No Man's Mistress (41 page)

She had scarcely seen Ferdinand all week. He had called once formally to ask her mother's and her uncle's permission to marry her, even though she was twenty-five years old and he need not have asked at all. She had seen him only once—briefly—since then. Her hands closed firmly about her fan, and she smiled.

Tomorrow she was going home.

The carriage turned into Grosvenor Square and rolled to a halt before the doors of Dudley House.

She looked like Miss Thornhill of Pinewood Manor. That was Ferdinand's thought as he watched her through much of the evening. She was the picture of understated elegance in her deceptively simple white gown. She wore her hair in the familiar braids, but they were looped and coiled in an intricate design. She bore herself with regal grace. If she was nervous—and she undoubtedly was—she did not show it.

He kept his distance. Everyone at Dudley House—and the drawing room and the adjoining salons beyond it were thronged with the crème de la crème of society-would know what he had done on her behalf in Hyde Park the week before. He would not have it said, then, that she had to cling to him tonight, that without him she could not have done what she clearly was doing quite magnificently.

She was mingling with the
ton
. She was conversing with ladies whom one might expect under other circumstances to avert their faces from her and gather their skirts about them lest they rub against her. She was talking and laughing with gentlemen who had known her in her other, now-dead persona.

And she was doing it alone.

It was true that Bamber, distinguishing himself by his good manners as he had perhaps never done before, hovered at her elbow for the first hour until he had personally introduced her to every guest as his half-sister. And Jane, Angie, Tresham, and even Heyward made sure that one of them was always in any group that gathered about her.

But she behaved like Miss Thornhill of Pinewood. However she was feeling inside, she appeared to be perfectly at her ease.

Ferdinand watched her, at first with some anxiety, then with pride.

He had not been at all sure that day he had stopped her from leaving London that she would agree to the daring scheme he and Tresham had conceived. Perhaps in her own way, he thought, Viola was as drawn to a difficult challenge as irresistibly as he ever was. Nothing had been more chancy than her appearance here tonight.

But she had done it, and it had worked. Oh, he knew she had no wish to mingle with the
ton
after tonight. He knew she longed to go home to Pinewood and to resume her life there. But she had done this first, and now it would be known that society had accepted her and she could return anytime she wished.

“Well, Ferdie.” His sister had come up beside him without his noticing. “I can see now why she was always so celebrated for her beauty. If I were a few years younger and still on the marriage mart, I would doubtless hate her.” She laughed merrily. “Heyward said you were mad, you and Tresh, and that you could never pull this off. But you have, as I told him you would—and of course Heyward is pleased about it. He says he always knew that when you finally did fall in love, it would be with someone wildly ineligible, but that he was going to have to throw his support behind you because you are my brother.”

“That is magnanimous of him.” He grinned.

“Well, it
is,”
she agreed. “There is no higher stickler than Heyward, you know. I believe it is why I decided the first time I set eyes on him that I would marry him. He was so
different
from us.”

It had always been a source of amusement to Ferdinand and his brother that their shatterbrained, chatterbox Angie and a dry old stick like Heyward were locked up tight in a love match.

“Ferdie.” She set one gloved hand on his arm. “I simply
must
tell you, even though Heyward said I must not because it would be vulgar to talk about such a thing at a public event. Just you, though. I have already whispered it to Jane and Tresh. Ferdie, I am in an
interesting condition
. I saw a physician today and it is quite, quite certain. After
six years.”

Her eyes were swimming with tears, he saw when he looked down at her and set his hand warmly over hers.

“Angie,” he said.

“I hope,” she said. “Oh, I
do
hope I can present Heyward with an heir, though he says that he does not mind if it is a girl as long as both she and I come safely through the ordeal.”

“Of course he will not mind,” Ferdinand said, raising her hand to his lips. “He loves you, after all.”

“Yes.” She searched out her husband with her eyes and beamed at him while he looked back with an expression of pained resignation—he knew very well, of course, that she was spreading the embarrassing news of his impending fatherhood. “Yes, he does.”

She chattered on.

There was a formal supper later in the evening, during which Ferdinand sat with Mrs. Wilding and Lady Webb, who had taken Viola's mother under her wing during most of the evening. Viola was at the opposite side of the room with Bamber and Angie and Heyward. But they were very aware of each other. Their eyes met halfway through the meal, and they smiled at each other—though it was more a smile of the eyes than of the face.

I am so proud of you
, his look said.

I am so happy
, hers replied.

I love you
.

I love you
.

And then Tresham was touching his shoulder and bending his head to speak quietly.

“You want the announcement made, then?” he asked. “And you still want me to make it?”

“It is your house and reception,” Ferdinand said. “And you are the head of the family.”

His brother squeezed his shoulder, straightened up, and cleared his throat. The Duke of Tresham never needed to do more than that to command the attention of a large number of people. The room was silent within moments.

“I have an announcement to make,” his grace said. “I daresay most, if not all of you, have half guessed it.”

There was a murmuring as all eyes moved between Ferdinand and Viola. His own were on her. She was flushed, her gaze lowered.

“But only half,” Tresham continued. “Lord Ferdinand Dudley asked me several days ago if I would announce his betrothal to Miss Viola Thornhill this evening.”

There was a swell of sound and a smattering of applause. Viola was biting her lower lip. Tresham held up one hand for quiet.

“I prepared a suitable speech,” he said, “of congratulation to my brother, of sincere welcome to our family of my future sister-in-law. But we Dudleys can never behave ourselves as we ought, you know.”

There was laughter.

“My sister and my duchess were already planning a grand wedding at St. George's and a breakfast and ball,” Tresham continued. “It was to be the event of the Season.”

“What do you mean by
were
and
was
, Tresh?” Angeline cried, her voice filled with sudden suspicion. “Ferdie has not—”

“Yes, I am afraid he has,” Tresham said. “This morning I was informed an hour after the event that Ferdinand and Miss Thornhill were married by special license, his valet and her maid the only witnesses. Ladies
and gentlemen, I proudly present to you my brother and sister-in-law, Lord and Lady Ferdinand Dudley.”

Viola had found the courage to look up while the duke spoke. She gazed across the room at Ferdinand, handsome and elegant in his crisp black and white evening clothes, and so very, very dear.

Her husband
.

How she had longed for him all day. But she had had the reception to prepare for, and he had had business to attend to so that he could be ready to leave with her for Pinewood tomorrow morning. And they had wanted no one to know except her mother and the duke, whom they had told after their brief, achingly beautiful wedding early in the morning.

How she had longed all evening to go to him, to have him come to her. But she had insisted, and he had agreed, that this evening was something she must do for herself, in her own person. She would not hide behind anyone's coattails. The evening had been incredibly hard, but she had felt his powerful, comforting presence at every moment of it, and she had done it—for herself and for him. He had taken a great gamble, marrying her this morning before he knew for sure that the
ton
would not spurn her and turn its back on him.

She gazed at him now across the room and rose to her feet as he came striding toward her, his dark eyes alight, one arm lifting as he drew close. She set her hand in his, and he raised it to his lips.

It was only then that she became fully aware of the noise about them—voices and applause and laughter. But then the noise died away again. The Duke of Tresham—her
brother-in-law—
had not finished speaking.

“There has not been a great deal of time,” he said, “but my duchess is a resourceful lady—I did share the secret with her, of course. And we have able servants. We ask you all to join us in the ballroom after supper. But before we adjourn…” He lifted his eyebrows in the direction of his butler, who was standing in the doorway, and the man stood aside for two footmen, who were carrying between them a white and silver three-tiered wedding cake.

“The devil!” Ferdinand murmured, gripping Viola's hand and drawing it through his arm. “I might have known it would be fatal to say anything before tonight.” His eyes were dancing with merriment when he looked down at her. “I hope you won't mind too much, my love.”

For the next half hour she felt too overwhelmed to know if she minded or not. Her mother came to hug them both, as did Jane and Angeline—who each insisted that she must now call them by their first names—and even the duke. Lord Heyward and the Earl of Bamber hugged her and shook hands with Ferdinand. But then Jane insisted it was time to cut the cake and carry it around on a silver platter so that all the guests could have a chance to congratulate them and wish them well.

It was the very fuss they had hoped to avoid by marrying quietly.

It was wonderful.

Gradually the guests drifted away from the dining room until only Jane and Angeline and Viola's mother were left apart from the newlyweds. Angeline was complaining bitterly about two brothers who had foiled her dearest wish to organize a grand wedding. But interspersed with the complaints were tears and hugs and an assurance that she had never been happier in her life.

“Besides,” she added, “if I have a daughter I will be
able to give her the grandest wedding anyone has ever seen. Then you will know what you and Tresh missed, Ferdie.”

“We should go and join everyone else,” he suggested, smiling so warmly into Viola's eyes that her heart turned over.

“Why the ballroom?” she asked.

“A question I have been trying not to ask myself,” he said with a grimace. “First, though, a matter of importance that I should have seen to as soon as Tresham made his announcement, love.” He drew her wedding ring out of a pocket of his evening coat and slid it onto her finger—where it had lain for such a brief spell during the morning. He kissed it. “For all time, Viola.”

The ballroom was large, imposing, and quite breathtaking, Viola saw. The guests stood about the edges of the dance floor. An orchestra occupied a dais at the other end of the room. Three large chandeliers overhead glistened with all their candles alight. The walls and windows and doorways were adorned with masses of white flowers, greenery, and silver ribbons.

There was renewed applause as Viola and Ferdinand appeared in the doorway. The Duke of Tresham stood on the dais, waiting for quiet.

“An impromptu ball, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “in celebration of a marriage. Ferdinand, lead your bride into the opening waltz, if you please.”

Ferdinand turned his head and looked down at Viola as the orchestra began to play. He looked embarrassed and pleased—and also slightly amused.

“Now, what are you doing hiding here,” he murmured to her, “when you should be out there dancing?”

She was struck by the familiarity of the words and
then remembered where and when he had spoken them before. She smiled back at him.

“I have been waiting for the right partner, sir,” she replied. And, more softly, “I have been waiting
for you.”

She set her hand on his and he led her onto the dance floor and set one arm about her waist. He moved her into the lilting rhythm of the waltz while their wedding guests watched. His eyes smiled into hers.

And then she remembered something else from that fateful May Day about the village green in Trellick.

Beware of a tall, dark, handsome stranger. He can destroy you—if you do not first snare his heart
.