by Golden Angel
"Oh, I'm not serious about any of these young ladies," his mother said, her light laughter not at all reassuring. "Although after Miss Whyte is presented, you might think of taking another look at her, I'm sure she'll have matured by the next Season. I'm just getting my hand in, ensuring that I'm up to snuff for next Season."
"Next Season?"
"Well of course. I fully expect Cynthia to make a match before then, which means that I'll be free next Season to concentrate entirely on you." She beamed at him, as if her words weren't the foretelling of doom to come. "After all, you are the Earl now and there is the succession to consider."
Good Lord, he could actually feel the walls closing in about him. "There's no need to concern yourself with the succession just yet, Mother, I have plenty of time. There's Mathew and Vincent after all."
"Your brothers don't want to be the Earl," she said with a sniff. "Even if either of them were suited to it. No, Matthew's army mad and Vincent's obsessed with art and living abroad. They'll be reassured to hear of your marriage and subsequent heir."
There really wasn't an argument against that, as she was completely right. Wesley cast about for some other excuse.
"I'm sure I can manage the business on my own, Mama, as much as I appreciate your intentions."
"Not from what I hear about your acquaintances," she said, her tone making it clear that the gossip of his various female acquaintances - none of which could be considered marriagable - had definitely reached his mother. "You'll need me to help you make the right sort of connections for that. But don't worry, I'm going to spend the next year gathering as much information as I can so that we can go into next Season quite prepared!"
Feeling as though the floor was decidedly tilted, Wesley stumbled through the last few steps of the dance, earning a reproving look from the Countess as he tripped over his feet. Although it was quite a bit of time away, next Season suddenly seemed to loom far too closely. He couldn't even quit London and retreat to his estates to avoid his mother and her schemes; there were too many of his responsibilities now tied up there and he would need to be present for Parliament regardless, not to mention that he didn't doubt his mother would find some way to coerce his presence even if he balked.
Unable to stomach dancing with another empty headed chit after his mother's pronouncement, he stole Eleanor for the next dance and then managed to procure another dance with Cynthia. At least he could talk to them. By the time his dance with Eleanor finished he was feeling a bit more like himself although she was looking at him a bit curiously.
Cynthia, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any hesitations about questioning him.
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, peering at him as if she didn't recognize him. Actually, he was feeling much better now that he was dancing with her, having successfully avoided his mother again, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
"Quite."
"You don't look as though you are. Although you're decidedly less pale than when you were dancing with your mother," Cynthia said. Wesley had to laugh. When it came to polite conversation his ward was abysmal, but she was entertaining. Then again, he found it rather refreshing that she didn’t languish behind miss-ish airs, and most other gentleman probably did too.
"My mother... my mother..."
"Is making you dance."
"Yes."
"Don't you like dancing?"
"It depends upon the partner."
She seemed to think that over for the next few steps as they went apart and then came back together.
"Do you like dancing with me, or did you only ask me because I'm not as bad as the young ladies your mother is choosing for you?"
Wesley had to laugh. Brazen, that's what she was. A young lady should never ask such a direct question. "Dancing with you is utterly preferable to dancing with them."
"That's an evasion, not an answer," she said, frowning up at him.
"Clever baggage."
"Well fine then, I don't want to talk to you either." And with that, she put her nose in the air, barely looking at him as she gracefully made her way through the steps.
Which only made Wesley want to make her talk again.
"What kind of man do you want to marry?"
Silence.
"Cynthia."
She looked at him in a rather significant way and he sighed.
"I asked you to dance both because I didn't want to dance with another one of those useless chits and also because I like dancing with you. You're quite graceful you know."
The brilliant smile he received in return made something inside his chest do a strange flip even as his breeches tightened in front.
"I'd like to marry a man who doesn't bore me."
"Is that hard to find?"
"Yes and no. I've met quite a few men who don't bore me, but none of them seem interested in marriage."
This time Wesley growled in response to her smile. She didn't even seem upset at the fact that she obviously attracted men who wouldn't make her a respectable offer. Just amused and possibly slightly interested. Well she would have to wait to accept carte blanche from any of them until after he found her a husband. Although if he found her one that didn't bore her, then perhaps she wouldn't even be inclined to.
"Aggravating baggage," he said, although his tone wasn't severe at all. Cynthia just smiled brightly at him again, her cheeks flush with happiness.
******
Later that night, in his study, Wesley studied the glass of brandy in his hand rather than sipping from it. He'd poured himself the alcohol, but had yet to drink a single drop, although the current subject of his thoughts certainly merited it.
Marriage.
And it looked that if he was to have any choice in his bride, he must do so before next Season. Who knew what young ladies his mother might consider appropriate for the position of his Countess if tonight was anything to go by. The Miss Whyte's of the world drove him batty, it was part of the reason he'd assiduously avoided the marriage mart at all costs while in London. Even though he was newly an Earl, it seemed the ton had understood that he wouldn't be looking for a bride during his first Season back from India.
Next Season, with his mother in town, it would be completely different. Young ladies would be loath to pass up the opportunity to be a Countess, especially to an Earl who didn't need their dowry as an influx of cash. And his mother's presence, and encouragement, would only exacerbate matters. It wouldn't just be his mother's machinations he would have to be wary of, but all the matrons and young ladies of the ton.
Did his mother really think he'd be happy settling down with one of those bird brained, conniving, marriage hungry misses? He adroitly dismissed the fact that he'd been thinking along those lines originally, because he'd been thinking about that in the far distant future.
But now that he was realizing he might need to move sooner rather than later, he couldn't quite reconcile himself to the idea.
Especially when Cynthia kept popping up into his mind. Cynthia and that slick, musky wetness that her body had produced despite - or perhaps because of? - her spanking. Just thinking about it caused his cock to swell. She didn't want a husband who bored her... well, that was as good a criteria to go on as any. Wesley knew that he wouldn't bore her. And he didn't think that she would bore him.
Hell, just this morning he'd been considering something along those lines, based on nothing more than his attraction to her and the wetness of her quim after being punished. And he'd decided against it, but that was before he'd known his mother's plans.
If he had to choose a bride, and soon, he could do worse than a chit who, at least, entertained him. Made him laugh. And it was damned hard to keep his hands off her anyway.
The notion merited serious contemplation. Wesley swirled the contents of his brandy glass around, watching the amber depths as they sloshed back and forth. Edwin had married for love, Hugh had married for land - although it had obviously turned into something more, so he would marry for..
. what? Lust?
Maybe. Perhaps he could convince his mother to set aside her plans for at least another year, take some time to think.
Although, by that time Cynthia would be married off if his mother had anything to say about it. Wesley brought the snifter up to his mouth and drained it.
Chapter 8
Irene was so glad that the Season was coming to a close. She was looking forward to returning to the countryside with Hugh. The Duchess of Richmond's ball was everything she disliked about London society - it was an absolute crush, too loud, too packed and the odor left a great deal to be desired - but it was one of those events that everyone must attend. Which accounted for the great number of people sipping tepid, watered down lemonade and eating stale pastries as the night wore on.
Even worse were the number of alluring, sophisticated and flirtatious ladies who filled the capital. While her mother had impressed upon Irene that it was commonplace among the ton for a man and wife to have relations with others outside of their marriages, she hadn't realized how much it would directly affect her. At the time she'd thought it was something to be desired, because she thought that she and Alex would finally be able to be together in some manner.
Now that she realized she loved Alex in a completely different manner than she loved her husband, the idea of Hugh enjoying intimacies with a woman outside of their marriage was terrifying and painful. At first she hadn't even realized it might be a possibility, but it seemed there were far too many married ladies who would be happy to pry Hugh away from the side of his delicate wife. Many of them had bought the story of her fainting in the gardens (thankfully not realizing the truth of the matter), and they assumed that Hugh would want to enjoy relations with a woman who was more robust. More sensual.
Several rakes had looked her way as well, but somehow Hugh had managed to make it clear that he was not going to be a complacent husband and those men had taken their attentions elsewhere. From what she understood from Hugh's mutterings, they thought she was with child and so would be safe to dally with. Another repercussion of her "faint" in the gardens. However, he was showing himself to be protective enough over her that they were more interested in easier game.
Irene didn't mind that, of course. She certainly hadn't known how to deal with the flirtations of the Earl of Sunderland or Viscount Bowlen. But she did mind that the women were proving to be remarkably tenacious in their pursuit of Hugh. Every time Irene was separated by her husband at an event, when they found each other again he always had managed to attach some harpy to his person. It was enough to make Irene want to tear out their elaborately coiffed hair.
But tonight she hadn't been able to avoid a visit to the retiring room. The lemonade might be tepid and watered down, but she'd been thirsty enough to drink it anyway. And Hugh had said they couldn't quit for the evening yet; apparently one must always stay a certain amount of time at the more important events, which this was.
Not for the first time, she desperately wished that she had never planned to run away with Eleanor and that her sister-in-law was still in London.
Catching sight of her husband's golden head of hair through the crowd, Irene breathed a sigh of relief and began making her way over to him. At least Hugh was tall enough that she could usually find him fairly easily, even in a crush like this.
It wasn't until she was closer that she saw the dark head of a lady with her head tilted back, simpering up at him. Irene's breath caught in her throat, nearly strangling her. This was so, so much worse than any of the random ladies whom Irene merely had a passing acquaintance with; this particular lady had just cause to want to do Irene as much harm as possible.
When Lady Grace had pulled her aside and quietly set her down for her behavior with Alex, Irene had haughtily told the new wife that she and Alex were long-time friends, that there were more feelings between them than Lady Grace would understand, and that she certainly would not change the way she acted towards Alex just because he was married. Now, as a wife herself and with her new understanding of what it was like to be married to a man that was much sought after by other ladies, Irene realized that she felt guilty about the way she’d behaved. No wonder Lady Grace hadn’t liked her after that. Irene certainly hadn’t given her any cause to.
Although it still didn’t excuse Lady Grace’s awful behavior towards Alex, mere days later, and the way she’d betrayed her marriage vows. The way she gallivanted throughout the ton, causing scandal along the way and humiliating Alex. He deserved better than Lady Grace; Irene’s viewpoint on that certainly hadn’t changed. But it didn’t seem to affect the guilt that swept through her either.
Irene had never expected to see the lady here, at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, flirting with her own husband. Beautiful, accomplished Lady Grace, who, despite the scandal, was one of the most sophisticated and sought after ladies of the ton. Who had already stolen one man away from Irene - even if now she knew she didn't really want him. Irene absolutely did want Hugh and she was perfectly willing to fight for him.
"There you are," Hugh said, smiling as Irene hurried up to them, out of breath from practically running headlong through the crowd. "I was just telling Grace that you were here, somewhere."
She bristled at Hugh's easy use of Lady Grace's given name, even knowing that his sister was a longtime friend. "How nice to see you, Lady Grace," Irene lied, her voice cold.
"Viscountess," Lady Grace said, her stunning blue eyes glinting with a cruel light. The intonation she gave the title only emphasized the fact that Irene never, ever, called her Lady Brooke. Tilting her head back towards Hugh, she shared a decidedly intimate look with him. "I've just been having the most... delightful chat with Hugh." The sensual purr she used to say Hugh's name had Irene's hackles climbing.
Either her husband didn't notice anything or he didn't care, because he just smiled back at the horrible woman.
"How nice of you to keep him company while I was away," Irene said, her tone implying that now she was there, Lady Grace need not continue to do so.
"Oh but of course, I'm always happy to have a talk with one of my oldest friends," Lady Grace said, laughing merrily. She'd stressed the last two words, making it clear to Irene that this closeness to Hugh, this relationship with him, was giving her great vindication for Irene's treatment of her when she'd married one Irene's oldest friends. A reiteration of Irene’s words that marriage was not going to change the way she treated Alex. The irony was not lost on Irene, although she didn't have any idea what to do about it.
Anger, true anger like she'd never felt before, was building up in her breast, making her feel flushed all over. Even the guilt was feeding into her anger, because she didn’t want to feel it and she didn’t want to feel any sympathy for Lady Grace.
"It's always nice to see you as well, Grace," Hugh said amiably, smiling down at her. Irene was going to claw those sapphire eyes out, she really was. And tear out all that long, luxuriant dark hair. Lady Grace had the kind of effortless, stunning beauty that Irene had always envied. Just another reason to dislike the woman. "I know Nell will be gladdened to hear that you were here tonight."
Lady Grace's smile turned a little brittle before she returned it to its usual sparkle. "I do miss Nell so. I may visit her once the Season is over." Which, of course, would deprive Irene of her sister-in-law's company. Leaning in towards Hugh, Lady Grace leaned forward in such a way that nearly completely exposed her bosom; Irene couldn't even imagine how much of a view her tall husband was getting of the woman's well-rounded breasts. "Will you be spending any time with Eleanor and Lord Hyde in the coming months? If so, I'll have to ensure our visit coincides."
The little look that she flashed Irene's way made it clear that this was for her benefit. All of it.
Something hot and awful flashed through Irene, and she found herself lunging at Grace before she even realized what she was doing. Her fingers caught up in the other woman's dress, hooking into the fabric, before Hugh's arms were suddenly around her, yan
king her away. The sudden ripping sound of Grace's dress left them all gaping. There was a large hole in the lace overgown, right at the waistline, where Irene's fingers had managed to find purchase.
"What is wrong with you?! You... you..."
Oh no... Hugh's arms tightened Irene as if he was afraid she might launch herself at Lady Grace again, but she'd already regained control over her impulses. Enough so to be mortified as people around them began to turn, staring at the wreck that Irene had made of Lady Grace's skirt and the mottled red of her face as she glared furiously at Irene.
"Grace!"
Alex suddenly shoved his way through the crowd of on-lookers, causing more than one lady to gasp and begin to fan herself in anticipation of this latest on dit. They might not be sure exactly how Lady Brooke's dress had become torn, but it was common knowledge that Lord and Lady Brooke hadn't exchanged a single word in years, despite the fact that they'd recently been making appearances at the same events.
At nearly the exact same time, Lord Conyngham, rumored to be Grace's current lover, pushed through the crowd across from Alex, ending up next to Grace. The lady took one, wild, look at her husband and immediately turned to the arms of her lover, who turned her around so that their backs were to Lord Brooke and Conyngham began to push his way back through the crowd.
"Excuse us," Irene could hear Lord Conyngham saying. "Lady Brooke needs to use the retiring room." And then they were gone, disappeared into the crowd, leaving Alex looking after them and everyone else looking at him.
It was moments like that which should have made Irene feel justified in her past words to Lady Grace. Seeing the utter blankness on Alex's face, she knew that he was covering some kind of very deep emotion as he watched his wife walk away in the arms of another man. She should have wanted to say something even worse to the woman. But having seen Lady Grace so blatantly flirting with Hugh and then paling at the sight of her own husband, to the point where she'd looked like a ghost, Irene suddenly felt cast adrift.
