were so unkind to me."

  Alaric's eyes flew open. "What are you talking about?"

  Rowena started at the violence of his tone. "You know very well you left me all alone last night. I can only imagine where you were. Most probably with Lily."

  "You told me to go to her," said Alaric.

  "I didn't think you would!" snapped Rowena. "You might have talked with me instead of storming out."

  "I left because I couldn't think of another way to tolerate complying with your request," said Alaric frankly. He watched as Rowena flushed. "I am trying to do as you asked, Rowena."

  "I did not ask you to make a fool of me, or to publicly humiliate me. And now you have had your revenge. You sent me away last night."

  Alaric shook his head. Perhaps his hearing had been affected. "I have never sent you away, Rowena."

  Rowena gasped at his effrontery. "I came to you last night. You were asleep, but you woke up and told me to go away. Don't try to deny it. I cannot believe you would try to trick me so."

  "You came into my room last night?" asked Alaric.

  Rowena stamped her foot. "Of course I did. You grabbed my wrist and told me to go away." She glanced down at her arm, wondering if the marks were still there. His grip had been very strong.

  He followed her gaze and saw the small bruises that appeared on her pale flesh. He gently reached over and stroked them.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

  "Not really. But you were unkind." Rowena paused, wondering why he was asking her such questions. "What nonsense is this? You know what you said, my lord."

  Alaric swallowed. He continued to caress her wrist. Her skin was very soft, like rose petals. With a tremor he remembered the feeling of holding her in his arms in Lady Belmont's garden, of her warmth and generous femininity.

  "I am afraid I don't know what I said, Rowena. I don't remember what happened last night."

  Rowena frowned. Alaric's fingers on her arm had an almost hypnotic effect on her. "Of course you do," she asserted, trying to recall her anger. "Don't try to bamboozle me, my lord."

  "Alaric," he said firmly, raising his eyes to meet hers. She saw a steely determination there.

  "Alaric," she repeated.

  "And I do not remember what happened last night. I must have been quite out of my head to send you away, however." His eyes floated over her, lingering on the neckline of her gown.

  "How can you not remember? You did not appear to be feverish. And I don't believe you have a fever now." Rowena gave him an accusing glance. Alaric really looked quite well. His color was returning, and he no longer seemed to be bothered by the effects of his illness.

  "I don't have a fever."

  "Then you must be lying. It is impossible that you could have forgotten my being here."

  Alaric sighed. It appeared that Rowena would have to be enlightened or she would remain angry with him. He could only hope that the truth would not make her more furious.

  "I do not remember, Rowena, because I was dead drunk. I have no recollection of anything that happened after I left Charles last night."

  Rowena stared at him, aghast. "You were drunk? You were drunk on our wedding night? How could you?"

  "I had been informed that there was to be no wedding night," explained Alaric. "It seemed at the time to be an excellent solution. I certainly did not suppose that you might find out about it, being determined to avoid my bed."

  "That doesn't mean I intended for you to leave me alone and to get disgustingly drunk. I thought perhaps we could have a quiet dinner together and some rational conversation."

  "I was not in the mood for conversation," murmured Alaric.

  Rowena flushed. "It is too bad of you to behave so, my lord. I had no idea that my simple request would cause you so much difficulty. But I must say that I feel very little sympathy for your predicament. As a matter of fact, I am quite glad for it."

  Alaric nodded. "I thought you might be. I can only say that I regret it deeply, particularly as you seem to have relented yesterday. May I ask what caused you to change your mind?"

  Rowena bit her lip. She was embarrassed by her weakness of the early morning hours. It was apparent that Alaric had managed to amuse himself sufficiently, and she did not wish him to think that her pleasure depended on his company. She could not let him know how much she cared for him.

  "Doubtless it was the long hours alone that demoralized me," she said sharply. "But do not be concerned. I will endeavor to amuse myself independently in the future. There are plenty of activities in London at this time of year. I will arrange my own escort in the future, so you will not be obliged to attend to me. It is unfashionable to be seen with one's husband, after all."

  Alaric sighed. His admission had apparently not softened Rowena's heart. Instead, she seemed more determined than ever to stick to their bargain. The knowledge that she had had second thoughts the night before, however, gave him hope.

  "Rowena, we should discuss this when I am feeling better. You know I have no desire to see you go the way of other Society brides."

  "Of course you don't. I must first give you an heir before I may entertain myself, is that not so?" Rowena tossed her head. "Well, it will be a month before you can begin sowing your seed, my lord. As I said, my weakness will not be repeated."

  Alaric sank back onto his pillows. He was in no shape to argue with Rowena. He would simply have to woo her once again. Her passions were so strong that it could not be hard to win her over. He would make her forget this unfortunate start to their marriage as soon as he got her into bed with him. The thought made him smile.

  "Rowena, we will talk about this tonight," he said.

  "Do you intend to dine here? Or shall I tell the cook to prepare for only one?"

  "Of course I will dine with you," he said testily.

  "And shall I order large quantities of brandy to be placed in the drawing room? Or will you simply sit over your port until you are quite foxed?"

  Alaric raised a hand to his head. "Not now, Rowena."

  "Very well. I will leave you to your illness, my lord. I only regret that I ever felt sorry for you."

  Chapter 16

  Rowena flounced out of the room, a great sense of injustice rising in her. There was no excuse for Alaric's actions. True, she had precipitated them by her behavior, but how was she to know he would proceed to get disgustingly drunk? Perhaps Lily did not care if he was intoxicated, but it was not a situation she intended to tolerate.

  She stormed into the parlor a few minutes later to find her aunt awaiting her. Lady Belmont rose
immediately when Rowena came through the door and clasped her to her bosom.

  "My darling girl! How are you today? My poor child, I hope all is well."

  Rowena pulled back slightly, a bit startled. "I am fine, Aunt Louisa. I am no different simply because I married Brayleigh."

  Lady Belmont looked at her searchingly. "If you say so, child. I hope he was gentle with you."

  Rowena flushed as the significance of her aunt's words struck home. She could hardly tell her aunt the truth of the matter.

  "Everything is fine," she said. "Please do not worry about me."

  Lady Belmont shrugged. "Very well then. Brayleigh is a man of the world. I am sure he knows all the delicacies. So tell me, darling, how do you like being a Countess?"

  Rowena moved her hands restlessly. The truth of her twenty-four hours as Countess of Brayleigh was too odd to recount. "You know that I was not eager for this marriage, Aunt Louisa. But Alaric has been most considerate."

  "Thank heavens. I didn't know what to expect from the man. After all, he has hardly been a friend to our family. I feared that he might...well, that he might frighten you."

  Rowena struggled for words, and was unutterably relieved when Ferguson opened the door and announced another visitor. Her aunt could hardly discuss intimate matters in front of others.

  The next hour passed swiftly, as callers came and went. They all seemed very curious to see Brayleigh's new bride and to judge for themselves the status of the marriage. Rowena began to feel rather like a caged animal on display. It was all she could do not to return rude answers to some of the excessively prying questions she was asked.

  Just as she was beginning to wonder if she could perhaps escape by complaining of a headache, the door opened once again. Lady Bingham swept in with Mrs. Macomber and Lord Voxley in attendance. Marguerite bore down on Rowena, a brilliant smile on her lips.

  "My felicitations, Lady Rowena. Or must I say Countess? I vow, it is very odd to think that poor Brayleigh is finally married. I always knew that his activities would get him into trouble some day!"

  Rowena recoiled slightly as the baroness tried to embrace her, and smiled vaguely at Voxley and Mrs. Macomber. Lord Voxley gave her an insolent grin in return, and Mrs. Macomber pressed forward, taking her hand and squeezing it.

  "I am so happy for you, Lady Brayleigh," she gushed. "And to think that I was one of the first to know! Only fancy how the two of you were so in love that you were unable to hide your feelings! I declare I was never more surprised in my life than I was at the masquerade when you were found in Brayleigh's arms!"

  Rowena frowned. She had no desire to be reminded of the circumstances leading to her marriage. The only consolation she could get from the whole mess was the knowledge that Marguerite's plan to ruin her reputation had been thwarted.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Macomber," she said repressively.

  Marguerite looked around the room, her curious eyes taking in the various elegant visitors present.

  "But where is Brayleigh?" she asked artlessly. "Don't tell me the bridegroom is absent today?"

  Rowena cringed at her words. Although she was certain that her visitors had noted Alaric's absence, no one had been tactless enough to ask after him.

  "Brayleigh is meeting with his man of business," said Lady Belmont, much to her niece's surprise and relief. "Something urgent seems to have come up, but as I told Rowena, if they had only gone out of town for a honeymoon this would not have happened. Emergencies seem to be much less important, somehow, when one is out of reach. I think it a great pity that there is to be no wedding trip, but dear Rowena insisted on staying in town because she knows my health is not good. I am very lucky to have such a thoughtful niece."

  The older ladies in the room nodded approvingly, and Lady Bingham's color heightened slightly. She had not paid this visit in order to make the new Countess of Brayleigh look good.

  "How thoughtful of you, my dear," she said lightly. "And of course it was very clever of you to realize that Brayleigh would not wish to have his life interrupted. You are the best of wives, allowing your husband to visit Mrs. Blackmore's gaming house on your wedding night. I would surely have thrown a fit if my bridegroom had chosen to do such a thing, but doubtless you know the best way to handle your husband."

  A silence fell over the room after this remarkable statement. Rowena was uncomfortably aware of being the focus of every eye in the room. She fought to keep her countenance blank as a series of emotions raced through her.

  The first was blind fury at Lady Bingham for her malicious comment. If she had ever doubted Alaric's word before that his former mistress was attempting to cause her trouble, she had confirmation of it now. The second was anger with Alaric. How dare he go somewhere so public, and so shocking, on their wedding night? Mrs. Blackmore's, while never discussed among the ladies of the ton, was well known to them as a den of vice, presided over by a woman who, though she claimed to be of good birth, was not welcome in any respectable drawing room.

  Finally, however, and threatening to overwhelm anything else she might be feeling, was a great sense of relief. If Alaric had been at Mrs. Blackmore's the previous evening, then he had not been with Lily. No matter how he had chosen to disport himself, at least it had not been with another woman. For some reason this made Rowena feel much happier. The cloud that had been hovering over her dispelled slightly.

  She turned towards Lady Bingham, a tart rejoinder on her lips, but she was interrupted by a deep voice.

  "It is very kind of you, Lady Bingham, to be so interested in our affairs. But I believe we can manage without your interference."

  Every eye in the room swung to the doorway, where Alaric stood, an amused look on his face. He was dressed very elegantly, his coat of dark blue molded to his broad shoulders, his hessians gleaming like mirrors against his well-fitting biscuit breeches. Rowena searched in vain for some sign of the pallor she had seen earlier. Alaric looked to be healthy and very well pleased with himself. He walked slowly into the room and came to stand behind Rowena's chair, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Rowena trembled slightly at the feel of his warm hands on her bare skin and she noticed that his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.

  Lady Bingham flushed. "I meant nothing by it, my lord," she said hastily. "I intended only to compliment Lady Brayleigh on her understanding."

  "My wife does have superior understanding," agreed Alaric. "However, in this case, she was indulging both my cousin and myself. I was with Charles last night because he had received some distressing news. He was quite desolate, and Lady Brayleigh urged me to keep an eye on him so that he would do nothing foolish."

  "Poor dear Charles, so impulsive," Lady Belmont interjected rather vaguely.

  "How good you are," said Marguerite to Rowena, her vexation at the unexpected turn of events apparent in the sharpness in her voice. "I would not have so much patience, I fear."

  "Her patience was amply rewarded upon my return," murmured Alaric. "I do not think either of us suffered for the postponement."

  Rowena flushed crimson at his words. The dowagers in the room smiled at her kindly, thinking it a sign of maidenly modesty.

  "How sweet," Marguerite said acidly. "I am sure your devotion to each other is a lesson to us all. And your care for your cousin is quite overwhelming, Alaric. I do not remember you being so very concerned for him in the past."

  "I am older now, and considerably wiser," said Alaric. "My ideas of what I want out of life are much more developed. I often regret the folly of my misspent youth."

  "Then I am sure I hope you get what you deserve," said Lady Bingham. She stood up hastily. "I must be on my way."

  "What a pity," said Alaric.

  "Thank you for your good wishes," added Rowena stiffly as Mrs. Macomber and Lord Voxley accompanied Marguerite from the room. Her mind was only partially on her visitors; where Alaric's fingers rested on her skin she felt as though he had left small trails of fire. Although she was relieved he had ar
rived and rescued her from an uncomfortable situation, she felt a certain amount of resentment that he had handled it so easily. The situation, which had seemed so fraught with social peril before his entrance, had simply fizzled away when confronted with his impenetrable calm.

  Alaric smiled down into her troubled face and then seated himself next to her. For the next hour he exerted himself to be charming to their visitors, and Rowena watched in growing amazement as he listened with sympathy to her aunt's complaints about her health and commiserated with Mrs. Barton on the sadly wild nature of her son. Looking at him one would not think for a moment that he had been out drinking and gambling all night or that he had been confined to his bed only two hours before. He was so very handsome and self-assured. Something about his calm made Rowena's mood increasingly agitated.

  Eventually she noticed that Alaric was subtly urging their guests to leave, and in a remarkably short period of time she was alone with her husband. He smiled at her warmly, an action which perversely made her more annoyed with him than ever.

  "I am sorry for Marguerite's behavior," he said disarmingly. "We seem destined to stumble from near scandal to near scandal, do we not?"

  "If we do, it is certainly not my fault." Rowena gave him a severe look. "I have no disreputable past to contend with."

  "No, but as my wife you must contend with mine. I am sorry if it causes you pain." Alaric's voice was quiet and sincere.

  "You give yourself too much credit, my lord. I have no reason to be concerned with your actions."

  "On the contrary, you have every reason to be annoyed with me. I have had some time to reflect on our situation, and I find that I am sadly at fault. It was wrong of me to rush you into marriage, no matter how right I knew it to be for us both. I should have been more patient. Can you forgive me, Rowena?"

  Alaric took her hand gently in his as he spoke and she glanced down at their clasped hands, her fingers very fragile and white against his hand.