Only Scandal Will Do (24 page)

“I believe Manning and I can entertain ourselves until luncheon, Lady Dalbury. We need not be under foot.” He nodded toward the house. “Would you care for a game of billiards, Manning? I had a table installed just before I left for Italy and it has yet to be christened.” The two men walked off, chatting amiably, as she and Juliet made their way into the receiving room.

Over tea, Katarina questioned Juliet frankly about the running of the house, which would now fall to her as its mistress. Fortunately, Dalbury employed skilled servants and the household almost ran itself, according to Juliet. She sighed in relief, though she knew there were many duties she would need to master as the marchioness. Even the title sounded strange to her ears. Much grander than anything plain Kat Fitzwilliam should ever be called. She supposed she would get used to it eventually.

Dinner was just the three of them that night, Jack having refused an invitation and left for home. Kat quailed at the thought of either conversation or quiet at the dinner table, but the meal went surprisingly well. Dalbury and Juliet talked at length about her prospects for another betrothal, discussing eligible suitors Kat did not know, so she could not advance an opinion. She could, however, observe the siblings together and again wondered at their closeness and camaraderie. Their exchanges made her long for Jack that much more and keenly anticipate her ride with him and Juliet in the morning.

After she and Dalbury bade Juliet goodnight, he presented his arm and formally escorted her to her chamber. “Are you engaged tomorrow afternoon, Lady Dalbury?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

“No, my lord, I am not.” She was glad he had not asked about the morning.

“Splendid!” His face lit up at her words. “I would ask then that you accompany me on a shopping expedition, if you please.”

“For what are you shopping?”

“Clothes for you.”

“But I do not need more clothes. I am well set.”

He shook his head. “You may not be aware, my dear, but the Season is in full swing. Juliet and I agreed tonight, she must go back into society. We will be expected to escort her to numerous parties, balls, soirees, musicales, routs and Lord knows how many other entertainments for the next two months. As the marchioness of Dalbury, you must pay calls, go about to various daytime functions and you must dress accordingly, which means you need enough clothing to change at least five or six times a day.”

Her mouth dropped open at this outrageous statement.

He tried to stifle a smile as they stopped on the next to the top step.

“But this wasteful extravagance is absurd, Lord Dalbury.” Kat stared at him in disbelief. “We lived much more simply in Virginia.”

“An unwritten rule of Polite Society I am afraid, my dear. So your current wardrobe will be sadly depleted in a matter of days.” He smiled kindly and urged her onto the landing. “We will visit Juliet’s mantua-maker and order clothing enough for this season. Then, before we retire to the country in July, we will order more for the fall and winter.”

Though appalled at the shameful waste of money and clothing, nevertheless, she could not argue with him. She understood little about the ways of
ton
society, therefore she would have to be guided by her husband on the matter. Besides, it was his money to fritter away. “Then I suppose, Lord Dalbury, we must indeed go shopping.”

They were at her bedroom door, when another thought occurred. “Will your sister accompany us, or will you choose my wardrobe yourself?”

He threw back his head, laughing so loudly she expected servants to appear to investigate the commotion. “My Lady Dalbury! I will be happy to assist you in any way with your purchases, but heaven forbid I choose your attire for an entire season.” His laughter subsided into chuckles. “By all means, we will take Juliet with us. Between the two of you, I feel sure you can create a wardrobe that will do you justice.” As he gazed at her, the mirth in his eyes warmed into something that sent a corresponding stab of heat into her stomach. “I will be pleased to show off my beautiful wife to the whole of the
ton
in whatever gowns you choose, my lady.”

Dalbury leaned toward her and she held her breath, closed her eyes in anticipation of the touch of his lips, warmed by the desire that had leapt into his eyes. His lips grazed not her mouth but her forehead. Her eyes popped open. He smiled tenderly down with a look that completely bewildered her.

“Goodnight, my lady. Sleep well.” He made a small bow, turned and entered his chamber, leaving her staring after him, feeling oddly bereft. Of course, she did not want him to pursue her, but... Shaking her head at her confusion, she entered her bedchamber. Just how long could he sustain the role of the perfect husband?

Tomorrow promised to prove extremely enlightening.

Chapter 21

A cold rain greeted Kat next morning, as did a note from her brother, canceling all plans for their ride. More depressing, his message stated he’d been called away to his country estate for several days. To make matters worse, Lord Dalbury informed her at breakfast that Juliet was confined to bed with a cold. And because she could not accompany them to the mantua-maker, that outing must be postponed as well. All of which left her alone in Dalbury’s company. Horrible prospect. What on earth was she to do all day with only
him
to talk to? Could she too, plead a cold and retire to her bed?

Across the breakfast table from her, he sipped coffee and buttered a last bite of toast. How well could she counterfeit a sneeze? He raised his face to her at that moment. A lazy smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “We two seem to have the day before us, my lady. Shall we put it to good use?”

She did not like the sound of that. What was he going to propose?

“I thought you might like to tour the house and stables. There is a connecting walkway so we will not get very wet.” There was a hopeful look in his eye that she did not really want to contemplate, but his benign suggestion reminded her she should be shown the rest of the house.

“That will suit me well enough this morning,” she replied, carefully keeping enthusiasm out of her voice. It was becoming harder and harder to remember to dislike the marquess in his current mood. He was handsome, with that small smile still turning up one corner of his full, sensual mouth.

She caught herself staring and dropped her gaze to her plate. He might have gotten his way as far as their marriage was concerned, but she would resist his seductive charms until she could better gauge his true nature. A resolve she already found difficult to maintain.

When Dalbury finished eating, he offered his arm and they set off to explore the wonders of the larder and kitchen, drawing room and receiving room, ballroom and stable. He proved an able guide, giving just enough information about each room without becoming tedious.

Despite her determination, Katarina found herself impressed with the townhouse: the structure, dating back to 1725, was among the earliest houses built on the fashionable square. It boasted seven bays and three stories of smooth gray brick. The appointments throughout were lavish but of impeccable taste, from the blue and gold relief work on the ceiling of the ballroom, to the rich Persian carpets strewn throughout the house, to the delicate peach and cream fabrics in the lady’s retiring room on the main floor.

There, Dalbury’s voice softened when he explained, “This was my mother’s favorite room. She wrote letters at that escritoire.” He motioned to the petite writing desk, its warm cherry tones glowing in the reflected light of the fire. “Or embroidered in front of the window. She would watch Juliet and me run to the park in summer.” A hint of sadness flickered across his face, drawing his brows and hollowing his cheeks momentarily. “But we must continue to the stables,” he continued, seamlessly changing the subject. “Our luncheon will be waiting for us.”

The stables provided a breath of fresh, if damp, air, and spacious accommodations for horses, carriages, grooms and coachmen.

“How many horses do you have, my lord?” These stables reminded her of life in Virginia, where she had grown up with horses. In spite of herself, she grew animated at Dalbury’s comments.

“There are two sets of matched carriage horses. And seven others for riding. This is my favorite,” he said, stroking the neck of a tall chestnut stallion, which stamped and swished his black tail. “I have had Saxon for five years now. The grooms said he missed me dreadfully when I was in Italy last year. But I’m going to make that up to him, aren’t I, old boy?”

As if he understood, Saxon whinnied and lipped Dalbury’s arm. The marquess fished about in a pocket and brought out a couple of lumps of sugar. “No, I didn’t forget.” He offered the treat and rubbed Saxon’s nose.

“He’s magnificent, my lord. Have you bred him yet?”

The question slipped out, quite naturally. She had grown up with horses, talked about them constantly with her brother and father. But she winced as she realized her question might lead her husband’s thoughts along a similar line.

Dalbury’s eyes widened, but he didn’t seem offended. “Yes, twice. Over in the two end stalls are his progeny. Balthazar and Romeo.”

“Romeo?”

Dalbury grinned. “Only to annoy Juliet.”

“And does she ride him?”

His eyes twinkled, and her heart started pounding. “It sounds rather risque but yes, Juliet rides Romeo every chance she gets.”

Kat dissolved into a fit of laughter and hung onto the stall for support. “You have a devilish sense of humor, Lord Dalbury. You quite put me in mind of my brother sometimes.” She sobered a bit and asked, “Am I to be allowed to ride as well?”

Mouth pursed, he stepped back. “Of course. I am well aware of your fondness for riding and would certainly not deny you that or any other pleasure I might provide for you.”

Though she’d feared a leer at that last remark, Dalbury must not be playing that game today, for his face showed only an almost boyish hurt.

“Which mount should I take then, my lord?”

He surprised her by clasping her hand and leading her down the stalls to a tall roan mare with a white star on her forehead. “This is Stella.”

Immediately enchanted with the graceful animal, Kat stroked the proud neck. Delighted, she turned to Dalbury. “She is beautiful. You have had her long?”

“But two days.” He gazed deeply into Kat’s eyes, kneaded her hand in his strong fingers and in a low-pitched voice said, “I bought her the day we were wed. She is my wedding present to you.”

She formed an
O
with her mouth but no sound emerged. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest that she was sure Dalbury could hear. He simply continued to gaze at her, running his thumb lightly over her knuckles. As if bewitched, she drew closer to him, until only a hair’s breadth of space remained between them. Head tipped back, she stared into his warm, nutmeg-brown eyes. Breathing became little silent gasps, as she was afraid to draw a deep breath lest he notice her agitation. He raised a finger and smoothed a stray lock of her hair back into place then let his hand linger, cupping the back of her head. At his touch she began to tremble, in fear or something else, she did not know. Did not care.

Mouth suddenly gone dry, she swallowed, and parted her lips to speak. He hovered above her mouth. His breath in her mouth was hot, moist, sweet. She breathed deeply, aware as never before of the rich, comforting aroma of the stables mingled intimately with his distinctive scent of citrus soap and male musk. The rasp of his breathing sounded low and steadier than hers. The strong clasp of his hand around hers, the heat pouring through her like a molten river where they touched, sent a surge of longing throughout her body. If she just raised her head, even slightly, his lips would be on hers and–

Stella snorted.

The explosion of sound made Kat and Dalbury leap back and away from each other. Shaken by the intimacy she’d found herself
enjoying
with her husband, she hung onto the stall. She hid her face, trying to calm herself. He had done it again, damn him! Even more exasperating, her attraction to him had not diminished a jot.

When she peeked at Dalbury, he stood turned away and his breathing came in jerky gasps. At least he wasn’t as self-assured as last time.

Glad to have a different focus for her attention, she steadied herself with several deep breaths and stroked the mare again. When she thought she could speak calmly, she said, “I thank you, my lord, for your gift to me. She is most beautiful and I will look forward to riding her soon.”

Dalbury turned toward her, his breathing once again even, eyes shining. “You are more than welcome. I am glad you take pleasure in the gift. I look forward to riding with you, if you will permit?”

Trapped, she could only nod.

“Shall we go in to luncheon, then?”

Again she nodded, took the arm he offered and felt the now familiar heat of him even through the fabric of his coat. The sensation unsettled her. His warmth seemed to seep into her very bones.

Returning to the house in awkward silence, Kat tried once more to mentally distance herself from her husband. She dredged up all the reasons why she could not trust him: his escapades, his women, his seductive words. But with his warm, comforting presence beside her, outrage faded. Despite her very real concerns, she was increasingly aware that if she were not careful, her resolve to deny her husband would crumble like a mud pie in a steady rain.