The Obedient Bride

by Mary Balogh

  She did not know why she was surprised. Theodore was a good-looking and personable young man, after all. She had somehow expected to see him alone in a corner, brooding and dejected.

  Really she had not been paying much attention to what went on around her. Since Mr. Browning had been borne off by a loud aunt, she had been deep in conversation with Mr. Lincoln and assuring him yet again that his limp alone was not likely to make Miss Pope completely scorn his suit. Of course, she had been careful to explain, perhaps Miss Pope would not encourage him either, but that would have nothing to do with his leg. It was foolish to be so conscious of a small handicap that one would not even try to become acquainted with someone one admired.

  Arabella found it easy to sympathize with people who had little confidence in themselves. She knew exactly how they felt. Poor Mr. Lincoln had been languishing after the quite plain and ordinary Miss Pope since the start of the Season, yet could never summon the courage to talk to her or invite her out for a ride as he did with perfect ease with Arabella. And Mr. Browning was quite convinced that no one could take him seriously as a gentleman when he looked for all the world like a schoolboy. She had advised him to take up some manly sport like boxing—she had even offered to ask his lordship if he would befriend him and be his sparring partner on occasion. Mr. Browning had been horrified.

  But she could not be impatient with either one of these two friends. She was like them in many ways. She was only just beginning to realize that her small stature, her plain looks, and her childish features did not therefore make her a person of no account. She had not found that she had made fewer friends than Frances or any of the other ladies around her. Ladies did not scorn her; gentlemen did not shun her. And it was true what his lordship had said on one occasion: there are no perfect people; we all have to make the most of our assets. Of course, there were some people who were very nearly perfect, like his lordship himself, for example, but really they were not many.

  Her attempts to be more confident and more friendly with her husband had not prospered well in the last two days, but they would, she assured herself. He would see that she was no longer the timid, dull Arabella he had married, and he would like her better. And he would see soon that she looked more grown-up and feminine than she had when he married her. He might not realize that the reason was that she had lost weight, but he would notice the result. She had had her maid take in the seams of several of her favorite garments already.

  There was this strange mood of his, of course. She felt a dull ache of something low in her stomach when she thought of it. But she would not think of it for this evening, or brood on the fact that he had not come with her after saying almost certainly two days before that he would. The mood would pass. After all, she could not even say that it was a bad mood. He had been kind to her that afternoon at Kew. And he had spoken gently to her in her bedchamber the night before and had kissed her for the first time—oh, splendid moment! She had wondered for weeks what his mouth would feel like against her own. And now she knew that it felt quite as good as she had imagined. But there was something, something disturbing.

  Arabella smiled brightly and crossed the room to join Theodore, who was standing and bowing as Lady Harriet moved away.

  "Hello, puss," he said with a grin. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

  "Yes, I am," she said. "And you really ought not to call me that now, you know, Theo. I am a married lady and quite grown-up. I nearly died when you used that name in his lordship's hearing."

  "Did you?" he said. "I am sorry to have wounded your dignity. I could never have imagined you with such an air of consequence. So what is it to be? 'Arabella'? 'Bella'? Lady Astor'? 'My lady'? 'Ma'am'?"

  She tapped him on the arm with her fan. " 'Bella' will do nicely," she said. "Only his lordship is to call me 'Arabella.' Oh, and Lady Berry does too, of course." She sat down in the place recently vacated by Lady Harriet, and he joined her.

  "I am pleased to see you cutting such a dash, Bella," he said. "And your mama will be pleased too. I think she does not quite believe your letters. She is convinced that you are putting the best face on a bad situation."

  "Nonsense," she said. "And so I shall tell Mama myself. His lordship is going to take me home for the summer, you know. He has business there."

  He smiled. "Frances is doing very well too," he said. "I knew she would, of course. I am glad that you and Lord Astor have given her the opportunity, puss."

  "Don't you mind?" she asked hesitantly. "I thought it would make you angry or sad, Theo, to see her so very popular."

  "Well, there you are wrong," he said. "I mean to marry Frances, Bella. And I mean it to be a love match and a happy marriage. How could we be happy when she has never tried her wings beyond Parkland? And how could she—or I—be sure she loved me if she had never had the chance to form an attachment to any other man?"

  "But what if she does not wish to return to Parkland? And what if she grows to love another man?" Arabella watched him with rounded eyes.

  "Then I have a choice," Theodore said. "I can crack her over the head with a club and drag her home by the hair or I can let her go. If she ever marries me, Bella—and I am confident that she will—she will do so because she freely wishes to do so. I would rather risk losing her than be married to a wife who thinks she might have done better for herself."

  "I am not sure I could be as wise," Arabella said. "I don't think I could risk losing his lordship. But why did you come to London yourself, Theo, if you wanted Frances to be free?"

  He shrugged. "I was restless and, frankly, I was afraid, puss," he said. "I had to give myself a reasonable excuse for coming, of course. Frances should see me as I look in this new world of hers. She should be able to make comparisons. She should be able to see, for example, that I am not quite as handsome as that milksop with her now, whose front teeth I would dearly like to plant in his throat."

  "Oh, Theo," Arabella said after a startled laugh, "you are ten times as handsome as Sir John Charlton, and Frances would have to be blind not to see it. And she had better see it because I refuse to have him for a brother-in-law. I want you."

  "Well," he said, grinning, "if I miss Frances, there is always Jemima, you know. Did you know she climbed a tree last week and stayed up there for three hours until your mama was ready to call out the militia, thinking her lost? She was afraid to come down, it seems. She might still be up there if the vicar had not heard her screeches as he rode down the lane. Wicked little hoyden! I had better marry Frances. If I married Jemima, I would doubtless turn into a wife-beater."

  "You had better not tell Frances that story," Arabella said, "or she will have a fit of the vapors and then soak ten handkerchiefs with her tears."

  They giggled like a pair of childish conspirators.

  "Do take me into the music room, Theo," Arabella said, "if you can bear to leave off your contemplation of Sir John's front teeth, that is. I am a respectable married lady, you know, and I should be able to say in all truth tomorrow that I listened to and appreciated the music."

  "Come on, then, puss," he said, getting to his feet, "though I don't think you will deceive anyone into seeing you as a staid and respectable matron. I must see the singer, anyway. I have heard that she is a quite delectable female."

  "You have no refinement of taste whatsoever, Theo," Arabella said, taking his arm and clucking her tongue. "It is a singer's voice that one is supposed to show interest in. Who is the lady, anyway?"

  "A Miss Virginia Cox," he said. "And I shall listen to her voice too, Bella. I promise on my honor as a gentleman."

  "Hm," Arabella said. "I remember you promised on that that time when you swore you would not let me fall off those wobbly stepping-stones into the stream."

  "And neither would I," he said, "if you had not bellowed out that you were going to fall and snatched your hand away from mine to saw at the air. Let us go see—and hear—Miss Cox, puss."

  Lord Astor dined alone at White's. He was feeling thoroughly bl
ue-deviled. He should have gone to Mrs. Pottier's soiree with Arabella, he thought. He had said he would. They had been married for less than three weeks, and he did not wish anyone to begin whispering that he had tired of his bride already. That would not be fair to her. And how could he expect her to grow easy with him and begin to like him if he did not spend his time with her?

  Besides, he wanted to be with her. Coping with his sister-in-law's tedious conversation and his wife's self-conscious attempts to converse with him was preferable to sitting alone at White's. Where was everyone tonight? Had there been some mass conspiracy to eat elsewhere?

  His thoughts irritated Lord Astor. Why should he not dine at his club? Why should he not plan an evening with his mistress, who was being paid handsomely to do less and less work? Why should he feel obliged to live in his wife's shadow? Other men did not. Indeed, he would become the laughingstock if he appeared everywhere she went. People would begin to think he was in love with her.

  He was going to have to take himself firmly in hand. He treated Arabella with perfect kindness. He had clothed her for a Season in London and made sure she was properly entertained. He bought her gifts. He had taken her about quite as much as anyone could expect. He had been indulgent with her. He had scolded her only once, over the matter of going out unescorted, and he had done so with restraint. Many men would have beaten their wives for less. And he was doing his best to get her with child. Perhaps by the next month she would be increasing. She would surely be happy then. He really had no reason whatsoever to feel guilty about his marriage.

  Lord Astor rose to his feet. He was going to visit Ginny without further delay. He was going to leave all thought of Arabella outside the door, and he was going to enjoy his mistress as he had enjoyed her for a full year before that damnable journey to Parkland. He would stay all night if he felt like doing so, and exhaust both himself and Ginny until there was no energy left for anything except blissful, dreamless sleep. He was not going to feel guilty. After all, he could not go to Arabella that night anyway, or for the four nights following. He would be depriving her of nothing.

  He was disappointed half an hour later to discover that Ginny was from home, singing at one of her musical entertainments. He had not thought of the possibility. He hesitated as the butler stood politely in the small tiled hallway of Ginny's house. It might be hours before she came home.

  But what were the alternatives? He could go home to an empty house or back to White's on the chance that some of his acquaintances would turn up. Or he could go to the soiree after all. And if he did, he thought, he would doubtless find Arabella surrounded by the gentlemen friends she seemed so comfortable with, and unable to grant him more than a self-conscious smile and flush.

  No, he would wait. At least he could be sure of commanding Ginny's undivided attention when she did come home. And at least he could unleash all his frustrations on her unprotesting and doubtless eager body. Ginny would not mind an energetic lovemaking. She would prefer it so. And he did not think he would have the energy to be gentle tonight.

  Lord Astor removed his hat and gloves, unbuttoned his greatcoat, and gave orders for brandy to be sent to the sitting room.

  "Miss Cox is very beautiful, I must admit," Arabella whispered to Theodore as the singer's performance came to an end. "It does not seem fair that some women are allowed to grow so tall and elegant. And she has a lovely face."

  "I thought you came to listen to her songs," he whispered back. "I must say she is everything I was led to expect in the breakfast parlor at Grillon's this morning. But she does not have nearly your air of breeding, Bella, if that is what is bothering you."

  "I don't like the way everyone is turning to talk among themselves and quite ignoring her," Arabella said, "just as if she were a servant. Perhaps she has been hired for the occasion, but for all that, her voice is vastly superior to any I have heard among people of the ton. We are all being decidedly rude, Theo. I believe I shall go and commend her on her performance."

  "I shall come with you if you must," Theodore said, his eyes twinkling. "That voice bears listening to at closer quarters."

  Arabella clucked her tongue and rose to her feet to find Lord Farraday almost upon her and reaching for her elbow.

  "Good evening, ma'am," he said. "I saw you earlier but have not had a moment to talk with you. They are serving supper immediately, I hear. May I lead you in?"

  Arabella smiled at him. "I saw you too, my lord," she said, "but I was having a particularly important conversation with Mr. Lincoln, and when I was finished, you had disappeared. I daresay you have been listening to the music. Did you not think Miss Cox's voice quite superior?"

  "Quite so," he said. "If we do not leave immediately, we will be at the back of the line and have to wait forever. May I have the pleasure?" He had a firm hold of her elbow. He was standing so close to her that she was almost forced to sit back down on her chair again.

  "Have you met my friend and neighbor from home, Sir—?" she began, but Lady Berry interrupted her, catching at her sleeve and saying something that Arabella could not hear over the hubbub of conversation around them. "Excuse me a moment. I must see what Lady Berry wants. I shall be glad to go in to supper with you, my lord, after I have commended Miss Cox on her singing."

  She edged her way past the two men until she could hear Lady Berry, who had merely been trying to draw her attention to the fact that supper was being served and that they should hurry if they wanted the best choice of food.

  When she turned back, Arabella found that a few people had moved between her and the two gentlemen, and everyone seemed bent on reaching the doorway and making his way to the supper room. She moved around behind some of them until she could worm her way between two large bodies, and reached up to tap Theodore on the shoulder. He was talking with Lord Farraday, both of them facing away from her and being jostled by guests eager for their supper.

  "She has a kind heart," Theodore was saying. "She thinks Virginia Cox is being treated too much like a servant."

  "We have to get her away from here," Lord Farraday said urgently. "Ginny is Astor's mistress, for the love of God. There is no time for talk. Where is Lady Astor, anyway? I have lost her in the crowd."

  Arabella made sure that she remained lost for a few seconds longer. When the two men spotted her a little way to one side of them, she smiled gaily.

  "One problem with being small," she said, "is that one is in danger of being trodden on. And no one would even notice me until the servants came in tomorrow to sweep up the night's debris. Are you going to take me to supper, my lord? Thank you." She laid a hand on Lord Farraday's sleeve. "And, Theodore, if you are not to be left all alone, I shall take your arm with my free one and be the envy of every lady present. At least with two such large gentlemen as bodyguards I may escape being squashed beneath someone's shoe."

  The two men exchanged a glance of relief over her head. She seemed to have forgotten her plan to commend the singer.

  "By the way, I did meet Sir Theodore last evening at the theater," Lord Farraday said to Arabella. "Had you forgotten."

  "Oh, forgive me, please," Arabella said, laughing merrily. Her eyes were sparkling. Her cheeks glowed with heightened color.

  "Geoffrey!" Ginny swept into her sitting room, hands outstretched. She looked quite magnificent, Lord Astor thought as he rose to his feet, her daringly low-cut evening gown showing off her figure to advantage, her hair piled high and set with waving plumes. Her painted lips smiled at him. "What a delightful surprise. You have not been here at night since your marriage."

  He took her hands. "You look lovely, Ginny," he said. "Did you have great success tonight? Were you in good voice?"

  "I believe so," she said. "The applause was more than just polite. I had one quite delightful pleasure."

  "Did you?" he said, and waited politely.

  "I shall tell you later," she said, reaching up to remove her plumes and pulling at the pins that held her hair up. "Are you hungry, Geoff
rey? I shall not keep you waiting for long. And you may have the pleasure of watching me disrobe. I know you always enjoy that. Unless you would prefer to do it yourself, that is." She smiled and twirled before him as she ran her hands through her hair and shook it free about her shoulders. "I am ravenous, I would have you warned."

  He sat back on his chair and linked his hands behind his head. He watched her undress. She was quite voluptuously beautiful, her breasts generous and heavy, her hips and thighs shapely. Her fair hair hung, curled and disheveled, halfway to her waist. She was what he needed more than anything else that night. He rose to his feet and opened his arms to her as she came to him.

  "Geoffrey," she said, her voice throaty with desire, "undress too. You cannot know how glad I am you came tonight."

  He held her against him and felt desire for her grow in him. She was almost as tall as he. She felt very different from Arabella. Not that he had ever held Arabella against him. But he had lain on her. She was very tiny, but she was warmly and softly feminine. She always made him feel protective. He wanted to be gentle with Arabella. He could never forget the world around him and abandon himself to his own pleasure with her. He was always conscious of the still, submissive body beneath his own. He was always aware that it was the marriage act he performed with her.

  He did not want to think of Arabella. It was Ginny he needed tonight. He found her mouth with his and proceeded to explore her with eager hands. He pressed her more closely against him as he recalled the soft warmth of Arabella's lips beneath his own the night before.

  "Ah, Geoffrey." Ginny was stretched out on the bed beside him in the adjoining bedchamber much later, her head in the crook of his arm. "What a wonderful lover you are. I declare you will quite spoil me for all others."

  "Mm," he said, gazing at the canopy over their heads.

  "You are going to stay all night?" she asked. "I swear that by morning I will be too exhausted to get out of bed. Will you mind?" She looked across at him archly.