“I like your brother,” Jessica said as she and Gideon settled
against the velvet squabs of the Redgrave town coach for a ride of merely
blocks. “He’s serious when he has to be, and quick enough to understand what to
say and what not to say. He didn’t ask a single question that would have made me
uncomfortable, although I’m sure his head was buzzing with them. Do you really
think he’ll leave?”
“Yes, I do. It was putting him in charge of Kate that turned
the corner for us. The thought she might actually discover the journals was all
the incentive he needed. Plus, he understands now why I want Adam away from
London. We’re certain he’s safe from the Society, but I’d rather be more than
certain. You know, you didn’t tell me how you convinced Kate to leave.”
“Oh, that was easy enough. I told her you wanted her to stay in
London, fearful that she’d try hunting out the journals if she went back to
Redgrave Manor.”
“And she believed you?”
“Probably not. But I know she wants to help, and finding the
journals might be a help. So it worked out.”
“Once again proving women are smarter than men. She and I would
have all but come to blows before I would have been able to boost her out of
town. My congratulations.” He lifted the curtain and peered through the window.
“Good. We’ve just turned in to the Square. Sally Jersey’s a good friend, so
don’t be intimidated when she looks you up and down as if you’re a race horse
she’s considering purchasing. Just remember you’re the most beautiful woman in
the room. Any room.”
“I’m not nervous. I’ve been looked up and down before, Gideon,
and in surroundings far less civilized than a London mansion,” she told him.
“Besides, I’m with you, so there’s nobody who would dare say or do anything to
upset me. Because, as I recall the comment, you Redgraves spit bigger than most
people.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I should have our crest
reworked to include that somehow, shouldn’t I? Would it sound better in Latin,
do you think?”
“Probably not even in Greek. Now, tell me again about Lord
Charles and Mr. Urban. You can recognize them both on sight?”
“Yes, although I can’t say we’re friends. Urban is also a
member of the Four-in-Hand Club, although I rarely ride with them anymore. Lord
Charles is on his second wife, the first having died a few years ago. A fall
down the stairs, or from a cliff that gave way while she was out walking,
something like that.” He heard what he’d just said and looked quizzically at
Jessica. “You don’t suppose...”
Jessica wrapped her shawl more tightly about her. “It’s easy to
become fanciful, isn’t it? Is Mr. Urban married?”
“I don’t know. We can’t even be certain either one of them will
be here tonight, save for the fact that nobody turns down an invitation from
Sally Jersey, not if they’re at all concerned with being seen as the very crème
of the
ton.
I’m only sorry your first evening of the
Season is going to be spent playing at spy, but we have no time to waste.”
“I understand. I’d also like to get it over with as quickly as
possible. There will be whispers, with my father’s death only a month behind us.
Should I prepare to be cut by some of the other guests—over and above your
immense consequence as Saltwood, that is?”
“My consequence has little to do with it. You simply never know
what a Redgrave might dare if provoked, you understand. They’d be more afraid
I’d toss somebody off a balcony or bloody their elevated noses for them. You
can’t trust a Redgrave, you know. Kate proved that again just last Season. Poor
society. It can’t avoid us, it can’t ignore us, and it can’t turn away from us
because we fascinate them so. At least that’s what Trixie believes.”
“I imagine gaining a Special License to wed the sister of your
new ward, the woman you announced as your fiancée not even two weeks ago, and
then bringing her to a ball within twenty-four hours of your hasty marriage is
just the sort of thing society expects from you?”
Gideon considered this for a moment, as the groom let down the
steps of the town carriage. “You know, Jessica, I just may have topped myself.
But no matter what, from now on it’s up to Max and Val to hold up the family’s
reputation for scandal. I can’t possibly think of anything to cap the stir the
two of us are going to cause in the next few minutes.”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased,” she pointed out as he
helped her onto the flagway and into the light cast by the large flambeaux
flanking the front door of the mansion. “Anyone would think we’re on our way to
a fair. Should I be prepared to watch as you balance a ball on your nose?”
“No, but I may kiss my wife on the nose while on the dance
floor, just to remind everyone that I am husband to the most beautiful,
desirable woman in the room. Listen closely, and you’ll hear the gnashing of
envious teeth, not because of the kiss, but because they will all know what’s
going to happen once I take you home. Poor devils. I have never been accused of
being a particularly nice man.”
“Or particularly modest, either, I’d imagine. What makes you
believe anything at all will happen once you
take me
home?
”
Gideon extended his arm to her, and she slipped hers around his
elbow as they entered the mansion and crossed to the now empty staircase. “Two
things, really. One, I’m a hopeful man by nature. And two, I am fully prepared
to grovel.”
Jessica’s delightful peal of laughter had just the effect
Gideon had been striving for, as everyone at the top of the stairs turned to
look down at the approaching couple. What they saw, he knew, was a beautiful,
flame-haired creature dressed in the first stare of fashion, her exquisitely
designed ivory gown alight with spangles, the Redgrave diamonds at her throat,
wrist and fingers catching every bit of light thrown by the huge chandelier
above their heads—all put in the shade by the genuine, open smile of a woman
totally at ease with herself and her world.
His wife. His countess. Not his penance, not his love, yet not
simply his possession. Just
his.
And Gideon Redgrave
protected what was his.
“Gideon, you monster, I thought you were going to snub me!”
Sally Jersey called down from the receiving line. “Instead, you’ve brought me a
present—the
coup
of the Season thus far, and most
probably forever.”
Gideon bowed over Lady Jersey’s hand even as Jessica dropped
into a graceful curtsy.
“And now you owe me a favor, Silence, my dear,” he said
quietly. “I wish a waltz to immediately follow the announcement of my arrival.
Now, now, don’t open your pretty mouth to tell me that’s impossible. You may not
yet condone the thing at your dreary Almacks, but does society really dictate to
Sally Jersey in her own home?”
“You court scandal as others crave their daily bread,” the
countess whispered back, but then summoned a liveried footman, to send him
scurrying off to inform the small orchestra of her demand. “Here, as I was just
about to leave my post, anyway, I’ll walk between you as you enter the ballroom,
to lend you my consequence, not that you need it. By the way, the dowager
countess is here, titillating us all as usual, and holding court over a
veritable coterie of young admirers, all rigged out in their regimental colors.
She arrived on Selsby’s arm, and he’s been virtually sitting at her feet all the
evening long, like some hopeful puppy. The man is barely out of leading strings
when compared to Trixie, Gideon. You don’t suppose the two of them are— No, I
won’t even say the words.”
“Please don’t or I might blush, and that wouldn’t do wonders
for my consequence.” He stopped just at the entrance to the ballroom and lifted
his quizzing glass to his eye. “You’ve got the entire world here, haven’t you,
all cheek by jowl? My congratulations, not that I’m surprised. Tell me, did you
deign to invite Lord Charles Mailer or the Right Honorable Archibald Urban?”
The countess looked at him out of the corners of her eyes.
“Why? What did they do? Is it delicious? Are you going to cause a scene?”
“Not at all. Are they here?”
“I shouldn’t answer, not when you’re going to drive me wild
with speculation. But, yes, they’re both here. Lord Charles and his little mouse
of a bride, Archie Urban and his patently unhappy spouse. But I’ll let you find
them on your own.” She turned and nodded to a servant on her right, who
immediately puffed himself up and announced the arrival of the Earl of Saltwood
and his lady countess in a suitably stentorian tone.
The reaction was all Gideon could have hoped for. Conversations
cut off. Heads turned. He bowed over Sally’s hand and then extended his left arm
to Jessica a heartbeat before the orchestra struck up the scandalous waltz.
“Take my hand.”
“Should I point out I’ve only waltzed with my dancing master, a
less formal country waltz at that, and it was over five years ago, sans musical
accompaniment?” Jessica asked as she put her hand in his and he drew her out
onto the floor. “Something you might have considered before pulling me along
after you like some tricked-out pony expected to perform.”
But she was smiling as she said it, so that Gideon’s heart,
which admittedly skipped a beat at this news, calmed once more. “I’m not putting
you on show, although it occurs to me now you might think so. Sally, who owes me
more than a single favor, has just bestowed her stamp of approval, and we are
going to, pardon my crudity, milk that teat for all it’s worth.” He took her
hand in his. “Are you ready?”
Jessica stepped back, dropping into a curtsy even as she
seemingly effortlessly found the silken ring of fabric on her gown and slipped
her finger through it, raising the right side of her overskirt so that it would
float through every dip and turn of the dance. “I’ll want to hear more about
this promised groveling, my lord, I believe,” she said as his hand went to her
waist, her arm lifted to his shoulder. “In detail.”
Now it was Gideon’s laughter that drew the attention of anyone
who had not already noticed the stunningly handsome couple standing together on
the otherwise deserted dance floor. “You’re a wicked woman, Jessica
Redgrave.”
“Agreed. But first, we dance our waltz. I’m confident it’s much
like riding a horse. It shouldn’t take me more than a few moments to recall the
movements.”
“You do ride well,” he agreed, tongue-in-cheek as he eased her
into the first turn of the waltz. “I’d have to term your
movements
exemplary.”
“Although doubtless capable of improvement, with repetition.”
And then she winked at him. His mind flashed a quick, taunting image of her
above him, her breasts bare, her head thrown back as he gripped her hips, as
their bodies melded. He very nearly trod on her toes.
Oh, good, she’s not a stickler,
Kate had said.
We’ve no simpering miss here,
Trixie had declared.
And they’d both been correct.
Because what they
had here,
what
Gideon had found—and he knew he could take no credit for the discovery—was the
most magnificent creature in the world, a rare combination of beauty and
bravery, intelligence and humor, goodness and fire.
Together, Jessica as light as any feather in his arms, they
whirled about the dance floor as, two-by-two, other couples dared to join in the
scandalous waltz. Their eyes remained locked on each other, their smiles hinting
of things that put onlookers to the blush, breaking every rule, and wonderfully
so, spending perhaps their first true moments together, their most personal
moment of discovery here, in Sally Jersey’s candlelit ballroom, in the midst of
all of the
ton.
It was above all things amazing. And wonderful. And
humbling.
His wife. His countess. And yes, quite possibly, one day soon,
his
love.
* * *
T
HEY
MADE
THE
ROUNDS
OF
the ballroom for over an hour, Jessica’s head
positively spinning from all the introductions, all the names and faces that
seemed to swim in front of her eyes as she clung to Gideon’s arm.
There were a few whose greetings were rather strained, as if
they were being polite only under duress, and more than one or two of the
highest sticklers quickly found their way to the supper room in order to avoid
the couple completely without being forced to give them the cut direct. But that
was of no matter.
Jessica had only one awkward moment, when introduced to Lord
and Lady Kettering, whose estate bordered on that of her late father. They
gushed over her, saying how they’d always thought she was the most splendid girl
and they hadn’t believed the half of what they’d heard from her stepmother.
“You mistake the matter. You heard nothing,” Gideon had told
them in that way he had about him, smooth, polite, and yet all of it wound
around a rock any fool knew they did not wish to see unwrapped. The couple
hastened to agree and then excused themselves.
“Bully,” Jessica told him.
“Yes, a large part of my charm, don’t you think? But a lesson
here, if I might. You swiftly and firmly deal with what must be dealt with, and
ignore the rest. There is nothing quite so unsettling to people who wish to
upset you than for you to ignore their efforts. Of course, there are exceptions,
those you can’t ignore. And there she is.”
And then, as if he’d avoided the encounter for as long as
possible, Jessica found herself curtsying to the Dowager Countess of Saltwood,
who looked much at her ease as she half reclined on a gilt-backed couch, her
tiny slippered feel resting on the thighs of the young soldier who’d positioned
himself on the floor as if his main goal in life had always been to be a living
footstool. Behind her, another young swain waved an ivory stick fan to help ward
off the heat of the ballroom.