by Laura Landon
For these few hours, he’d allowed her to feel beautiful and desired and accepted. And he’d not only forced her to face society, he’d demanded that she become a part of it. She could not deny that it was something that still scared her to death. Something she would never have had the courage to do on her own.
She also could not deny that every time he held her, or kissed her, or made love to her, she cared for him a little more.
The power that gave him over her frightened her most.
Chapter 17
Simon stood to the side, watching Jessica dance the promised waltz with the Earl of Milebanke. Good Lord, but she was lovely. She seemed to float across the dance floor even though the plump, out-of-breath toad holding her in his arms seemed to have a difficult time just keeping step to the music.
An unfamiliar warmth surged through his body, starting deep within his chest and traveling to the tips of his fingers and toes. Blatant desire worked its way to the pit of his stomach and lower, where it swirled to an all-too-familiar ache of need Simon had sworn no woman would ever make him feel again.
He watched the smile on her face broaden at something Milebanke said, and then Simon moved his gaze to where the earl’s beefy hand rested against the graceful curve of Jessica’s slender waist. A violent wave of jealousy smacked him square in the chest.
He’d done nothing all night except fight off randy young bucks and middle-aged philanderers wanting to dance with the radiant young Countess of Northcote. Jessica was like the proverbial ugly duckling who had blossomed into a beautiful swan right before everyone’s eyes. Simon cursed himself for showing the world what was hiding beneath that drab finery.
“She’s doing splendidly, don’t you think?” the Duke of Collingsworth said, handing Simon a glass of brandy.
“I think if the good earl moves his hand one inch lower on her waist, I’m going to call him out.”
Collingsworth answered Simon’s comment with a laugh, then glanced around with a more serious look on his face. “Is she here yet?”
“No.”
“Perhaps she will not come.”
Simon shook his head. “She’ll be here. When have you known Rosalind to pass up an opportunity to set the ton on its ear?”
Collingsworth lifted his mouth in a cryptic grin. “You can almost feel the excitement, can’t you? There’s not a soul in the room who hasn’t spent most of his or her time watching you and Jessica to make sure they haven’t missed Rosalind’s arrival.”
Simon’s gaze returned to Jessica. “I haven’t noticed. I’ve been too busy watching that overfed windbag manhandle my wife.”
Collingsworth laughed. “You have nothing to fear, Simon. The dance is over and Milebanke is bringing your wife back to you. Look. He’s so winded he can hardly make it across the floor.”
“By Jove, Northcote,” a puffing Milebanke said, returning Jessica to Simon’s side. “Your wife is the best partner I’ve had for a dance in years. Didn’t stumble over her toes once.”
Simon placed his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her to him.
“My wife should take lessons from her,” Milebanke continued, wiping big beads of perspiration from his forehead. “She always complains that I cannot follow the beat, but the countess here had no trouble. Just goes to prove, it’s my wife who has no ear for music and not me.”
The Duchess of Collingsworth soon joined them, then Parker Waite, the Marquess of Bedford, and his lovely fiancée, Lady Linquist. Bedford had been a childhood friend of Simon’s and was most eager to offer his congratulations on his recent marriage.
It seemed most of the ton was again curious to talk to him and meet his beautiful bride. Before long, the circle of well-wishers surrounding them had grown to a crowd. Simon looked down on Jessica’s pale features and knew it was time to take her away. He reached for her hand and realized from the frightened look in her eyes when she looked at him it was almost too late.
“If you would please excuse us,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, “I think I would like to have another dance with my wife.”
Simon wrapped his arm around Jessica’s waist and led her to the dance floor without a backward glance. “I almost waited too long, didn’t I?” he asked, holding her close.
He loved the feel of her in his arms. He loved looking into her eyes and seeing the emotions she tried to hide. He loved being this close to her. Sometimes that scared him to death.
“Almost,” she replied, breathing a sigh that shuddered beneath his hand at her back. “You have a great many friends who want to welcome you back. You must have been well liked before you left.”
“As well as most, I suppose,” he answered, shrugging away the compliment.
“That’s not what people say.”
Simon raised his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look. “And just what do you see, Jesse? What new information and tales of scandal are you reading on people’s lips tonight?”
“Much, my lord,” she said with a smile on her face. “The ton is busy talking about both of us.”
Simon laughed. “And what are they saying about you, my lady?”
She lowered her gaze, and Simon watched with interest the warm, rosy glow that covered her cheeks.
“Well, for the most part,” she said, “they are impressed with my gown. I dare say, I have passed their scrutiny according to fashion, but I’m sure it’s mostly because I’m dressed so differently from how they are used to seeing me.”
“No, my lady. They are impressed because you are beautiful and there is no one who can compare to you.”
Simon smiled when her cheeks glowed even brighter.
“I think, however, I will not repeat much of what I have read on people’s lips concerning you, husband. I fear your head is far too large already, and I would not want to give you a false sense of greatness that I would just have to deflate later on.”
Simon threw his head back and laughed. “What a saucy little wench you have become.”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I have always been the picture of politeness and decorum. Hardly saucy.”
“Very well, my perfectly decorous little wench. What else have they said about us? I would like to know.”
“Very well. If you insist. According to Lady Andover, you have always been far too serious, even when you were young, and she cannot get over that she has seen you smile at least half a dozen times already tonight.”
“Oh, really?” he said with a chuckle.
“Yes. And dear Lady Dewitt, who hears hardly more than I, thinks you a besotted young fool and that the looks you are giving me are simply scandalous.”
“Does she?” Simon looked over at the dowager countess sitting in a chair against the wall and graced her with one of his most magnificent smiles. “The poor old woman must be all of ninety years old. I wonder what she’d think if I kissed you right here on the dance floor?”
“Don’t you dare. We have caused enough talk for one evening. I do not want to add to their natter.”
“I think we have not given the ton nearly enough excitement, wife. I think I would like nothing more than to hold you close and kiss you.”
Simon turned with her in his arms. They were close enough to the double French doors that led to the terrace that he could waltz her out into the cool night air. He led her to a quiet corner and stood with her beneath an orange-colored paper lantern. This is what he’d wanted to do all night.
The longer he’d looked at her this evening, the more he’d wanted to hold her. The more he’d wanted to press his mouth against hers and touch her in places he should not. The more he’d wanted to make love to her.
Before she had time to be shocked by his intentions, he pulled her close and lowered his mouth until their lips met. The fireball of passion that soared through his body was intense enough to pull a harsh moan from deep in his throat. He could not think of anything but holding and touching and taking her.
He tilted her head to the side and deepene
d his kiss. He pressed his lips to hers and drank from her sweetness. He ravaged the warm, moist cavern she opened to him, taking what she offered. He could not get enough of her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tightened his hold to keep her steady. He kissed her again, deeper, taking even more of her until neither of them could breathe. He wanted her so badly. He kissed her again, telling himself he had to stop.
Now.
With an agonizing moan, he lifted his head and pulled her up against him when her knees buckled beneath her.
She leaned her forehead against his chest, and he held her close to him while they gasped for air. For a long time, they both stood in the cool night air beneath the flickering orange lantern, waiting for their breathing orange lantern, waitingorange lantern, waitingto return to normal.
Finally, he tilted her chin upward and looked into her eyes, still glazed with passion. “I have wanted to do that, and more, all night. Ever since I saw you standing at the top of the staircase in your beautiful gown. Ever since I held you in my arms and danced that first waltz with you.”
“I know,” Jessica answered.
Simon heard the hoarseness in her voice. He traced her swollen lips with his index finger. “You do?”
“Yes. Lady Dewitt said so. She told Lady Andover she was surprised you had not taken me out into the garden long before now.”
Simon lifted his gaze to the twinkling stars above and laughed. “I’m not sure I like that you can read what everyone says,” he said when he lowered his head so Jessica could see what he was saying. “You may read something you will wish you had not seen or believe some gossip that is false, and I won’t be able to set you straight.”
Jessica stiffened in his arms. “You mean, you won’t be able to censor what I discover, my lord?”
“No. I would never censor what you can or cannot see, wife. I would only advise you to realize that not all you read on people’s lips is anything more than gossip.”
“Don’t you think I already know that, Simon? I have been watching what people have said for years, and it’s usually fairly easy to tell what is based on fact and what is simply a vicious rumor.”
“And what fact can you dispel as vicious rumor tonight?”
She looked at him in all seriousness and breathed a sigh as if debating whether or not to trust him with a vital bit of information. “I can dispel the rumor that Lord Cardwell is going to ask for the Duke of Dunford’s eldest daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“But of course he is, Jessica. The match has been understood for years, and I heard just tonight all that is left to finalize are the last few details before the engagement is announced.”
“No, Simon. The match was called off just this afternoon and no one knows it yet.”
“How do you know this?”
“I saw a conversation between Lord Dunford’s youngest daughter and another friend. She said her sister is so distraught she doubts she will ever be well enough to leave the house again.”
“But Cardwell needs that match. Everyone knows he’s desperate and needs the dowry that Dunford will provide. Why has he bolted?”
“I cannot say.”
“I think you can. Don’t leave me hanging now, wife.”
Jessica looked around, and when she was satisfied there was no one about who could hear them, she continued. “He’s in love with someone else.”
“Someone else? Who?”
“Lady Belmont. But he cannot reveal his feelings yet. She has been widowed less than a year. It’s too soon.”
“But she’s penniless.”
“It will cause quite a scandal, won’t it? The son of a penniless earl giving up a sizable fortune to marry a penniless widow, all in the name of love. You think it’s a mistake?”
Simon looked at her. “I think there are times when duty, obligation, and responsibility leave no room for love. There are times when we have no choice but to ignore what our hearts want us to do and let our heads rule our actions.”
“Is that what you did when you married me?”
Jessica’s question stopped him short. “No. I was not in love with anyone else when I married you.”
The look in her eyes told him she wanted to believe what he said, but the rumors she’d heard about Rosalind wouldn’t let her.
“My heart belongs to no one save myself, Jessica. I told you from the beginning it never would. My reasons for marrying you were never a secret, and I sacrificed no unrequited love to achieve what I needed. If you need a reason why I took you as my wife, you have three. Duty, obligation, and responsibility. Nothing more.” Simon paused. The spell had been broken. “We should go in now.”
He wanted to turn away from the hurt he saw on her face, but he didn’t. It was best if she never let herself entertain any romantic notions about their marriage.
“Yes. Perhaps we should go in,” she said, turning away. She took two steps and then stopped. “One more thing, Simon,” she said, turning back.
“And what is that?”
“The owner of Great Northern Shipping has arrived from India.”
The air left Simon’s lungs. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Sydney Carver was here for a short time earlier and said he could not stay long because he had an important meeting he dare not miss.”
“Perhaps he has another meeting? Perhaps—”
“No. He said he had to go down to the Great Northern Shipping office, and he wished the bast—He wished the man he was going to meet would have stayed in India.”
A blast of icy dread chilled him to his bones. “Did he call him by name?”
“No.” There was a confused look on her face when she looked up at him. “I thought you knew his name?”
“I do. And it’s not important.”
That was a lie. His name was as important to Simon as it would be to his wife. Simon closed his eyes and blocked out the innocent expression he saw on her face.
He was not ready yet. He had not had enough time. Not enough time to prove to Jessica that she could trust him. Not enough time to convince her she would be safe with him.
Especially after she found out the reason he had married her was to destroy her stepbrother.
Chapter 18
Simon felt the change in the crowd the moment he and Jessica stepped into the ballroom. Every breath of air seemed charged with the hint of impending excitement.
She was here. He felt it.
He’d waited three years for this night. He’d traveled thousands of miles and been haunted by scores of unanswered questions. Rosalind was not going to go unchallenged one more day.
The blood roared in his head. He would finally know what had happened the night of his father’s death. And when he forced the truth from her, the entire ton would be here to witness her confession. And he would be cleared of any connection with his father’s death.
Simon led Jessica through the room. With each step, his gaze scanned the throngs of gaping people.
“Is it too soon to go home, Simon?”
Simon looked down at Jessica. He could tell from the uneasy look on her face she felt the change, too. She worried her lower lip while the frown on her forehead deepened.
“In a little while, Jesse. It won’t be long now.”
He clasped his arm around her waist as one by one the couples stepped aside. Like the parting of the Red Sea, they opened to let them through, leaving a path down the center of the room.
Men in tailcoats and women in voluminous skirts fanned out as if petals falling from a rose to reveal the hidden center.
Simon wanted to jeer at the crowd. They anticipated the revealing of a priceless treasure. Of a love lost yet still alive and blooming. Little did they know that he could not put into words how he felt about Rosalind. There were not words vile enough.
The crowd parted to reveal the hidden treasure.
Rosalind, Lady Northcote, posed before them, her beauty as magnificent as he remembered, her regal bearing befi
tting royalty reigning over her subjects.
Her red satin gown shimmered with every move of her hourglass figure. Tiny streamers of glistening diamonds glittered in her mass of jet-black curls that hung down nearly to her waist.
He’d forgotten how stunning a picture she presented. He’d forgotten how absolutely beautiful she was. He’d forgotten everything except how much he detested her.
“Hello, Simon.” With brazen aplomb, Rosalind stepped toward them, flashing a smile so seductive only a blind person could miss it.
From the hesitation in Jessica’s step, Simon knew his wife had not.
The look in Rosalind’s eyes showed not a hint of trepidation. Not a glimmer of remorse. But blatant aggression.
The crowd of onlookers gathered closer around them. Circling them. Making them the central attraction.
This was what he wanted—to meet her face-to-face. He would explain everything to his wife later. After Rosalind admitted what happened the night his father died. When he finally knew of her involvement.
“Lady Northcote.” Simon acknowledged her with a bow, too slight to be considered polite.
His blood boiled when she turned her flirtatious wiles on him.
“What a pleasant surprise, my lord.”
“Is it?”
“Why of course. You can’t imagine how much I have missed you.”
Simon arched his eyebrows. The pouty protrusion of her lips sickened him. “I wasn’t sure you would actually come tonight.”
“Really? Why not?”
“We hardly parted on the best of circumstances. The night my father died was—”
She lifted a gloved hand. “Let’s not speak of such unpleasantness now.” Rosalind whipped open her fan and waved it in front of her face. In front of her mouth.
From the way Jessica stiffened beside him, he knew she could no longer see what was being said.
“You look wonderful, my lord. Even more handsome than when I last saw you.” Rosalind placed her black-gloved hand on his arm as if she had a right to touch him.
