She was seated at her dressing table when Jason entered the room. Grateful for the distraction, she examined his reflection in the pier glass. He looked strikingly handsome in his formal blue and buff attire, with a pristine white cravat and diamond stickpin at his throat. His evening clothes seemed only to emphasize his masculinity and accentuate the powerful lines of his tall body, for the coat molded perfectly to his superb shoulders, while the close-fitting satin breeches blatantly hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs.
He approved of her appearance, too, Lauren realized, feeling the caress of his admiring glance as Jason came to stand directly behind her. When their gazes met in the glass, a queer breathlessness assailed Lauren. She was hardly aware when the maid excused herself and left the room.
Jason held Lauren's gaze as his long fingers closed over her bare shoulders. "Magnificent," he said softly.
She managed a tremulous smile. She was wearing a new, extremely fashionable gown, cut low over the bosom to reveal a large expanse of flawlessly smooth skin. The underskirt of cream shot with gold threads shimmered enticingly, while the overskirt of a deep emerald brought out the green in her eyes. She wasn't wearing the fantastic set of Effing diamonds and emeralds that would have complemented her gown, but had chosen instead to wear the jeweled heart Jason had given her, along with a spray of gems for her hair. The effect was simple and elegant, Lauren thought. She defensively touched the beautiful little heart. "This might not be appropriate, but I would like to wear it."
Jason's smile was infinitely tender. "Nothing could please me more, Cat-eyes. I only wish my name were engraved on it so everyone would realize at once that you're mine. As it is, I'm likely to spend the entire evening fighting off the gentlemen. Doubtless they will besiege you. You look like a queen."
Jason wasn't far wrong in his assessment. The masculine half of the crowd at Lady Trent's gathering received Lauren with open arms. The ladies were more reserved, of course, but even they expressed a genuine curiosity to know more about the beauty who had captured the elusive Jason Stuart. And if the words Cit and trade and commoner were uppermost on their minds, they were too aware of the power the Marquess of Effing wielded in society to risk offending his new marchioness.
Lauren stood in the reception line for what seemed like hours, being introduced to a myriad of elegant people, three- quarters of whom she couldn't even remember later. Afterward, she was allowed to proceed to the ballroom—the only room in the Trent mansion that could hold the many guests—and was immediately surrounded.
Dismayed, Lauren looked to Jason for assistance, but he ignored the plea in her eyes, giving her an "I told you so" grin and shrugging his shoulders helplessly. The next moment, his attention was claimed by some of the guests, and Lauren could only watch wistfully as he disappeared into the throng.
It was more than three hours later before she saw him again, moving toward her with another gentleman in tow. Even in a crowd Jason's presence was compelling, and Lauren felt a surge of pride that such a powerful, magnificent male belonged to her.
"Sweetheart," Jason said when he reached her side. "I'd like you to meet one of my closest friends and classmates, Dominic Serrault, the Earl of Stanton. I beg you not to be insulted by his late arrival, though. Dominic has no manners to speak of and is only tolerated for his charming smile. I'll leave you two to become acquainted while I fetch you a glass of wine."
Before Lauren could say a word, Jason was gone again and Lord Stanton was bowing over her hand. When he straightened, she found herself looking up into a pair of penetrating gray eyes. He was a striking man, Lauren reflected, though not anything like her tall, blue-eyed husband. Lord Stanton's dark hair and aristocratic features lent him an air of cynicism, while he carried himself with a natural arrogance that bordered on haughtiness.
He was assessing her quite seriously, Lauren realized, and although he greeted her in a polite, even tone, it was obvious from his severe expression, that he meant to withhold judgment till he knew her better. Indeed, it almost seemed that he was prepared to dislike her. Yet, strangely, Lauren welcomed his reserve. All evening long she had been showered with empty flattery, and though she hadn't found the compliments abhorrent, they had really meant little to her. She wanted approval, of course, but she would far rather it be because of her character than because she had a pleasing face and figure.
She was accorded time for only a brief exchange with Lord Stanton, however, before a woman Lauren recalled vaguely as being the daughter of a duke came up to her then and rather rudely claimed her attention.
Lauren did her best to remain unruffled by Lady Blanche's sly innuendos, truly she did. She responded politely to the prying questions about her background and common antecedents, and even smiled and bit her tongue when Blanche intimated that Jason had married her for her "vulgar" wealth. But when the woman had the temerity to suggest that it was merely a matter of time before Lord Effing resumed "certain activities" that he had enjoyed before his marriage, Lauren's eyes flashed.
"Alas," Lauren said with a sigh, "I could only hope that you would win your wager, my lady. It is so terribly exhausting, being required to satisfy a man as . . . active as my husband. And so unfashionable. Imagine," she added with sugary sweetness, "Jason insists that I share his bed! I fear he doesn't care in the least what other people say of us. Indeed, he doesn't mind telling anyone who asks that ours was a love match, though I have begged him not to do so. I can barely hold up my head. Oh, but perhaps I should not have said such a thing to you, my lady. How could you know of such things as the habits of virile men? I do hope you will forgive me."
Lauren viewed the result of her little speech with satisfaction; judging from Blanche's queer expression, the lady was unable to decide whether or not she had just been insulted, and if so, whether to take offense.
Blanche was clever enough to realize, however, that the new Lady Effing hadn't been intimidated. Just as she was clever enough to discern that her ploy to attract the handsome Lord Stanton had failed. He was coughing delicately into his fist, quite obviously in an effort to choke back his laughter. Feeling uncomfortably like she was the object of an unspoken jest, Lady Blanche smiled weakly and pretended to see someone to whom she "simply must speak." When she hastily took her leave, Lauren let out a sigh of relief.
"'Which if not victory is yet revenge,'" Lord Stanton murmured, causing Lauren to turn and eye him narrowly. She had forgotten his presence since he had been standing a little behind her, but it was obvious that he had been listening to the entire exchange. When she saw the mocking glimmer in his gray eyes, Lauren recalled what she had said about virile men and flushed. But then she lifted her chin. "I cannot abide cats," she said defensively.
He smiled. "Neither can I. And the Lady Blanche is truly representative of the species. I think perhaps she would have tried to bite as well as scratch, had she understood half of what you said."
Lauren didn't answer, for she was contemplating the amazing change that had been wrought in Stanton's arrogant features. Looking up at him, she silently agreed with Jason: the gentleman did have a very charming smile.
Just then, Jason returned bearing a glass of champagne. When Lauren accepted it coolly, he studied her face. "What's wrong, sweetheart? I trust Dominic hasn't done anything that will require me to call him out. He's far too good a shot."
Lauren frowned at her husband in disapproval. "Of course not. Lord Stanton has merely been quoting Milton to me." Her reply earned an admiring glance from the earl, but she missed seeing it as she scolded Jason. "It is you, darling, who is in disfavor at the moment. You were about to prove me a liar. I have been telling everyone how much you dote on me."
Jason's blue eyes widened innocently. "But I do!"
"And yet you leave me to fend for myself all evening. Really, Jason, how could you?"
"I told you how it would be," he replied, unrepentant. "I was unable to get near you for all your other admirers."
"Well, if I had known you
meant to abandon me to the mercy of these . . . these kind people, I would have asked Lady Agatha to require us all to come in costume. I would have worn a suit of armor at the very least."
Amusement sparkled in Jason's eyes. "I ask you, Dominic, has it seemed to you that my wife has needed my protection?"
"Not at all," Lord Stanton answered easily. "Nor mine. She routed the enemy entirely on her own, without help from either of us. Her wit was sword enough. But I do advise you to take better care of your beautiful lady, Jason, before someone else offers to do it for you. She has already confessed how very wearing it is to be married to you, what with your constant demands . . . on her time."
Jason lifted a brow and looked from his friend to Lauren. When she wouldn't meet his eyes, he noted the slight flush that stained her cheeks. "How remiss of me," Jason said finally. "Come, sweetheart. We must find you a chair away from all this crush. Dominic, if you will excuse us?"
"Jason, there is really nothing wrong," Lauren protested as she was led away.
He steered her toward the doors that led to a darkened garden. "I thought not. But I'm interested in hearing this tale of how demanding I am."
Worried that he had misinterpreted Lord Stanton's words, Lauren tried to explain. "I didn't actually say that—"
"No? Then I shall have to give you a reason to complain."
Hearing laughter in his tone, Lauren peered up at him. Jason was grinning down at her, a warm light in his eyes. Lauren accompanied him meekly then, and when darkness closed in around them, she went willingly into his arms.
Jason gathered her enticing body even closer. This was what he had been wanting to do all evening, this and more. . . . "Aunt Agatha will just have to forgive me for stealing you away," he breathed huskily in her ear. "It has been far too long between feedings."
It was in their own garden, two days later, that Jason told Lauren of his plans to accompany the British fleet to Algiers. The summer day was like a rich wine, to be sipped slowly and savored, but Lauren tasted only vinegar as she strolled arm and arm with Jason between beds of roses and columbine.
"The problem with pirates in the Mediterranean is widespread," he explained. "And it concerns more than just the Carlin Line. No ship is safe from attack unless its country pays exorbitant fees for protection. Generally, the vessels are either captured or sunk, while the cargo is seized and the crew and passengers taken captive. Those who are rich enough are ransomed, those not are sold into slavery."
When Lauren remained silent, Jason went on. "The corsairs operate from bases along the African coast. There have been several attempts in recent years to clean up the area and make it safe for commerce, starting with the American efforts at the turn of the century, but they've generally been unsuccessful. So has diplomacy. Currently the largest fraternity, the most damaging one, is located in Algiers. Lord Exmouth, the commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean, plans to lead a fleet of English and Dutch ships against the pirates there. He means to destroy the base, if at all possible."
Pausing, Jason turned to Lauren. She hadn't said a single word since he had begun, nor had she even looked at him.
Cupping her face, he tilted it up. "I plan to be part of it, Lauren," Jason said quietly.
Lauren looked at him searchingly. "You are going to find Rafael," she said in a hoarse voice.
As Jason gazed down into her troubled eyes, he could see the gold flecks in the deep green pools were more pronounced. "Yes," he admitted, "but I have a purpose besides just finding Rafael. The pirates have long been a menace to Carlin shipping. None of our vessels has ever been captured because none sails alone, but some have been severely damaged. Men have been wounded and even killed. The situation cannot be allowed to continue."
"But you don't have to be the one to rectify it!" Lauren protested.
"I'm responsible for the safety of the Carlin Line," Jason said with a finality she could recognize. "And I can't sit back and allow others to fight my battles for me. I've ordered one of our fastest sloops, the Capricorn, outfitted with the newest munitions. She's a good ship. And Kyle will be with me. He and I have done this before, and we've always come out of it with nothing more than a few scratches."
"This isn't the same!" Lauren exclaimed despairingly. "You won't come home until you kill Rafael—or he kills you."
Jason sighed. "I made a promise, sweetheart, you know that." Seeing the worry in her eyes, though, he drew her close and rested his cheek against her golden hair. "I want you to stay at Effing Hall while I'm gone," he said quietly. "I believe you will like it there, and Aunt Agatha will provide company for you, if you wish."
Lauren bit back a sob. She wanted to beg Jason to stay in England where it was safe, but she couldn't force the words past the swelling in her throat. Besides, she knew he would never change his mind. "Oh, Jason!" she whispered. "Just come back to me. Just please come back."
Lauren feared for Jason, but a short while later her foreboding was overshadowed by a more immediate fear. That very afternoon she accompanied Lady Agatha to Bond Street, intending to purchase gifts for her friends in America. It had been uniquely heartwarming to see the look of pleasure on Lila's face upon receiving the silver jewel case, but Lauren hadn't had time to show her appreciation to anyone else before setting sail so abruptly.
As she left a silk mercers, Lauren suddenly came to an abrupt standstill. Across the busy street was a man dressed in seaman's blue, a man she recognized; she couldn't mistake the wizened face and bold eyes of Ned Sikes. And there was someone with him—an older woman, tall and strongly built. Lauren couldn't make out her features clearly, but she could feel the malevolence of the woman's gaze. It touched her as if no distance, no throng of vehicles and pedestrians separated them.
Strangely shaken, Lauren forced herself to enter the carriage. Yet she hardly heard a word of Lady Agatha's praise for the fabrics they'd found, and during the ride home, she could only listen mutely while Jason's aunt spoke about an orphanage she patronized.
Lauren didn't recall what excuses she made, but she managed to make her way upstairs to her room. After removing her gown, she stretched out on the bed to rest, but she couldn't close her eyes. Something was about to happen, she knew. She felt an almost overwhelming sense of dread. It was like she was standing at the edge of a precipice, overlooking a deep, dark chasm. She was expected to jump, or would be pushed. . . .
The knock on her door startled her. When a maid entered, bearing a silver salver, Lauren stared at the folded scrap of paper as if it were a coiled snake. This was what she had been anticipating.
Unable to breathe, Lauren dismissed the servant. Her hands trembled as she broke the seal and read the brief, shattering message:
My darling niece, Andrea,
Meet me at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, Hyde Park. Take the footpath which leads from the north gate. Come alone and do not mention this to your husband.
We have much to discuss, you and I.
Your loving aunt, Regina
It was some little while before Lauren became aware of her surroundings again. Only then did she realize that she had moved to sit at her dressing table and was staring at her reflection. Her complexion was stark white, her eyes enormous in her pale face.
Tearing her gaze away, Lauren looked down at the flowered twig in her hand. She must have picked it up while walking through the garden with Jason and then carried it up to her room. Why she had saved it, she didn't know, for it was only the thorny stem of a rosebush. It wasn't even pretty, for the single, tiny bud was now lifeless and brittle.
It had no meaning for her . . . or did it? Somehow it reminded her of how barren her life had been before Jason had found her again. Had she ever truly been alive before then? He had filled her with love, with hope, with their child. For a short moment in time she had been totally, deliriously happy. And now that happiness would be ripped from her like some vital appendage.
With slow deliberation, Lauren closed her hand around the dry stalk, pressin
g the thorns into the fleshy part of her palm, wanting to feel the stinging pain. Her past had caught up with her, just like she had always known it would, just as she had always dreaded. Her protected haven had crumbled, just as the fragile petals were crumbling now in her hand.
A feeling of desolation swept over her as she watched the pinkish-gray powder rain slowly to the carpet. Not surprisingly, she found she couldn't stop the violent trembling of her body.
Chapter Twenty-four
Except for several children playing under the close supervision of their respective nurses, the park was deserted at the appointed hour of Lauren's meeting. The lovely summer morning was quiet—so quiet that the scrape of her footsteps on the gravel path seemed abnormally loud.
Lauren would have liked nothing better than to turn and run, but she had to face Regina and find out what the woman knew. If a scandal were about to break over her head, she would have to leave England at once. That might not prevent dishonor to the Stuart name, but at least it would spare Jason the disgrace of having a wife in prison.
The previous night, Lauren had been afraid Jason would guess something was wrong, yet she couldn't prevent herself from clinging to him, not knowing whether she would ever even see him again. There had been a poignant quality to their lovemaking that was almost unbearable.
Evidently, though, Jason hadn't noted anything amiss. He had merely held her tightly, saying nothing, only offering silent comfort. It had been a stroke of good fortune that he had left the house early that morning, intending to finalize plans for his upcoming voyage. Lauren had ordered the carriage, thinking that it was wise not to arouse suspicion by setting out alone on foot. Once in the park, she had bid the coachman to walk the horses while she went for a stroll.
Her footsteps lagged as she approached the north gate. She could only conclude that Regina was late, for there was no sign of anyone.
Then a woman, the same one who had stared at her with such hatred the previous day, stepped out from behind a chestnut tree. Lauren came to an abrupt halt, her immediate impulse to run from the hostile gray eyes that were scrutinizing her so closely. She shivered, feeling cold all over.
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