An Undomesticated Wife (14 page)

“Even when I speak the truth!” she fired back.

He swore under his breath as he strode toward the door between their rooms. The door slammed so hard behind him that the whole wall quivered.

“I shall not shame you,” she said to the closed door. Lifting her chin so that her tears would not overflow, she repeated the vow over and over, although she knew that, even if he had heard, he would not believe her.

Regina was certain she had never seen such a beautiful room. The ceiling was scalloped with plaster friezes to accent the silk and gilt on the walls. Over the hum of conversation, light music lilted an invitation to join the people dancing. It was a glorious assembly, and she was miserable.

She wrung her gloved hands together to keep from rubbing them against white gauze gown that had been delivered from Mme. LaPorte's shop only that afternoon. It was the most stunning dress she had ever seen, and she marveled at the rows of ruching that began at her knees and the van-dyking along the hem. Pale pink stripes were like a glowing shadow against the white. She only wished she could complete her elegant ensemble with a smile.

“May I be the last to congratulate the bride?” asked a deep voice.

She found a sincere smile as she exclaimed, “Benjamin! What a delight to see you!”

Tugging on his black coat that he wore over a white waistcoat and breeches, he chuckled. “Now that's an enthusiastic greeting from someone who should be the center of attention. What are you doing hiding in a corner?”

“Watching the dancing.” That was partly the truth, and she had no intention of spilling the rest of it. If she was to breathe even a hint that she was trying to avoid Marcus, who had said nothing to her since their discussion last night, everyone in the room would be agog with gossip.

“You should not be just watching,” Benjamin said graciously. “You should be dancing.”

“I am afraid I do not waltz well.”

“Look, Regina, they are lining up for a country dance.” He smiled as he offered his arm. “I know how well you dance those, for I taught you, if you will recall.”

“The night of Mrs. Elspeth's farewell party, wasn't it?”

He drew her hand within his arm and led her out into the center of the room. “You could have been no more than ten.”

“I was twelve!”

With a laugh, he said, “You must have pestered me to dance with you for a week before the party. I relented, then learned that you had no idea how to dance, so I had no choice, being the kind soul that I am, but to teach you.”

“I was a good student.”

“Excellent.” His mustache tipped with his smile. “At everything I ever taught you.”

Regina laughed as she stood across from him and waited for the music to begin anew. Thank goodness for Benjamin! The night might not be such a disaster, after all, as long as she had dear friends like him.

“An excellent party, Lady Neal,” Marcus said as he paused to speak with his hostess.

The short woman, whose fleshy curves had long ago given up any semblance of a shape, smiled. “My boy, after all the lovely kindnesses your grandmother has done for this family, it is a small thing to present you and your bride to the Polite World. Where is Regina? I had time only to say a few words to her in the reception line.”

He searched the room, looking for her reddish blond curls which had been topped by roses and a spray of pearls across her forehead. Astonishment taunted him when he realized he had no idea what color gown she was wearing. She had been cloaked in a blue velvet cape that covered her from chin to toe when he had handed her into the carriage.

“I do not seem to see her,” he said reluctantly.

“Who are you looking for?” asked his grandmother as she came to join them. Bending, she kissed Lady Neal on the cheek. “Agatha, my dear, you look lovely, and the party is, as yours always are, splendid.”

“Marcus seems to have misplaced his bride,” Lady Neal replied.

“Oh, dear, that is most careless of him.” The dowager duchess waved a fan decorated with the same lace as on her white gown. “Marcus, you usually are more prudent.”

“She is somewhere in the room.” He tried to keep exasperation out of his voice.

“She should be on your arm.”

His grandmother's words irritated him, mostly because he agreed with them. Regina had lost little time in losing herself among the throng. Even to the most obtuse guest, it must be clear that Lady Daniston wished to evade her husband. A most inauspicious beginning to their life among the elite.

The dowager duchess continued, “I do recall seeing her dancing with Major—Mr. Sheldon. I thought it was generous of you, Marcus, to allow her to take a spin about the floor with a family friend before she danced with you.”

“I did not—”

“There she is!” crowed Lady Neal, pointing a pudgy finger to the left.

Marcus turned and stared in amazement at his wife. Not only was she a vision in her new gown—he had to concur with his grandmother that Mme. LaPorte could work miracles—but she was talking with Lord Liverpool and Lord Castlereagh as if they were the dearest of bosom bows. The Prime Minister and the viscount who oversaw the Foreign Office seemed to be listening intently to her, and as he came closer, he realized she was speaking with confidence about the volatile situation in the Mediterranean.

“The Barbary pirates will heed no government's rule, mayhap not even their own,” Regina said with a sad smile. “Papa has expressed his concerns to the Dey on more than one occasion, but the Dey seems anxious to ignore the impending problem.”

“The Dey still controls the ships sailing from his harbors?” asked Lord Liverpool.

“Only somewhat. The corsairs have always followed a law of their own, and I cannot believe that those pirates would resist a fair prize simply because the Dey commands them to give it safe passage.”

Lord Castlereagh's full brows arched. “Disturbing, most disturbing.”

“Papa's reports can give you more information, my lord,” Regina said quickly. “When I left Algiers, he assured me that he believed English interests would triumph in this situation.”

“Of course,” the viscount said, as if surprised she would even consider any other alternative. “After having put the French back within their borders, we have shown that we will allow no despot or foreign emperor to halt British shipping.”

“I urge you to heed Papa's warning to watch the situation closely.”

Lord Liverpool asked, “Your warning as well, Lady Daniston?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall doubly heed it.”

When the Prime Minister looked past her, Regina turned. Marcus saw astonishment and other, stronger emotions flash through her volatile eyes. Wishing he could capture a single one of those fervent feelings and drape it around him in a wave of pleasure, he pulled his gaze from hers and nodded to the two gentlemen.

“My lords,” Regina said, “I trust you know Lord Daniston.”

Lord Liverpool smiled. “Thank you, Daniston, for allowing us the company of your charming wife. It is refreshing to be granted an eyewitness account of the turbulence in the Mediterranean.” To Regina, he added, “I anticipate eagerly the chance to read your father's report, and I assume I may forward any questions I have to you, madam.”

“I shall endeavor to answer them to the best of my ability.”

Bowing over her hand, he said, “After our conversation, I have no doubts on that.” He nodded toward Marcus. “Daniston.”

Marcus watched as Lord Castlereagh kissed Regina's gloved hand, then turned to follow the Prime Minister deeper into the ballroom. When Marcus glanced at his wife, he noticed her eyes were glowing as he had never seen them. A burst of something decidedly repugnant rippled through him. He refused to own that it might be jealousy, but he could not deny that Regina was happier than at any time since she had arrived in Berkeley Square.

When she clapped her hands together, he was startled. He was even more astounded when she laughed like a young girl. Not once had he heard such a joyous sound from her.

“How pleased Papa will be!” she said, muting her excitement so the words did not reach beyond his ears. “He has admired Lord Liverpool for many years.”

Regina gasped when Marcus drew her back into the corner, away from the eddies of guests swirling around the room. Seeing the firm set of his lips, she sighed. Apparently she had already done something to distress him. If only she could explain the truth to him! She would have been so happy to make him happy if he could only accept her as she was.

“There have been questions,” he said as he grasped her arms and brought her to face him, “about why my bride is not at my side.”

“Did you tell them that you were afraid that I would shame you if I spent any time in your company?”

His mouth worked before he spat, “You already have!”

“By talking with the guests? Marcus, really! I thought you were afraid I would prove that I have no social graces. Why can't you own that you were mistaken? Lord Liverpool and Lord Castlereagh enjoyed our conversation.”

“A woman should concern herself with matters of her hearth instead of matters of diplomacy.”

She would have stepped away, but his hands tightened on her. “I am glad that Papa did not share your narrow view of a woman's place in this world,” she said.

“But you are my wife now.”

“True,” she fired back, not letting his cold tone daunt her. Trying to twist away, she said, “And it will cause more talk than you wish if it is noted that you are holding me prisoner here.”

“Relax,” he said, smiling, but his eyes still glittered dangerously. “You have nothing to fear from me when we are amidst my friends.”

“Does that mean there is a time when I should fear you?”

“The only thing you need to fear for is your mind when I bring you to our marital bed. It may be torn asunder with rapture.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” His lips found hers eagerly.

Her protest dissolved in her throat as a storm of sensations exploded within her. Lightning hot, as powerful as a crash of thunder, the need he aroused refused to be ignored and demanded to be satisfied. Her fingers slipped up the back of his black coat, delighting in the texture of the wool and the strong muscles beneath. As he pressed her against the wall, the firm breadth of his chest brushed her on every inhalation. She wanted to be closer, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart.

When he raised his mouth from hers, the rasp of her breath was loud in her ears. She looked up into his eyes which were glazed with the longing aching inside her. A devilish smile curved along his mouth.

“Can you doubt me
now?
”

“Here they are!” The dowager duchess's voice rang through the room, and Regina was sure every guest turned to stare in their direction. “Such devotion! Isn't it just wonderful?” Without pausing, she went on, “Regina, Lady Neal wishes to speak with you.”

“Please tell her,” Marcus answered before Regina could, “that Regina will be with her in a moment.”

The dowager duchess nodded. Regina did not see her walk away because Marcus turned her to face him again.

“Before you go, Regina, a word of advice.”

She was astounded by the sudden change in his voice. Only moments ago he had been wooing her with soft whispers. Now his words lashed her with barely repressed fury.

“You should be circumspect,” he continued, “with any flirtations you might wish to enjoy. I want no one to question the paternity of my heir.”

“Flirtations?”

“With Sheldon.”

She was not sure whether she should be shocked or outraged. She chose the latter. “Do not be anxious on that matter. I know that I must be cautious when speaking to a gentleman friend, even though you may parade your convenient about London openly.” Pulling away from him, she said, “I wish you a good evening, my lord.”

Marcus struck his palm with his fist as she vanished among the guests again. Damn her and her peculiar ways! Once dinner was served and the formalities of introducing Regina to the
ton
were completed, he would send a footman scurrying for a hired carriage. Let Regina return home to her cold, empty bed. He would have his pleasure tonight with Jocelyn, who spoke of nothing more complicated than which pair of gloves to wear with which dress.

Eleven

“At the very least, she should wear some of the lace from her mother's gown.”

Regina tried to concentrate on her book and pay no attention to the continuing debate between the dowager duchess and Aunt Elayne. How she longed to tell them that being at outs with one another about her wedding dress was a waste of time! She did not want to have a wedding—of any kind. She wanted to return to Algiers and Papa's house. Then she would not have to think about her husband, who had left her to return alone from Lord and Lady Neal's hurricane last night.

“But that lace will be a different shade and style from what Mme. LaPorte is using,” the dowager duchess answered.

“Tradition is important in my family.”

“Having my granddaughter-in-law not appear as a laughingstock is important to
my
family!”

“Then allow me to have her mother's dress remade for her. She will look lovely then.”

“She must—”

Regina stood and snapped, “Be done with this dagger-drawing!” As both women stared at her in amazement, she raised her hands. “I shall wear what I please. I shall not have Marcus telling me what to wear, and I shall not have
you
either!”

“Regina …”

She did not stay to hear what the dowager duchess had to say. Running out of the room, she took the steps two at a time, not caring about her unseemly behavior. She slowed in the foyer to call to Gardner. As soon as he appeared, she asked him to have a carriage brought.