DARE THE WILD WIND (36 page)

Brenna smiled at the woman next to Lady Bennington.  "It's not a custom we follow in
Scotland, but Dancer is a hunter."

She felt the warning pressure of Drake's hand on her arm.   "My wife can take a horse over any fence, but as she pointed out, women don't ride to the hunt in
Scotland any more than in England."

Brenna felt as if he'd rapped her on the knuckles.  "Perhaps it's time we did," she said with a dangerous tilt of her chin.  She slanted a quick glance at Drake.  "Unless, of course, the gentlemen fear we'll leave them in the dust."

There was a small astonished silence, and Brenna saw Drake's mouth tighten at her deliberate gaffe.

"What a bold spirit you are," Lady Bennington remarked, bu
t her expression was appalled. 

"And how romantic of you to carry off such a beauty in the midst of so much turmoil and strife," she said to Drake.  "Your bride must meet the rest of my guests, and tell everyone how your paths crossed in
Scotland."

Brenna was thankful to be passed with Drake down the receiving line.  And aware of Drake's anger under his cool veneer of charm.  He said nothing until they had briefly paid their respects to Theodora and sidestepped the other guests eager to greet them.

"What possessed you to bait the woman?" he demanded.  "I thought you came here to get the best of these gossiping hags."

"Perhaps you should have instructed me," Brenna said.  "You plainly didn't want me to confess to anything as scandalous as setting Dancer after the hounds."

"I see no purpose in feeding fresh rumor to the mill," he said shortly. 

Brenna glared up him.  "Then you admit it.  You didn't want to come tonight because of me.  You were afraid I'd disgrace you."

He wheeled to confront her, his face cold and angry.  "If I cringed at idle talk, I'd never have married you."   Brenna recoiled, but he made no attempt to soften what he'd said.  He bowed stiffly and formally over her hand. 

"Since you seem so determined to joust with these harpies, I'll leave you to your sport."

To her shock, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her alone in the crowded ballroom as the musicians struck up the first quadrille.  Every eye in the room was on her.  Then, in a matter of seconds, a ruddy
cheeked Falstaff of a man claimed the first dance, and a knot of men quickly surrounded her, clamoring to pen their names on her dance card.  Her notoriety had one advantage.  Drake might scorn her, but she wouldn't lack for partners.  But a weak and childish part of her would have far preferred that Drake had led her out in the first quadrille.

The stately glide of court dances gave way to livelier country airs, and at last Brenna had to beg off to catch her breath.  Though the harvest had just been gathered, the night was
     unseasonably warm.  Upstairs in the retiring rooms, women dusted perspiring faces with powder and, with the help of their maids, attempted to right coiffures slipping slightly askew.  A tall spare woman reapplied a beauty patch to her cheek, and a plump sweet faced matron painstakingly drew a blue vein on her temple.

They cast Brenna quick surprised glances, then went back to their labors.  Brenna escaped into an adjoining bedchamber, grateful to find it empty.  French doors opened onto a narrow balcony overlooking the garden, and Brenna stepped out into a cooling breeze stirring from the small ornamental lake beyond the house. 

Trying to quell the anger that churned inside her, she heard a rustle of skirts and the tap of high fashionable heels on the parquet floor of the next room.  The women at the mirrors had departed, and a silence broken only by strains of music from the ballroom settled over the moon  hung autumn night.  Brenna knew she shouldn't be absent too long, but she lingered, soothed by the smell of damp leaves and earth and the quiet stealing around her.

Too quickly her peace was shattered.  A new set of voices burst into the dressing room, and what she heard made her halt just as she was about to open the door.

"Were you presented to the new countess?"

"Need you ask?" a cynical voice retorted.  "My dog of a husband has been sniffing around her skirts the entire evening.  And small wonder.  Did you ever see a creature so brazen?"

"Whatever could the Earl have been thinking to marry her?  She barely knows how to behave in civilized society.  Imagine, she doesn't powder her hair."

"They say the Earl is besotted, to marry such an utter nobody," a third put in.  "And a Scotswoman.  They're hardly more than savages."

Brenna's fingers curled around the handle of the door.  But she fought the urge to burst into the room and confront them.  She wouldn't be caught listening at keyholes.  These English cats would be only too glad to add that to her list of sins. 

"The Earl may have been smitten enough to wed her," the first woman remarked, "but it appears he's made a swift recovery."

"Does she know Lady Scoville is here tonight?"  The question was asked in a tone of malicious relish, and something inside Brenna went oddly still.

"My dear, from the way she's behaving, I think she's quite in the dark." 

"Perhaps she's careless by nature
, with her husband as well as her reputation." 

This time there was shared laughter, and a new voice broke in.  "You're leaving me as much in the dark as the Countess.  Who
is
Lady Scoville?" 

"The Earl's mistress.  Or so they said when I was in
London last year." 

Brenna's breath constricted in her chest, and she suddenly felt lightheaded.

"From what I see," the first woman went on, "the Earl and Lady Caroline are still on the closest of terms.  Now that Lady Scoville is a houseguest at Dorcombe Manor, I shouldn't be at all surprised if the new countess is left to ride out alone on the downs."

Brenna turned and fled back to the balcony.  Had it started so soon?  Even before their honeymoon ended?  Brenna shook at being so naive.  Then she knew she was a prize fool.  What did it matter if Drake strayed?  They had made no vows of love, no private protests of fidelity.  The pleasures Drake taught her in their bed had lulled her into trusting him, into believing they might find a degree of harmony together. 

Tonight had jolted her back to reality.  The moment she displeased him, he had deserted her.  He had turned his back on her in public, and sought the company of a mistress he had never abandoned.  And made her a laughingstock.  Brenna wanted to climb from the balcony, to simply disappear into the night.  But she had too much pride, and too many petticoats, for that. 

She would face Drake and his mistress whatever it cost.

When she descended the
Bennington's staircase, the assembly had gathered to devour a lavish buffet set out on long tables in the dining room.  Through the wide flung doors, Brenna could see roasts of beef and mutton, loins of veal, a boar's head, and succulent pigeons smothered in cream.  Sliced roast duck waited on silver salvers next to pork pies and soused herrings, and golden crusty loaves of bread lay alongside the last bounty of the summer, ripe fruits and vegetables in an array of sauces. 

At once, she was besieged by her newfound admirers, each of them offering her his arm to escort her to supper.  Brenna chose the youngest and most rakish among them.  From his wicked grin, it was clear Drake's behavior and hers had raised his hopes that he might enjoy more than her company at dinner. 

It wasn't difficult to pick out Lady Scoville, even if Drake hadn't danced attendance at her side.  She was far and away the most beautiful woman in the room.  Her pale blonde hair was only lightly powdered, and she had wide
set green eyes in a perfectly molded heart shaped face.  But it was her oddly mobile, sensual mouth and her magnificent figure that set her apart.

Opulent breasts rose above the low neckline of her gown, half
bared and so full the liveried servants goggled as they passed.  Her waist tapered to scarcely more than the span of a man's hands, and her milk and rose complexion was artfully set off by her silken blush pink gown.  She looked like a spun sugar confection.

Determined not to betray her reaction, Brenna summoned a brilliant smile for her dashing young escort.  But as they started toward the laden tables, her smile faded.  Theodora sat ensconced with a coterie of other aging women, and she shot Brenna a triumphant look.  So this was the reason Theodora insisted they accept Lady Bennington's invitation.  The dowager countess had known Lady Scoville would be at the ball.  Brenna had dismissed Theodora's scheming, and Theodora had taught her a humbling lesson. 

"Lord Anthony, I believe I see the Earl," she said with forced lightness.  "Shall we join him?"

Though her would
be swain was reluctant, he could scarcely refuse.  At that instant, Drake's eyes lifted to lock with hers.  To Brenna's satisfaction, she saw his discomfort change to annoyance at her choice of a companion.  But he was coldly in control when Brenna and her escort reached them.  He greeted her imp faced admirer with sardonic ease. 

"Ah, Lord Anthony.  I see you live up to your reputation for discerning taste."  His gaze slid to Brenna.  "And I see you've found a
dinner partner.  You vanished so long, I began to worry."

"I'm flattered you noticed my absence," Brenna said tartly.

Lady Scoville cut in, her voice dark honey.  "My lord, you haven't presented me to your bride."      

Drake started uncomfortably at her reminder.  "Lady Scoville has only just arrived in the country from
London.  Caroline is a house guest of the Endicottes at Dorcombe Manor."

"Do you stay in
Surrey often?" Brenna asked, her tone even.

A soft laugh bubbled from Caroline at Brenna's measuring look.  "Only when I'm invited.  I confess I was beginning to find
London a trifle stale.  I thought it might be more amusing to spend some time in the country, and congratulate Drake on his marriage."

Brenna curbed her flash of resentment at Caroline's silky answer.  "You're old friends then?"

"Very old friends."  Caroline's smile dimpled.  "Of course, a married woman has to guard her reputation with such a dashing bachelor."  She sent Drake a playful, conspiratorial look.  "The news of Drake's wedding pleased all of us no end."

Drake's mouth tightened with irritation.  "Caroline is a notorious romantic.  And overly fond of unsolicited advice."

Brenna could barely manage to be civil.  "Is Lord Scoville here with you tonight?"     

Lady Scoville laughed.  "My husband is in
London.  He rarely joins me in my travels.  He's quite the scholar and ascetic, and he much prefers to spend his time deciphering Greek and Latin."

"A pastime I can't think you share," Lord Anthony drawled, his eyes crinkling with ill
  masked mischief.  "If I recall correctly, Lord Scoville's passion for bookish pursuits came on with advancing age.  A woman of your extraordinary charms must find more earthly diversions amusing."

Caroline had caught the sly grin he aimed at Brenna, and she parried his barbed flattery with casual ease.   "I see your reputation as a gallant is well
  deserved.  Small wonder fathers hide their daughters when they hear your name."

"As husbands hide their wives," Drake broke in with an edge to his voice.  "Since Anthony shows so much interest in your amuse
ments, Caroline, I'll leave you to discuss them."  He shot Lord Anthony a dangerous look.  "I have the odd fancy to flout all convention and take supper with my bride."  

Bowing to Caroline, Drake offered Brenna his hand.  She stiffened, tempted to resist, but s
he had no desire to create any more of a scene.  He propelled her a few feet out of earshot. 

"Where exactly
have
you been for so long?" he demanded in a blunt, icy voice.  "With that strutting young pup?"

Jealousy ill becomes you,
my lord
.  She longed to throw his accusation back in his face.  But she would only betray her own suspicions.     

"If it's any of your affair," she said, "I retired upstairs.  I found the ballroom too crowded and warm."

He shot her an angry probing glance.  "Everything you do is my affair."

"Since you left me to fend for myself," Brenna told him in a biting voice, "you can hardly blame me for doing precisely that."

He had been leading her toward the richly
weighted tables.  Now he halted to fix her with a hard direct look. 

"I don't propose to engage in public quarrels with you.  If we disagree, we'll settle our differences in private."

Where you can explain
away the arrival of your mistress a stone's throw from our door
?  But Brenna knew that was one question she had too much pride to ask. 

Her answering look was scathing.  "After tonight, I'll marvel if we settle our differences at all."

          
          *****

Brenna and Drake's brief truce was over.  They made love as before, but something had changed between them.  The suspicion that Drake had resumed his affair with Caroline Scoville might stem from backbiting gossip and Caroline's pointed innuendo, but Brenna's budding trust in Drake had been shaken.