Midnight Without a Moon

by Emma Wildes

  Coolly, Gage inclined his head. “Duly noted. And understood. I also love my wife deeply.”

  “I don’t, that is—” Breaking off abruptly, Trenton shoved himself to his feet, gesturing for his greatcoat. He gave Gage one last, direct look. “I expect that my concerns are very quickly passed to whomever came up with this idea in the first place, along with my assurances that I will use every last dime of my fortune and every bit of my social position and power to make sure that someone pays if Jessica is harmed in any way. In the meantime, I suppose I had better get home and dress for my mother’s party, though needless to say, I am not exactly in a festive mood.”

  When his friend—well, perhaps former friend—Gage thought morosely, strode purposely away, he felt a small glimmer of discomfort over what was going to happen next to the very lovely Lady Declan. At the least, her husband was going to vent his displeasure and undoubtedly mete out some form of punishment. He’d known Trenton a long time, and he’d never seen him so shaken out of his usual cool detachment.

  At the worst, she was being stalked by an assassin known for his ruthless methods and lack of pity or compassion. He would assign another man at once to help Ritter in his guard duty, maybe two more.

  Reaching for his glass, Gage drained it, wondering how the devil he’d gotten himself into such an untenable position; stuck between duty and the regard of a man he admired and liked greatly. Because a woman was involved, he decided cynically as the waiter sidled up and refilled his glass. Women complicated everything. If there was one amusing aspect to all this, it was that the suave, charming, and seemingly impervious Earl of Declan had finally experienced, after all the past years of casual affairs, a female bringing him to his knees.

  It was some consolation, anyway.

  * * * *

  Her maid clasped her hands together and gave a delighted smile that reflected back in the glass. “You look so lovely, my lady. His lordship will be speechless.”

  “Trenton? I doubt it, as there is no one I know more glib than the earl.” Jessica smiled back, inwardly pleased at her reflection. Though the neckline was, in her opinion, a little low, revealing the entire upper portion of her bosom, still, the ivory silk, offset with a delicate trim of pale gold lace, was very flattering. Her hair had been dressed simply, caught up in the back, with a small artful fall of curls touching her shoulders. Even though she was a little nervous, anticipation for the coming evening made her eyes wide and luminous.

  At one time, she dreamed of appearing at a ball on the arm of the most elusive bachelor in England, the gorgeously good-looking, unfailingly charming Earl of Declan.

  Not that her fantasy had exactly fallen into place with all the romantic frills, but due to the ironies of fate, the man in question was her husband, and tonight, she would be presented to society as the woman he had chosen to marry. Giving her image in the glass a small, cynical grin, Jessica sighed lightly. Trenton had said he was not displeased with their arrangement. Not exactly devout and flowery words of love, but he certainly seemed to spend a lot of time in her company—both in and out of bed. She was learning that he was more than a handsome face, his personality a complicated mix of responsibility and light-hearted humor, his demeanor never haughty or elevated despite his wealth. What most reputed licentious rogues were supposed to be like, she didn’t know, but she hadn’t expected a courteous, attentive, pleasant companion, who was—admittedly—a hot-blooded lover, but also a…friend.

  For years, she had known she loved him with a girlish, worshipping adoration. Now that she was his wife, she found she liked him, as well.

  “Well, my mother will be pleased. You are a triumph, Jess.”

  Not at all aware he’d entered her bedroom and a little startled, Jessica turned around on the chair in front of her dressing table, her gaze taking in his immaculately tailored evening clothes, the dark color complimenting his incredible good looks. Tall, his expression inscrutable, Trenton made no secret of looking her over inch by inch, his gaze lingering for a heart-stopping moment on the shadowed valley of her cleavage. Jessica cleared her throat and said somewhat shyly, “Thank you. I hoped you would be pleased.”

  “Every male at this party will be pleased.”

  The compliment was a little off-hand, and she swallowed, slightly confused by the tightness around his mouth. His gaze glittered as he handed her a small box, wrapped with a bright gold ribbon that matched her dress exactly. “This is for you, my dear.”

  She took it, holding it absently, still trying to gauge his expression. “Trenton, is something wrong? You seem…odd.”

  “Do I? Open the box.”

  Hesitating, Jessica stared at him, a quiver of unease in her stomach. “You are angry.”

  “Open the box, Jess.”

  Dimly, she was aware of her maid slipping away unobtrusively through the door of her bedroom and shutting it behind her.

  As usual, Jessica thought darkly, the fairytale she imagined wasn’t exactly working out as planned. Cautiously, she asked, “What have I done?”

  Her husband lifted a brow. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, open the box.”

  “I—”

  Interrupting, Trenton said silkily, “If you don’t open it this instant, we’ll have the discussion right at this moment. However, I am assuming you wish to postpone it until I have had a chance to calm down, and we aren’t about to go face London society for the first time as a couple.”

  Her fingers fumbled with the ribbon, since she suddenly fervently agreed. When she lifted the lid, her breath caught in her throat. “It’s lovely,” she whispered, lightly touching the gold chain and lifting it, a dark sapphire in the shape of a heart dangling in gleaming, vivid suspension. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Nonsense. The gem reminded me of the color of your eyes.” Taking it from her trembling fingers, her husband fastened the necklace around her throat, leaning forward to whisper against her temple, “It is a gift for my very lovely, very deceitful wife.”

  “Trenton…” The protest died in her throat as he lifted her chin and kissed her, possessing her mouth with almost violent fervent ardor, his tongue and lips holding her prisoner so that when he finally lifted his head, she gasped in a long breath.

  “That was to remind you of where your duty lies, my dear. To me, and to the union that will give us a future and family.”

  She, all too uncomfortably, had an inkling now of why he was so furious. “I know that,” she said quietly, folding her hands in her lap, adding impulsively, “I love you, Trenton.”

  If she had slapped him, she couldn’t have gotten such a reaction. He stepped back abruptly, the anger draining from his face, leaving something that looked disconcertingly like fear. “What?”

  “I love you.” It was easier to say the words than she thought it would be. She had never planned on actually telling him. She was fairly sure everyone else could see it. He would realize it anyway sooner or later, and this seemed much more dignified. Jessica smiled tremulously up at her handsome, obviously off-balance husband. “Since I am certain you’ve had other ridiculously infatuated women tell you that before, you needn’t look like I’ve just handed you a viper, complete with fangs and venom.”

  “I have never had a woman tell me she loves me.” Those words, said without a trace of his normal casual charm, made her heart tighten a fraction. His smile was ghost of the real thing as he stood there in her bedroom, gazing down at her with an unfathomable expression. “Believe me when I say that I have never let a relationship progress to the point where that would be possible. If I felt a lady’s feelings were becoming engaged, I ended it at once. A rake, don’t forget, plays at sex, not at love, Jess.”

  “I was rather hoping you’d given up being a rake.” The words were out before she could stop them, though she had vowed to herself she would never ask him for a promise of fidelity. It made her too vulnerable, even more vulnerable than the impulsive revelation of her feelings.

  His mouth qu
irked a little, a trace of his signature cynical humor resurfacing. “Ah, you aren’t subscribing to the reformed rakes make the best husbands theory, are you, Jess? I must tell you, I have always been a little skeptical about that one. However, speaking from personal experience, if all new brides are as passionately demanding as you are, I fail to see how there would even be the time or stamina to seek another bed.”

  That evasive response was not what she was looking for, but his slightly teasing air was certainly better than his earlier tight anger, so Jessica shrugged lightly and tried to match his detachment. “Well, my lord, you must admit I need a lot of practice to achieve the level of expertise you expect in bed. You just pointed out it is my duty to please you.”

  Trenton leaned down then and pulled her to her feet, his hands spanning her waist, his mouth brushing hers. “You needn’t worry about practice, my dear. I think you are a natural. As far as your duty is concerned, you may fulfill that later this evening, once we are back from this damned party. Now, shall we go? I feel certain my mother will make this affair as excruciating as possible, but our return home is something I look forward to, very much.”

  The dark sensual promise in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and the clasp of his hands was warm and possessive. It was unreasonable to be disappointed that he hadn’t returned her words of love, so Jessica took his arm and gave him a glimmering look from under the fringe of her lashes. “I think you will find me very…dutiful, my lord.”

  * * * *

  Shouldering his way through the milling throng of guests, Trenton spotted an empty corner behind a pillar and headed that way, grateful to be out of the press of moving bodies. The orchestra struck up again as he propped himself against the ornate carved post, dancers whirling gracefully across the polished ballroom floor. His mother’s idea of a small party to celebrate his marriage had predictably turned out to be hundreds of the haute ton, and even the huge formal room meant to hold such a throng was stifling and crowded.

  Sipping his champagne, he scanned the room, his gaze finding Jessica on the dance floor, her pale coloring and exquisite beauty drawing the eye. Her partner was an older, dandified gentleman with a claret-colored waistcoat and lace at his cuffs and throat. Obviously enthralled by his partner’s considerable charms, the man ogled her bosom openly. Trenton had to stifle what he deemed to be an extremely reasonable urge to cross the room and shove his fist down his throat.

  He felt undeniably possessive of his glorious, young wife.

  And why shouldn’t he be? After all, she loved him.

  The sweetness of the champagne was cloying in his mouth as he recalled just how badly he’d bungled receiving her sweet, devastating declaration. His only defense might be that he had entered her bedroom with every intent of letting her know in no uncertain terms that she was subject to his wishes, and he expected her to immediately stop whatever involvement she had with Gage Reichert’s devious group of spies and politicians. However, the minute he’d walked in and seen her sitting there at her dressing table, all shimmering gold and ivory, her beauty so breathtaking that he’d stopped as if he’d run into a wall; desire, fear, and a myriad of other emotions roiled through him so quickly that his stomach had done an interesting twist. Though he’d still been furious because she’d taken such a risk and might be in danger, he wasn’t able to give her the harsh lecture he had planned. Instead, he’d given her the necklace, seen the shimmer of happiness in her eyes, and felt his resolve weaken further. When she softly told him she loved him, his world as he knew it had changed in a long heartbeat.

  In other words, he told himself sardonically and polished off his drink, he was a besotted fool who let her wind him around her little finger.

  It was a wonderful, terrifying feeling.

  “You should be dancing, Trenton, not standing here in the corner and scowling. It is unfashionable for you to monopolize your wife as you have this evening, and even more so that you have not taken a turn on the floor with anyone else. Really, darling, you are usually much more sophisticated.”

  Glancing over at the familiar sound of the disapproving voice, Trenton said pleasantly, “This gathering seems a wonderful success, Mother. Jessica is enjoying herself immensely. Don’t look now, but Thomas is dancing with Miss Branscum. Now, that would be a splendid wedding, wouldn’t it?” It was true, his younger brother was waltzing with the heiress to a vast mining fortune, her simpering smiles and coquettish glances unmistakably inviting.

  Resplendent in ice blue silk, her hair intricately coiffed, and diamonds glittering at her throat and wrist, Olivia sniffed, eyeing the milling crowd. “Yes,” she admitted, “it would. I am pleased with the attendance, for this is quite a crush. I must say, your bride is gorgeous this evening. I knew that dress would be perfect.” She gave him a look from slightly narrowed eyes. “You are also playing the dutiful husband with remarkable docility. I wasn’t sure if I could expect your good behavior, so that is a pleasant surprise. People are even whispering about it.”

  “Whispering among London’s vaunted society?” His tone was acerbically dry. “I can’t imagine that.”

  His mother ignored his sarcasm. “I must say that you shouldn’t hold her quite so close when you dance, however, darling. Or look at her with quite such…such…”

  Waiting with polite amusement for what word she would choose, Trenton felt his mouth twitch. “Such?”

  She snapped her fan open with an expert flick of her wrist and fanned herself. “You know full well what I mean. You aren’t doing the chit a favor if you get everyone’s tongue wagging over your attentiveness.”

  “Why is that?” he asked mildly. “Because she will be more deeply hurt and humiliated when I fall from grace and into the bed of someone else?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I haven’t the slightest intention of doing any such thing, so you may relax over my attentiveness. Has it occurred to you that I might wish to honor my wedding vows?”

  To his surprise, his mother hesitated for a moment instead of replying with a swift and convincing no. She pursed her mouth and said eventually, “Before this evening, I would have gambled just the opposite. However, I suppose it is possible that you are captivated enough—at least for now—with your pretty wife. I have never seen you before openly display infatuation, much less parade it in front of everyone.”

  “There is the distinct possibility, I’m afraid, that what I feel for Jessica isn’t simply infatuation, Mother. Now,” he gave her a brief bow, “if you will excuse me, I hear the music ending. I might just be able to commandeer her, unfashionably, for the next dance.”

  Inwardly amused over her startled expression, he began to work through the crowd, not getting more than a few steps when he heard a muffled shriek. Not sure where the sound came from, Trenton glanced around in time to hear the crowd suddenly burst into a roar of hundreds of panicked voices.

  What the devil?

  He smelled the smoke at the same time he saw the line of flames shoot up the high heavy draperies that framed the huge entrance to the ballroom. Jostled suddenly as everyone gasped and the horde began to move in chaotic panic, Trenton was glad of his height, for he was able to see several footmen already tossing water on the fire from the buckets used to chill the champagne. Pushing his way toward the potential disaster, he finally reached the drinks table and grabbed one of the containers himself, aware that the room was emptying in waves of people who made an exodus through the three sets of French doors that led to the garden terrace of the mansion.

  Considering it was his house, even if he didn’t live there, Trenton worked diligently, his brother Thomas and several gentlemen with cooler heads than the rest of the guests joining in. Soon, the flames were doused and bits of charred velvet fell in disarray over the floor. Smoke hung in a low, hazy pall.

  “How the devil did this start?” he asked one of the footmen, a young man with a halo of reddish hair, his face a trifle pale under his freckles.

  “I have no i
dea, your lordship.” He shook his head, swiping at a bit of soot on his immaculate livery, stammering, “Honestly, sir.”

  “A carelessly tossed cigar would be my guess, Declan,” said Lord Talbot, slim, young and fair-haired, his grin cheeky as he surveyed the damage. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse, couldn’t it?”

  Surveying the blackened ceiling fresco above the doorway, hand-painted centuries before, Trenton winced a little but agreed, “Yes, I’m, sure. However, I am certain my mother would rather have the place burn around her ears than to have such a social disaster.”

  “Nonsense.” Talbot chuckled, handing his champagne bucket to one of the maids who were scuttling from every direction now to clean up the mess. “It livened things up nicely. A unique touch, as it were. Congratulations, by the way, on your lovely bride.”

  Turning and looking to where a few people were cautiously coming back in through the open terrace doors, Trenton said dryly, “Thank you. Speaking of which, I suppose I’d better find her at once and make sure she wasn’t trampled by the crowd. They left like rats from a sinking ship. I appreciate your helping out.”

  “Think nothing of it. Go find your new countess. For myself, I believe I need a drink.” Drifting off toward the disheveled table where the bottles were jumbled now from being unceremoniously dumped in a heap, Talbot gave a small parting wave.

  Well, at least this gave him a solid excuse for leaving early, Trenton thought with prosaic acceptance of the damage and the abrupt ending of the festivities. The floor was wet, and the place smelled like the inside of a chimney. Even his formidable mother would have to admit it was hard to continue the dancing and drinking under such conditions.

  Indeed, he found in the next few minutes, most of the guests agreed. There was a line of carriages lining the front of the drive, his mother serenely on the steps bidding good-bye to each one as if there had not been a sudden explosive fire, her poise something he had to admire grudgingly, even if they weren’t all that fond of one another.