by Eloisa James
“Well,” Lady Troubridge said, “I simply don’t believe it. Mr. Wapping is a very odd little man, after all. Have you encountered him?”
“Certainly not.” Mrs. Austerleigh tittered. “At my age, I have no occasion to frequent a classroom!”
“The Tatler took a great liberty in calling him handsome. He has hair all over his face, which I most dislike. He has a pompous manner as well. Knole complains that he doesn’t know his place.”
“Butlers always do say that, don’t they? Mine is always making a fuss about someone’s valet not knowing his place. Meteor shower or not, the duchess ought to be more circumspect. Marquess Bonnington is a very prudish sort, for a man so young.”
“Did you hear the rumor that the duchess’s husband is returning to England?”
“No!”
“Yes indeed. And there can only be one reason for it, in my estimation. Bonnington must have asked for her hand.”
“I expect that was before this Wapping business,” Mrs. Austerleigh remarked. “I still think it’s quite strange that she brought her tutor to your house party, my dear.”
“There is something odd about Mr. Wapping in general,” Lady Troubridge agreed. “Perhaps he’s an impoverished younger son, or some such thing. Because he—”
But whatever insight she was about to deliver was lost when the door burst open. Mrs. Massey, the housekeeper, had just discovered that mice had gotten at the linen over the winter, and what did the mistress care to do about it?”
Mrs. Austerleigh was not the only person in Troubridge Manor who felt that tutors do not belong at house parties.
“I would like you to consider giving up your tutor,” Marquess Bonnington told his betrothed, the duchess herself, as he handed her a peeled pear. “It is quite unheard of to bring a history tutor to a house party.” Then he added, rather unwisely, “There’s nothing more dreary than a bluestocking.”
He was answered by soft lips feathering across his cheek. “Am I so dreary, then?” came a seductive voice.
“Don’t, Gina.”
“Why not?” she coaxed. “Do you know, Sebastian, your hair looks exactly like guinea gold, shining in the sunlight. How annoying to be marrying a man so much more beautiful than oneself. You truly would have made a lovely woman.”
“Please do not make funning comments about my person.” He pulled away. “Kissing in the open is extremely inadvisable.”
“We’re picnicking in the country! There isn’t a gabster for miles. Hawes is all the way down the road at that inn. No one can possibly see us. Why not kiss me?”
“This picnic is improper,” he replied. “I don’t care for kissing in the outdoors. It’s unsightly behavior at the best of times.”
“I’ll never understand men,” Gina lamented.
“It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. You understand that, don’t you?”
“There’s nothing improper about kissing your betrothed,” she pointed out.
“You are not my betrothed, given that you are married,” he said, frowning. “I should never have agreed to accompany you on this picnic. Imagine if your mother knew where you were.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Sebastian. She wouldn’t give a hang, and you know it.”
“Well, she ought to,” he said.
“Do you know what they do to adulterous women in China?” Gina asked, braiding three grass strands together.
“No idea.”
“They stone them,” she said with some relish.
“Well, you may be married, but you’re not adulterous.”
She giggled. “Thanks to you.”
The marquess stiffened. “You don’t really mean that, Gina. You’re just trying to shock me by talking like your friend Lady Rawlings.”
“Please don’t criticize Esme. Her bad reputation is vastly exaggerated. You know that all those gabsters watch her like a cat, simply longing for a misstep.”
“No doubt. After all, she’s provided so many interesting tales in the past.”
Gina scowled. “Esme is my very dearest friend, and since you’re marrying me, you’ll have to start squelching rumors about her, rather than starting new ones.”
“That will be difficult,” he said. “Don’t tell me that she was only exchanging kisses last night—why, she and Burdett were absent from the ballroom for over an hour!”
“I couldn’t say what they were doing. But I am quite sure that it was nothing improper,” she snapped. “For one thing, Esme thinks that Burdett is a dead bore. She would never allow him any familiarities.”
“He’s a handsome bore.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You are being quite unfeeling. Esme has suffered a great deal due to her horrible husband—and it’s too mean of you to carry tales about her!”
“I never carry tales,” he retorted. “I simply don’t understand why you can’t find friends as virtuous and unblemished as you are!”
“Esme is virtuous,” Gina said. “She’s also funny and clever and she makes me laugh. Moreover, it doesn’t matter what people say about her, she’s my friend.”
A puzzled frown creased Sebastian’s forehead.
“Oh, all right, let’s leave,” Gina said, standing up and shaking out her light muslin gown. “I suppose you’re right about the impropriety of our picnic, although everyone knows how it is with Cam.”
“The only reason I agreed to accompany you is because you are married. I would never accompany an unmarried damsel on a picnic without a chaperone.”
“You know, Sebastian,” Gina said thoughtfully, slipping the plates back into a basket, “you are beginning to sound just a bit priggish.”
“Paying attention to propriety is not priggish,” he huffed.
“Ever since you inherited the title,” Gina continued.
“Why, when I first met you, years ago, you were far less interested in propriety. Remember when I stole out of the house and you took me to Vauxhall?”
His lips tightened. “Achieving maturity is not the same as being priggish. I do not wish the reputation of my future wife to be slurred by gossip. After all, you will be my marchioness, perhaps as early as the new year.”
Gina was fast losing her temper; he could tell that by her rising flush and the way she was fairly throwing the silver into the picnic basket. He kept silent and watched as she gathered the sliding strands of her hair and began pinning them to her head.
“I don’t wish to brangle with you.”
“Nor I with you,” she said. “I am sorry, Sebastian. I love you for being so steady and respectable, and then I nag at you for the same reason.” She wound her arms around his neck.
But he didn’t kiss her. “We are a most appropriate match, except when it comes to your friends. You are a woman of the highest moral fiber. Why do you have such ramshackle acquaintances? I believe not a one of them is living with her husband.”
“They are not ramshackle. Esme, Carola, and Helene are unlucky in that they have unsteady husbands. But one could say that it’s due to them that we are together. After watching their marriages, I knew exactly what I wanted in a husband—you.”
His eyes softened, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I dislike it when we are irritable with each other.”
“Yes indeed,” Gina said, looking at him with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “We’re already squabbling like an old married couple!”
“Quite so,” said the marquess, looking taken aback.
5
Troubridge Manor, Crammed with Company and Giddy with Grandees
“Carola!” Gina called, leaning over the banister.
Carola threw her head back and smiled. “I’m afraid the orchestra will begin playing soon, and I should hate to miss the first dance.”
Gina walked down the last few stairs. “You look lovely.” She took her arm and gave it a little squeeze.
“I’m not certain that this light material is becoming for someone as short as I am.”
“Those bosom cross
es are the very newest style,” Gina said comfortingly. “You look just like an angel, all floaty silk and curls.”
“I’m a bit nervous because my husband generally attends the opening assembly,” Carola whispered. “Are you certain I don’t look plump, Gina?”
“Quite certain.” They drifted past Lady Troubridge, greeted with secret smiles that promised intimate discussion at breakfast.
“Why does your husband make you nervous? Granted, I only met him once, but I thought he was very likable.”
“He is likable,” Carola said, rather miserably. “That’s the worst of it. I do like him, I do.”
“I’m suffering a similar case of nerves,” Gina remarked.
“My husband may also appear tonight.”
Carola raised an eyebrow. “Has he landed, then?”
“I received a note from his solicitor saying he would probably attend the party tonight,” Gina explained. “And I don’t remember what he looks like.”
“I wish I didn’t know what my husband looked like. It would make it all so much easier.”
“Make what easier?”
“Well, living away from him…” They slipped past a cluster of diamond-clad matrons. “When I’m not with Tuppy, I don’t think about him all that much. You know I love to dance and shop, and I see my friends.”
“Yes?”
“But when I see him, well—I feel guilty!” she finished in a rush.
“Why did you leave him?”
“We fought,” Carola said. “We fought bitterly, and so I left. I thought he would come to my mother’s and beg me to return, but he didn’t.”
Gina looked at her curiously. “Did that make you sad? I thought you had a perfectly amicable arrangement.”
“Oh, I cried endlessly at first,” Carola said lightly. “I had high ideas about marriage, in those days.”
Gina noticed that her eyes looked a little watery. “But you are very happy without him.”
“Yes, of course,” Carola replied, giving a wavering smile.
“It’s vastly more entertaining this way. He is a terrible stick in the mud, Tuppy. Never wanted to go out in the evenings.”
“Hmm,” Gina said. She had just caught sight of Sebastian talking Cecilia Deventosh, who had five daughters to marry off. “Look at Lady Deventosh! She’s trying to wrap up my fiancé and give him to one of her daughters as a present.”
“I wouldn’t worry. The marquess is devoted to you. Anyone can see that.” An impish smile lit up Carola’s brown eyes.
“What does he offer as a husband that the duke does not?”
“It’s different!” Gina exclaimed. “Camden and I barely know each other, but Sebastian is everything I want in a husband: calm, and steady, and just good.”
“Yes,” Carola said, following her gaze. Marquess Bonnington was undoubtedly one of the handsomest men in England, with high cheekbones, a lean jaw, and deep set blue eyes. “But do you ever think that marriage with him might be…a trifle constraining?”
“Constraining?” Gina looked startled. “No, do you?”
“He’s very particular. Look how he’s snubbing Lady Deventosh. I gather she offended him in some way.”
“Well, she is quite pretentious to try to foist one of her daughters onto Sebastian!” Gina exclaimed. “He is a marquess.”
“Yes,” Carola murmured.
“He may be a little stiff in his manners. But it’s just his way. He may be stuffy in public, but not in private. Although I don’t think he’ll be as easygoing as your husband.”
Carola smiled, a little crooked smile. “No indeed, because he loves you. Husbands are only so easy when they feel no love at all.”
“Oh dear,” Gina said, unsure what to say. Her friend’s eyes were bright with tears.
“It’s quite all right. I always find the first evening difficult, but after that Tuppy and I shall be quite comfortable in each other’s company, I promise you.”
Marquess Bonnington came up beside them and bowed. The sounds of tuning violins sounded from the far side of the room.
Carola’s face brightened. “I wonder where Neville is?”
“Here he is,” Sebastian said, moving to the side as an extravagantly elegant gentleman rushed through the crowd. He had the penny-bright hair and blue eyes of a dandified cupid.
“You must forgive me!” he cried. “Your Grace, Lord Bonnington, my dearest Lady Perwinkle. I had a terrible time dressing this evening. Slapdash, that’s what I am!”
Gina smiled. One couldn’t not smile at Neville’s merry grin.
Carola had tucked her hand under his. “I’m feeling blue. Shall we dance?”
“Your every breath is my command,” he exclaimed. “I believe that Lady Troubridge has decided to open the assembly with a polonaise.”
“That’s splendid,” Carola said. Her face was quite happy now.
He bowed. “If you will excuse us, Your Grace, Lord Bonnington. Lady Perwinkle will likely expire if I don’t find her a place at the top of the line.”
She, Carola, and Esme shared a table for supper, and Gina had to admit that Esme’s Bernie Burdett—though boring as a pumpkin—had remarkably good-looking features.
“He has lovely hair, don’t you think?” Esme whispered when the gentlemen had gone to fetch something to eat. Her face was alight with wicked laughter. “It’s soft as silk!”
“Esme! Don’t say that out loud!”
“You should feel his arm,” she said irresistibly. “We found ourselves alone earlier in the evening, and he’s pure muscle! Although it is truly his profile that excels.”
“Beauty is not an important attribute in a man,” Gina said primly.
“Your Sebastian is remarkably handsome,” Esme pointed out.
Gina couldn’t help but smile. “But that’s not why I love him.”
“No?” Esme had that wicked look again.
“No,” she said. “Sebastian will make a wonderful father because of his character, not because of his profile.”
Her statement seemed to surprise Esme into a thoughtful silence. But Gina sighed, despite herself. She and Sebastian never found themselves alone…he was far too watchful of her reputation to allow such a thing. She had no idea whether he had a muscled arm. She drank some more of her champagne, watching the bubbles moodily. Why didn’t her fiancé ever relax his rules a trifle? It wasn’t as if she was some green girl, just out of the nursery.
“Yes, I will, thank you,” she said to the footman offering another glass of champagne.
Sebastian, who had just returned to the table, frowned. Esme cut in. “Be careful, Gina. Your”—she paused wickedly—“your guardian is watching your every sip.”
Sebastian got the pained look with which he invariably responded to Esme. “I was merely going to point out—”
“—that bosky behavior is unbecoming in a lady,” she finished, in a perfect imitation of his lofty tones.
Gina picked up her glass, feeling rebellious. “When you are my husband, Lord Bonnington, you may forbid champagne in the house.”
Sebastian cast Esme a glare and contented himself with silence.
Gina rose, determined to make her fiancé break a few more of his sainted rules. “Oh my, I think you may have been right,” she said sweetly. “I fancy I drank a wee bit too much wine and I need a breath of fresh air. It is so desperately stuffy in here!”
He had risen the moment she did and was already standing at her side. She cast a smile over the table, meeting Esme’s eyes. “Do continue without us,” Gina said. “I really couldn’t say how long we shall be. I feel so dreadfully…stuffy!” Carola choked back a giggle and Esme broke into a clear peal of laughter. Bernie looked around, bewildered, and said, “What? What?”
They skirted the tables and walked down the stairs into the long drawing room, and through the open French doors onto the gardens. Sebastian halted as soon as they reached the pavement outside the windows.
Gina pulled on his arm. “Shall we g
o for a walk, Sebastian?” To her ears, her voice sounded velvety smooth.
He disengaged her hand and looked at her. She was dismayed to find his mouth clamped into a tight line. It was Esme, she knew. For some reason, she drove him to distraction with her teasing.
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said frigidly, “but I greatly dislike being an object of amusement.”
“We weren’t making fun of you,” she replied.
“You were,” Sebastian retorted. “You and Lady Perwinkle and that trollop, Esme Rawlings!”
“You mustn’t call Esme a name like that!”
“Plain speaking is sometimes a virtue, Gina. Your friends are the next best things to très-coquettes that are to be found among the gently born.”
Gina bit her lip. “Don’t you think that you’re being a little overly stern?”
“Or do you mean stuffy? You have obviously complained to them about my stuffiness! Let me tell you, among those people who value good manners, I am not seen as at all stuffy! Merely intelligent as opposed to debauched.”
“I didn’t complain about you,” she said, ignoring a twinge from her conscience. “It’s just that my friends have a lively sense of humor, that’s all.”
“Lively or loose? Do you know that there are many people who won’t even acknowledge Esme Rawlings?”
“Well, that isn’t very fair, is it?” she said angrily. “Those same people are no doubt slavering over her horrible husband, whereas Esme is painted far blacker than she is!”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Look me in the face and tell me that she is not intimate with Bernie Burdett.”
“She is not intimate with Burdett!” Gina cried.
“Not yet perhaps,” Sebastian said with a twist of his lips.
“But the man doesn’t have a chance of escaping.”
“Don’t, Sebastian, don’t—don’t talk about Esme this way! You’ll say things—”
“That what? That you don’t want to hear?”
“Yes,” she said defiantly. “That I don’t want to hear!”
“Everyone says them,” he said flatly. “She’s a trollop, and you know it, and the world knows it.”
