The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories (8 page)

Before her mother-in-law could reconsider, Sunny said, “Very true—until she marries, Alexandra belongs at Swindon.”

“
If
she ever marries,” the dowager said viciously. Knowing that she was defeated and that the only way to salvage her dignity was to pretend that moving was her own idea, she added, “You shall have to learn to run the household yourself, Sarah, for I have been longing to travel. I believe I shall spend the rest of the winter in southern France. England is so dismal at this season.” Ramrod straight, she marched from the room.

Sunny, Justin and Alexandra were left sitting in brittle silence. Not daring to meet her husband's eyes, Sunny said, “I'm sorry if I was disrespectful to your mother, but…but I'm not sorry for what I said.”

“That's a contradiction in terms,” he said, sounding more weary than angry. After a long silence, he said, “By the way, I saw Lord Hopstead in London, and he invited us for a weekend visit and ball at Cottenham. I thought
the three of us could go, then you could take Alexandra on to Paris for her fittings.”

Relieved that he didn't refer to her confrontation with the dowager, Sunny said, “That sounds delightful. Are you ready for your first ball, Alexandra? I have a gown that will look marvelous on you with only minor alterations.”

“That's very kind of you,” a subdued Alexandra said.

For several minutes, they stiffly discussed the proposed trip, none of them making any allusion to the dowager's rout. It was like ignoring the fact that an elephant was in the room.

Finally Sunny got to her feet. “I'm very tired tonight. If you two will excuse me, I'll go to bed now.”

Her temples throbbed as she went to her room, but under her shakiness, she was triumphant. Without the dowager's poisonous presence, life at Swindon would improve remarkably.

She changed to her nightgown and climbed into bed, wondering if Justin would visit her. Ordinarily he did after returning from a journey, but perhaps he would stay away if he was displeased with the way she had treated his mother.

Though it shamed her to admit it, she had come to look forward to his conjugal visits. One particular night stood out in her mind. She had been drifting in the misty zone between sleep and waking when her husband came. Though aware of his presence, she had been too drowsy to move her languid limbs.

Instead of waking her, he had given a small sigh, then stretched out beside her, his warm body against hers, his quiet breath caressing her temple. After several minutes he began stroking her, his hand gliding gently over her torso. She had lain utterly still, embarrassed by the
yearning sensations that tingled in her breasts and other unmentionable places. Pleasure thickened inside her until she had had to bite her lip to keep from moaning and moving against his hand.

Fortunately, before she disgraced herself, he dozed off, his hand cupping her breast. Slowly her tension had dissipated until she also slept. Her rest was remarkably deep, considering that she had never in her life shared a bed with another person.

But when she awoke the next morning, he was gone. She might have thought she had dreamed the episode if not for the imprint of her husband's head on the pillow and a faint, lingering masculine scent. It had occurred to her that people who could not afford to have separate bedrooms might be luckier than they knew.

She had been mortified by the knowledge that she had the nature of a wanton. The next time she saw Katie Westron, she must find the boldness to ask how a woman could control her carnality, for surely Katie would know. Until then, Sunny would simply have to exercise will-power. She could almost hear her mother saying, “You are a lady. Behave like one.”

Yet still she longed for her husband's company. She had almost given up hope that he would join her when the connecting door quietly opened and he padded across the deep carpet. As he slipped into the bed, she touched his arm to show that she was awake and willing. He slid his hand beneath the covers and drew up the hem of her nightgown.

Perhaps the evening's drama was affecting her, for she found it particularly difficult to keep silent while he prepared her for intercourse. Those strange feelings that were part pleasure, part pain, fluttered through her as he smoothed lotion over her sensitive female parts.

When he entered her, heat pulsed through those same
parts, then expanded to other parts of her body. She caught her breath, unable to entirely suppress her reaction.

Immediately he stopped moving. “Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” She knotted her hands and pressed her limbs rigidly into the mattress. “No, you didn't hurt me.”

Gently he began rocking back and forth again. The slowness of his movements caused deeply disquieting sensations. Yet curiously, instead of wanting them to stop, she wanted more. It was hard, so hard, to be still….

His breathing quickened in the way that told her that the end was near. He gave a muffled groan and made a final deep thrust. Then the tension went out of him.

She felt a corresponding easing in herself, as if her feelings were intertwined with his. She was tempted to slide her arms around him, for she had a most unladylike desire to keep his warm, hard body pressed tightly against her. Perhaps he might fall asleep with her again.

But that was not what men and women of good breeding did. Her parents had not shared a room. After Sunny's birth, they had probably not even had conjugal relations, for she was the youngest in the family. Once her father had two sons to work in the business and her mother had a daughter for companionship, there had been no need for more babies.

Justin lifted his weight from her. After pulling her gown down again, he lightly touched her hair. She wanted to catch his hand and beg him to stay, but of course she didn't.

Then he left her.

When the connecting door between their chambers closed, Sunny released her breath in a shuddering sigh, then rolled over and hugged a pillow to her chest. She felt restless impatience and a kind of itchy discomfort in her female parts. Her hand slid down her torso. Perhaps if she rubbed herself there…

Horrified, she flopped onto her back and clenched her hands into fists. Her nurse and her mother had made it clear that a woman never touched herself “down there” unless she had to.

She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. She was trying her very best to be a good wife. But from what she could see, a good wife was a lonely woman.

 

I
N A FLURRY OF TRUNKS AND
contradictory orders, the Dowager Duchess of Thornborough moved herself and a substantial number of Swindon's finest antiques to the elegant Dower House on the far side of the estate. Then she promptly decamped to the French Riviera, there to flaunt her rank and make slanderous hints about her son's inadequacies and her daughter-in-law's insolence. The one thing Justin was sure she would not say was the truth—that a slip of a girl had maneuvered the dowager out of Swindon Palace.

Life was much easier with his mother gone. He and Sunny and Alexandra dined
en famille,
with much less formality and far more enjoyment. His sister was blossoming under Sunny's kind guidance, and no longer dreaded her social debut.

What wasn't prospering was his marriage. Ever since his incredibly clumsy remark about sparing future dukes the necessity of marrying for money, there had been strain between him and Sunny. What he had meant was that he wanted financial considerations to be irrelevant.

Unfortunately, she had believed the unintended insult rather than his heartfelt declaration that he would have wanted to marry her anyhow. Because he had accidentally hurt her, she had struck back, hurting him in return when she had underlined the fact that their marriage had nothing to do with love.

Fearing that more explanations would only make
matters worse, he hadn't raised the subject again. Eventually memory of the incident would fade, but in the meantime Sunny had pulled further away from him. She was courteous, compliant—and as distant as if an ocean still divided them. Sometimes she trembled during their wordless conjugal couplings, and he feared that she was recoiling from his touch. If she had verbally objected, perhaps he could have controlled his desires and stopped inflicting himself on her. But she said nothing, and he did not have the strength to stay away.

As they prepared to go to the ball at Cottenham Manor, he hoped that Sunny's return to society would cheer her. She deserved laughter and frivolity and admiration.

Yet though he wanted her to be happy, the knowledge that she would be surrounded by adoring, predatory men terrified him. If she was miserable in her marriage, how long would it be before she looked elsewhere?

If you would be troubled, take a wife.

Cottenham Manor
March

C
OTTENHAM
M
ANOR, SEAT
of the Earl of Hopstead, was almost as grand and large as Swindon Palace. Lord and Lady Hopstead were famous for their entertainments, and Sunny had spent a long and happy weekend at Cottenham the previous summer. It was a pleasure to return, and as her maid fastened a sapphire and diamond necklace around her neck, she hummed softly to herself.

“Madame is happy tonight,” Antoinette observed as she handed Sunny the matching eardrops.

Sunny put on the eardrops, then turned her head so she could see the play of light in the sapphire pendants. “I've been looking forward to this ball for weeks. What a silly custom it is for a bride to rusticate for months after the wedding.”

“But think how much more you will appreciate society after wintering in the depths of the English countryside.”

“That's true.” Sunny rose with a rich whisper of taffeta petticoats. She was wearing a sumptuous blue brocade gown, one of Worth's finest, and she was ready to be admired.

“You must sit until I have put on your tiara,” Antoinette said reprovingly.

Obediently Sunny sat again and braced herself for the
weight of the Thornborough tiara. The massive, diamond-studded coronet would give her a headache, but it wouldn't be proper for a duchess to attend a ball without one, particularly since the Prince of Wales would be present.

Just as the maid was finishing, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. Antoinette crossed the room and admitted Alexandra. Dressed in a white silk gown that shimmered with every movement, the younger girl had a fairylike grace. Her dark hair had been swept up to show the delicate line of her throat, and her complexion glowed with youth and good health.

“You look marvelous,” Sunny said warmly. “Turn around so I can see all of you.”

Her sister-in-law colored prettily as she obeyed. “You were right about the gown. Even though this one wasn't made for me, it's so lovely that one can't help but feel beautiful.”

“It looks better on you than it ever did on me. You'll be the belle of the ball.”

“No, you will.” Alexandra chuckled. “But at least I don't think that I'll be a wallflower.”

Another knock sounded on the door. This time it was Justin, come to take his wife and sister down to the dinner that would precede the ball. Sunny had hoped that there would be so many people at Cottenham that they would be put in the same room, but such intimacy was unthinkable in the fashionable set. The previous night, she had slept alone. Perhaps tonight…

Hastily she suppressed the improper thought.

After he examined them both, Justin said gravely, “You will be the two most beautiful women at the ball. Alex, I shall have a dozen men clamoring for your hand before the evening is over.”

As Alexandra beamed, he offered one arm to his wife and one to his sister, then led them into the hall. As they
descended the broad stairs, Sunny asked, “Will you dance with me tonight?”

He gave her a quizzical glance. “You would dance with a mere husband?”

“Please.” Afraid that she might sound pathetic, she added lightly, “I know that it's not fashionable to dance with one's spouse, but it isn't actually scandalous.”

He gave her one of the rare smiles that took her breath away. “Then it will be my very great pleasure.”

As they entered the salon where the other guests had gathered, Sunny's heart was already dancing.

 

T
HE
H
OPSTEADS' BALL WAS
an excellent place to rejoin society, and Sunny enjoyed greeting people she had met the year before. During a break after the fourth dance, she came across her godmother, who was resplendent in coral-and-silver silk. “Aunt Katie!” Sunny gave her a hug. “I hoped you would be here. You're not staying at Cottenham, are you?”

“No, I'm at the Howards'. Every great house in the district is full of guests who have come for this ball.” Katie affectionately tucked a tendril of Sunny's flyaway hair in place. “You're in fine looks. By any chance are you…?”

“Please, don't ask me if I'm expecting a blessed event! I swear, every female at the ball has inquired. I'm beginning to feel like a dreadful failure.”

“Nonsense—you've only been married a few months.” Katie chuckled. “It's just that we're all such gossips, and like it or not, you're a subject of great interest.”

Sunny made a face. “Luckily there will soon be other heiresses to capture society's attention.” The two women chatted for a few minutes and made an engagement for the next morning.

Then Sunny glanced beyond Katie, and her heart froze
in her breast. On the far side of the room was Paul Curzon, tall and distinguished and heart-stoppingly handsome.

As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, and for a paralyzing instant their eyes met. Shocked by the way her knees weakened, Sunny turned to Katie and stammered, “I must go now. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Then she caught her train up with one hand and headed for the nearest door, scarcely noticing when she bumped into other guests. Sometimes escape was more important than manners.

 

O
NE OF THE DRAWBACKS OF
socializing was the number of people who hoped to enlist ducal support for some cause or other. This time, it was a junior government minister talking about an upcoming bill. Justin listened patiently, half of his attention on the minister, the other half anticipating the next dance, which would be with Sunny. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw his wife leave the ballroom, her face pale. He frowned, wondering if she was feeling ill.

He was about to excuse himself when he saw Paul Curzon go out the same side door that Sunny had used. Justin's face stiffened as a horrible suspicion seized him.

Seeing his expression, the minister said earnestly, “I swear, your grace, the scheme is perfectly sound. If you wish, I'll show you the figures.”

Justin realized that he couldn't even remember what the damned bill was about. Brusquely he said, “Send me the information and I'll give you my decision in a week.”

Hoping desperately that he was wrong, he brushed
aside the minister's thanks and made his way after his wife and the man whom she might still love.

 

W
ITHOUT CONSCIOUS THOUGHT,
Sunny chose the conservatory for her refuge. It was at the opposite end of the house from the ball, and as she had hoped, she had it to herself.

Cottenham was noted for its magnificent indoor garden, and scattered gaslights illuminated banks of flowers and lush tropical shrubbery. Though rain drummed on the glass panels far above her head, inside the air was balmy and richly scented.

She took a deep breath, then set out along one of the winding brick paths. It had been foolish to become upset at the sight of Paul Curzon, for she had known that inevitably they would meet. But she had not expected it to be tonight. If she had been mentally prepared, she would have been able to accept his presence with equanimity.

Yet honesty compelled her to admit that in the first instant, she had felt some of the excitement she had known in the days when she had loved him. In the days when she
thought
she loved him, before she had discovered his baseness.

As always, nature helped her regain her composure. If she hadn't been dressed in a ball gown, she would have looked for some plants to repot. Instead, she picked a gardenia blossom and inhaled the delicate perfume.

As she did, a familiar voice said huskily, “The conservatory was a perfect choice, darling. No one will see us here.”

“Paul!” The shock was as great as when she had first seen him, and spasmodically she crushed the gardenia blossom in her palm. After a fierce struggle for control, she turned and said evenly, “I didn't come here to meet you, Paul, but to get away from you. We have nothing to say to each other.”

Unfortunately the way out lay past him. As she tried to slip by without her broad skirts touching him, he caught her hand. “Sunny, don't go yet,” he begged. “I'm sorry if I misunderstood why you came here, but I wanted so much to see you that hope warped my judgment. I made the worst mistake of my life with you. At least give me a chance to apologize.”

Reluctantly she stopped, as much because of the narrow aisle as because of his words. “I'm not interested in your apologies.” As she spoke, she looked into his face, which was a mistake. He didn't look base; he looked sincere, and sinfully handsome.

“If you won't let me apologize, then let me say how much I love you.” A tremor sounded in his voice. “I truly didn't know how much until I lost you.”

Reminding herself that he had looked equally honest before he had broken her heart, she tried to free her hand, saying tartly, “Perhaps you think that you love me
because
you lost me. Isn't that how people like you play at love?”

His grip tightened. “This is different! The fact that you were willing to marry me is the greatest honor I've ever known. But I let myself be blinded by worldly considerations, and now I'm paying for my folly. Both of us are.”

“There's no point in talking like this! The past can't be changed, and I'm a married woman now.”

“Perhaps the past can't be changed, but the future can be.” He put his hand under her chin and turned her face to his. “Love is too precious to throw away.”

His gaze holding hers, he pressed his heated lips to her gloved fingers. “You are so beautiful, Sunny. I have never loved a woman as much as I love you.”

She knew that she should break away, for she didn't love him, didn't really trust his protestations of devotion.
Yet her parched heart yearned for warmth, for words of love, even ones that might be false.

Her inner struggle held her paralyzed as he put his arms around her and bent his head for a kiss. In a moment, she would push him away and leave. Yet even though it was wrong, for just an instant she would let him hold her….

 

T
HE CONSERVATORY SEEMED
like the most likely spot for dalliance, but Justin had only been there once, and he lost precious time with a wrong turn. His heart was pounding with fear when he finally reached his destination and threw open the door. He paused on the threshold and scanned the shadowy garden, praying that he was wrong.

But through the dense vegetation, he saw a shimmering patch of blue the shade of Sunny's gown. Down a brick path, around a bend…and he found his wife in Paul Curzon's arms.

The pain was worse than anything Justin had ever known. For a moment he stood stock-still as nausea pulsed through him.

Then came rage. Stalking forward, he snarled, “If you expect me to be a complaisant husband, you're both fools.”

The two broke apart instantly, and Sunny whirled to him, her face white. Justin grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from Curzon. Then he looked his rival in the eye and said with lethal precision, “If you ever come near my wife again, I will destroy you.”

“No need to carry on so, old man,” Curzon said hastily. “It was merely a friendly kiss between acquaintances.”

Justin's free hand knotted into a fist.
“I will destroy you.”

As Curzon paled, Justin turned and swept his wife
away, heedless of the difficulty that she had keeping up in her high-heeled kid slippers. When she stumbled, his grip tightened to keep her from falling, but he did not slow down.

Wanting to ease the rage in his face, she said desperately, “Justin, that wasn't what you think.”

He gave her a piercing glance. “It looked very much like a kiss to me. Am I wrong?”

“Yes, but…but it didn't really mean anything.”

“If kisses mean nothing to you, does that mean you'll give them to any man?” he asked bitterly. “Or only those with whom you have assignations?”

“You're deliberately misunderstanding me! I went to the conservatory to avoid Paul, not to meet him. I know that I shouldn't have let him kiss me, but it was just a…a temporary aberration that happened only because there were once…warmer feelings between us.”

“And if I hadn't come, they would have become warmer yet. If I had been ten minutes later…” His voice broke.

Guilt rose in a choking wave. Though she had not sought the encounter with Paul, she had not left when she should, and she had allowed him to kiss her. Might the warmth of Paul's embrace have dissolved her knowledge of right and wrong? She wanted to believe that morality would have triumphed—but treacherous doubt gnawed at her. Since she had discovered her wanton nature, she could no longer trust herself.

They reached the hallway below the main staircase. Several couples were enjoying the cooler air there, and they all turned to stare at the duke and duchess. Dropping her voice, Sunny whispered, “Let go of me! What will people think?”

“I don't give a tinker's dam what anyone thinks.” He began climbing the staircase, still holding tightly to
her wrist to keep her at his side. “Your behavior is what concerns me.”

He followed the upstairs corridor to her bedchamber, pulled her inside, then slammed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock. The room was empty, lit only by the soft glow of a gas lamp. She edged uneasily away, for this furious man was a stranger, and he was starting to frighten her.

They stared at each other across the width of the room. With the same lethal intensity he had directed at Paul, Justin growled, “In the Middle Ages, I could have locked you in a tower or a chastity belt. A century ago, I could have challenged any man who came near you to a duel. But what can a man do about a faithless wife in these modern times?”

His words triggered her secret fear. “What about faithless husbands?” she retorted. “I've been told that men like you always have mistresses. Is the real reason for your trips to London another woman—one that you couldn't have because you had to marry for money?”