Authors: Lavinia Kent
She was going to lie
. He could see her brows draw together and her lower lip tremble. He’d never seen such a guilty looking face.
“I needed to . . .” Her eyebrows were almost touching
. She stopped suddenly. Her shoulders pulled back. “It was nothing. I just woke and wanted to be out. Does it matter where I went?”
How did she always manage to turn the question back to him
? “Of course not, merely idle curiosity.” He sat in the high wing chair, swung his feet up on the stool. Her eyes followed the gesture and her lips curled up. He raised a brow in question.
“I was just discussing how much I wanted to put my feet up and now I find myself standing watching you,” she said.
“Ahh, are we not going to argue then.”
She placed a hand on the arm of his chair and leaned towards him
. “I am not sure we know how to talk without arguing. It seems whatever I say you feel compelled to say the opposite.”
“And here I was thinking the same of you.”
“Then do we actually agree on something?” she asked.
“We do
. Are you going to tell me where you were?” He swung one foot down and guided her until she stood between his legs. He closed his thighs about her. He could see the pulse in her neck flick to life.
“I thought it did not matter.
” She bent further forward, granting him a clear view down the front of her dress. She licked that maddening lower lip.
“It doesn’t
. I just wanted to make sure I had not displeased you in some way. I had plans when I awoke and finding you not present, it put, shall we say, a damper on them.” He waited and watched, sure enough, the blush came. He watched it rise over her chest, spread up her neck until it pinkened her cheeks. She was a delight.
He grasped the hand that rested on the chair and used it to pull her into the chair
. “So are you going to tell me?” he whispered into her ear.
“Tell you what?” she whispered back and planted a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Where you were?”
“A woman must keep some mysteries.”
He ran a finger across her collar bone, enjoying her shudder. She kissed him again. He turned his mouth so the kiss landed fully upon his lips. “Will you at least tell me why you were with Moreland and Landgon?” He kissed her again.
“I was not with them, they merely followed.”
“They followed you on your errand?” He pushed down the edge of her bodice and nibbled one white shoulder. He ignored the growing pressure of his arousal. He was getting close to an answer.
“No, they followed me home.
” She turned over until her chest was pressed fully against his. She trailed kisses up his neck and nipped the point of his chin. “Are you really going to spend the rest of the morning asking me questions? I thought there was something you wanted to do that you needed me for.” She rotated her hips against him.
He suppressed a groan
. She was an enchantress, blushing and innocent one moment, Aphrodite the next. He pulled up her skirt. “We have time for stories and my plans before we go. Is there something you are trying to avoid telling me?” He drew circles on the back of her knee, the fine silk of her stocking causing only the slightest friction.
“Going where are we going?” She bit his chin again.
“Huismans card party. I believe I will accompany you.”
He almost missed how she paled at his answer
. Was she still trying to find an excuse not to tell him where she had been? Had it not been as innocent as he imagined? His mind began to spin with possibilities.
She drew back
. “Oh, I think I need more practice then.” Her fingers moved from his shirt to the upper fastening of her dress. “I daresay I could use another hand of piquet.”
He forgot what he’d been thinking about.
As she entered the small drawing room on her husband’s arm
, Marguerite understood for the first time the power of her title. Walking up to Huismans’ house she had almost turned and run, confessed to her husband that she had no invitation, that it had all been pretense, but instead she held strong.
She need not have feared
. The porter gestured them in, the butler waved them towards the party without question. If the Marquess of Wimberley was here, then he belonged here.
Huisman’s strode up to them as they entered.
Before he could comment Marguerite spoke quickly, “It was wonderful of you to invite me. I have been practicing, but fear I am no match for a man of your skill. I hope it is no difficulty that my husband has accompanied me.”
Huismans measured her with his glance
. She could feel the questions he did not ask. “Of course, I am delighted by your company. I am sure we have much to discuss.” His words addressed Marguerite, but his glance had turned to Tristan. “If the numbers are uneven we will take turns sitting out – a true gentleman does not mind letting someone else do the work.” He gave a small laugh, almost a titter. “It is of course the purpose of men such as myself – the merchant class.”
Tristan made no response beyond a proper greeting and gestured to Marguerite to precede them into the room
. There were no chairs available at the card tables. She gulped as she spied Landgon, Simon, and another young gentleman seated at a table with Simon’s mother. Lady Harburton did not look pleased to see her. She turned back to her son.
Tristan looked amused at the lack of remaining seats
and with the smallest quirk of his mouth he indicated she should take a seat on the couch. He followed and stood beside her.
“The tables look set for whist, not piquet,” he said.
“Perhaps I misunderstood, or perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps?”
“Perhaps I was looking for a game only for two.” She felt heat begin to rise. She stared with force at the tulips on the mantle. They shone a polished black, not a deep purple, but a true black. She started to try to think of other objects that color, coal, polished boots, ebony – If she thought hard enough she would not blush. She could pretend a sophistication she did not feel – continue the verbal joust at which her husband was so accomplished.
“You are admiring my flowers, Lady Wimberley?
” Huismans moved up beside her. Another gentleman, one she did not recognize had engaged Tristan in conversation.
She looked at the flowers again
. “They are very interesting.” And very ugly.
“Yes, they are quite rare
. My grower at home has only managed a handful of bulbs. I give them only to my dearest friends. A hundred years ago there were rumors in my land of single bulbs worth more than a great house. That was nonsense and caused a scandal, but these bulbs . . .” he let the sentence trail off.
“I have always liked flowers.
” That was true at least. Marguerite slid closer to Tristan. If she moved her leg their calves would touch. She moved. Tristan’s body twitched. Did he feel the same bolt of lightening that she did at their slightest contact? She wished she dared move even more and find out.
“Yes, flowers are a delight
. Objects of great beauty should always surround a woman. Don’t you agree?” Huismans lowered his voice as if to impart a great secret.
Marguerite flipped her skirt over her slipper
. She lifted her leg slightly so that her toe rested against Tristan’s ankle just above the shoe. She raised and lowered her toe against the back of his stocking. He straightened, but made no acknowledgement.
“I asked what you think of beautiful things.
” Huismans sat beside her on the settee.
“Beautiful things are very nice.
” She turned towards Huismans and tried to look interested. At least the conversation was not demanding. She rubbed her toe against Tristan again. Actions were so much easier than words.
Huismans moved closer, his leg brushing the edge of her skirt
. “I am glad that you feel that way. I enjoy giving objects of beauty to women of matching stature.” He laid his hand on the couch next to her own so that only the tips of their fingers brushed. Marguerite shifted nearer to the edge of the couch, and her husband.
“It would not be proper for me to accept gifts.
” Gads, she hoped that sounded polite. She was in the man’s house and she had never heard anything impolite about him.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything like that.
” He withdrew his hand. “I was merely thinking of a small corsage, a bouquet of my tulips. They are quite sought after. I could call and bring you a miserly offering and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea. If you are uncomfortable accepting them I am sure we can find some way for you to help me in return, perhaps, even just a conversation. Having married such a brilliant man, you must be quite the conversationalist. I can’t imagine anything more delightful than discussing the world with a fair creature of such brilliant temperance.”
What had the man just said
? Brilliant temperance? She had never heard such a phrase. Marguerite was not sure if it was her own lack of knowledge or Mr. Huismans’ lack of English. She tucked it away to ask Tristan about later. She smiled back politely. “That would be lovely, but –.” She was on the point of refusing when she remembered Tristan’s interest in the man. “I am not sure when I am free, perhaps we can discuss it at a later time.”
“That would be lovely.
” His hand was back. “May I make a morning call sometime this week? I will –.”
“Really, Anton,” Minerva
Harburton addressed Husimans by his Christian name, “it is most irregular of you to invite me to play and then to leave me with only my son and his friend for company. Won’t you join us? Mr
.
Bridges has stated that he needs to leave and it will leave us short-handed. So, you must come and play.” Lady Harburton turned to Marguerite who she had ignored to this point, “Although perhaps you would care to play? Do you enjoy a challenging game of whist? It would even the tables.”
“I am really not much for cards.”
“I did not think so. Your strategy is rather obvious.” Lady Harburton glanced at Marguerite’s hand, which still lay next to Huismans’. “Tristan, your wife says she doesn’t care for games of chance. Would you like to play?”
Marguerite swallowed a gasp
. Since when had Tristan been of such intimate terms with Lady Harburton? Ah, his shoulders had stiffened, he was not comfortable with the familiarity either. He turned and took in the situation behind him. His gaze also fastened on the hands, side by side, on the couch.
“Actually, Lady
Harburton,” he stressed the formality, “I was just thinking how much I enjoyed competing with our dear friend Huismans. Perhaps he would join me and the other gentlemen and you ladies could have a chance to get better acquainted. Wouldn’t you enjoy that, Marguerite?”
She had not seen that coming
. What was he up to? “Yes, that would be lovely. I am sure you would not mind if I furthered my friendship with Lady Harburton.” Marguerite looked at Huismans.
He nodded his agreement, although with little show of pleasure
. The men departed to make up their game. Simon and Langdon did not look disappointed when Lady Harburton failed to rejoin them.
“
I know what you’re trying to do,” Lady Harburton hissed with a smile.
“Do forgive me, but I do not know to what you refer.
” Marguerite looked pointedly ahead. Lady Harburton had replaced Huismans on the settee.
“Of course you do
. I told your sister once that it was always the innocent looking ones who are sly. I was referring to your understandable pursuit of my dear Simon. But, now I see you have bigger fish to fry.”
“I really do not know what you are speaking of and I never pursued –“
“It’s easy to pretend otherwise now, when you think you’ve hooked yourself a bigger fish, but I saw you chase him around your sister’s party. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Marguerite was not sure that there had been any pursuit, and if there had it certainly had not been on her part, but it seemed pointless to argue
. She shrugged. “Regardless, I do not understand what that has to do with the present.”
“Don’t play coy with me
. It’s clear that you are after Huismans. I know how the games are played.”
“I assure you nothing could be further from the truth
. We were merely talking about pretty things and flowers.” Marguerite looked over at the men who were engrossed in their cards. There was no salvation there.
“See you do know what I am talking about.
” Lady Harburton nodded smugly.
“No, I do not.”
“Pretty things and flowers, you said it yourself.”
Marguerite was growing more lost by the moment
. Was there nobody here who spoke a language she understood?
“Everybody always wants what’s mine.
” Lady Harburton settled herself back. Her gaze turned to the men as well. Marguerite did not like the way her eyes devoured Tristan.
“I do not believe he was ever yours,” Marguerite spoke firmly.