His Lady Mistress (30 page)

Richard claimed Verity for a stroll straight after the dance and Max watched her go, frowning. She was safe enough with Richard, but what
was
she up to?

My memory is neither at fault, nor am I in the least stupid.

He smiled automatically at various acquaintances and returned vague replies to several. Damn it. Anyone would think she was
trying
to whip up a scan—His whirling thoughts hitched on that, focused and saw the truth. Hell! That was exactly what she was trying to do! He’d said he would cast her off if she created a public scandal. Cold sweat broke out on him as he realised how far she would go to regain her freedom. He’d forged the weapon and she intended to use it. Against herself.

Verity smiled and answered politely as she strolled with Richard and greeted this person and that. Her headache pulsed brutally. How long would it take to spring the trap on herself? Could she get it over and done with this evening?

A light, charming voice greeted her. ‘Good evening, Lady Blakehurst. Hullo, Ricky. Playing watchdog this evening?’

Verity looked up into Lord Braybrook’s smiling blue eyes.

He bowed over her hand and said, ‘I believe we agreed on this dance, ma’am.’

‘We…we did,’ she said, forcing a smile, despite the beat behind her eyes.

‘Max is here this evening, Julian,’ remarked Richard.

Braybrook glanced at him. ‘Yes. So I saw. About time. Shall we, my dear?’

With another wholly false smile, Verity gave him her hand and curtsied.

Her headache worsened as she danced, until she felt sick with it and the blaze of light hurt her eyes even as the screech of the violins shredded her and the roar of conversation pounded on her brain. If only she could escape to some dark, quiet corner…close her eyes…

Braybrook whirled her through a turn and she stumbled, dizzy and confused. Even when they had completed the turn the room kept spinning.

‘My lord…please. Could we stop?’

He frowned down at her. ‘I think we’d better.’ He swung her out of the dance close to one of the doors leading on to the terrace. ‘Hmm. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. That should help if you feel sick.’

She shut her eyes and obeyed him. It worked. Opening her eyes, she smiled shakily. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘If you would excuse me, I think I might go out on to the terrace for a moment.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. A little fresh air will help too.’

Relieved that he understood, Verity took one, and then another, careful step. Now that she was not spinning around, she felt less dizzy, but the blinding ache remained. She would have to go home, but right now she doubted that she would make it across the ballroom without fainting.

Gratefully she breathed the cool air of the terrace. After the over-scented heat of the ballroom it felt like paradise. A broad balustrade ran around the edge, wide enough to sit on safely. Light poured from the windows, but she could see a darker corner where she could rest her eyes.

To her surprise she found that Lord Braybrook had accom
panied her across the flagstones. ‘It’s very kind of you, sir, but I shall be better directly. I just need to sit quietly for a moment, you know,’ she told him.

‘Not at all, ma’am,’ he assured her. ‘A pleasure. The ballroom was a trifle stuffy.’

He sat down beside her. And Verity suddenly realised what she had done. She was alone on the terrace with one of London’s most notorious rakes.

Chapter Fourteen

M
ax saw them go and swore under his breath. Julian’s brain must be addled taking her out there! Damned fool! The last thing he needed was to have to go out to Paddington and face Braybrook over pistols just to keep up appearances. He cast a worried glance around. Who else had seen?

On the far side of the ballroom, Almeria looked like a bird dog on point. Damn and double damn! What would she do about it? Somehow he didn’t think he could count on Almeria’s discretion. To his absolute horror, he saw her lean towards her companion, the feathers in her turban nodding wildly. His fists clenched. If he didn’t do something…but what? Almeria was making sure that as many people as possible would be watching that door when Verity returned.

He’d have to make sure they didn’t see what they were expecting to see.

‘A lovely night, Lady Blakehurst,’ Braybrook remarked.

‘Y…yes. I suppose it is,’ she faltered. What on earth should she do? If Max had seen them…Her headache gave a vicious surge as she remembered that this was very much what she had planned. Sort of. For Max to believe…to believe…except she had meant someone else to break the news to Max that she was having an affair. And she certainly
hadn’t meant to linger on a darkened terrace with a rake whose reputation was only rivalled by her husband’s. She clutched her reticule in shaking hands.

‘And the refreshments are of excellent quality,’ he went on.

Even through the haze of confusion and headache, it occurred to Verity that this was a most peculiar line of conversation for a man bent on seduction. Not that she had much experience of men bent on seduction, but he hadn’t even touched her.

Even as she wondered, his large hand closed over both hers, stilling the trembling. She jerked back with a gasp.

‘You know, Lady Blakehurst, whatever tarradiddles Lady Arnsworth and Ricky Blakehurst may have told you, I’m quite harmless.’

Footsteps sounded, and a quiet voice. ‘Good evening, Julian. Verity.’

Max stood on the steps leading up from the garden, his face unreadable. The world contracted. Now would come the explosion she had invited, had planned for. She braced herself for the torrent of bitter accusations.

Braybrook hailed Max cheerfully. ‘Ah, there you are, Blakehurst. I wondered how long it would take you to find us. Here’s your wife. You might like to take her home, old chap. I fancy she has the headache.’

What?

Her husband regarded her for a moment. Then his gaze flickered to Braybrook. ‘Thank you, Julian, for looking after her. I’m very grateful. Could you do me another favour and disappear the way I came? You’ll find the library window open. I believe it might be best if
I
took Verity back inside.’

Grateful?

‘Seen, were we?’ asked Braybrook. ‘Curst tabbies! A fellow can’t even behave with disinterested chivalry without them hoping the worst! What the devil did they think I’d do
to her out here with you present? I’d need to have a death wish! Servant, Lady Blakehurst. I’ll be off. Evening, Max.’

Verity’s mind flailed around trying to understand what the pair of them were about.
Grateful?
Max was supposed to be furious, wasn’t he? Threatening to divorce her for creating a scandal? Instead he’d thanked Lord Braybrook and now sat beside her on the balustrade, his arm around her shoulders and his free hand massaging her temple.

She gave up trying to think and rested her forehead against his chest, while he rubbed gently. She could feel the tension ebbing in waves, slowly receding from her body, leaving her strangely at peace. He hadn’t believed it. He had trusted her. Did she dare to trust him again?

‘Better?’ His voice soothed her insensibly.

‘Much. Thank you.’

‘Good. I’ll take you home soon.’ The husky voice caressed her. The hand that had been easing her headache brushed over her cheek, long fingers sliding under her chin, tilting it until she was looking up into his shadowed face. Longing melted her, dissolving her defences. He was close, so close. She could feel the heat in him, see the pulse beating in his throat.

From a great distance the sounds of the ball echoed, but she heard it only dimly above the sudden pounding of her heart. Gentle hands held her, casting a tender, protective spell. Reason, caution warned her:
The spell will not survive the dawn.

She didn’t care. The tenderness in his smile, in his eyes, breached every barrier.

The spell exploded in shocked accents. ‘Well! Really! My poor nephew! Have you no shame, you hussy?’

Max froze at Almeria’s self-righteous voice.

‘If you think that Blakehurst will countenance…’

His arms tightened protectively as he turned very slightly to face his aunt.

The triumph leached from her face. ‘
Blakehurst?
But what happened to…I…I mean…’ Her hand clutched at her throat.

Max wished she would strangle herself and have done. He knew precisely what had happened. Braybrook was about his height, with dark hair. From the back, in the shadows, it must have looked as though all Almeria’s cards had turned up trumps. Rage seared him as he saw how many avid scandalmongers she had brought with her. They crowded at her back, gathered for the kill.

He fought to keep his voice indifferent. ‘Do you know, Aunt, you are decidedly
de trop
. And I completely fail to see why I should be pitied. Being caught on a terrace with one’s
own
wife is unusual, but hardly a crime. I’m certainly not going to call myself out over it. Perhaps you would be good enough to excuse us. My wife has the headache and I am about to escort her home.’

They spoke very little at first. Max settled her in the carriage, draped his coat around her shoulders, then her evening cloak and a rug he pulled from under the seat. Then, ignoring her feeble protest, he pulled her into his arms and held her.

She gave up and rested her head on his shoulder. Whatever his reasons, she couldn’t fight his tenderness, his consideration.

The carriage had turned into Berkeley Square before Max spoke.

‘I want one thing clear, Verity. No matter what sort of scandal you kick up, how appalling, how public, it won’t induce me to release you. Do you understand me?’ The harsh voice, so at odds with the gentle fingers massaging her temple, froze her.

Confused, she said, ‘But…I thought you wanted to be rid of me, that you wanted your freedom?’

His arms hardened. ‘You won’t gain your freedom that—’ He broke off. Shocked silence burned between them. ‘Did you say
my
freedom?’ Angry fingers gripped her shoulders, digging in as he swung her to face him. ‘Damn it, Verity! Did you try to kick up a scandal to release
me
?
Did
you?’

Seeing the hard-edged anger in his face, she could only nod.

‘
Hell’s teeth!
What sort of brute do you take me for?’

The hurt fury in his voice choked her. ‘You…you said…’

‘You little idiot! I was angry! You
can’t
have believed I meant…’ His voice faded. ‘Oh, my God. You did believe it, didn’t you? That I’d leap at the chance to be rid of you?’

She nodded, wriggling her shoulders a little at his fierce grip. It slackened very slightly.

Lead formed in his gut. Then—had she thought he would simply kick her out with nothing? To starve? And she had gone ahead anyway?

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against the urge to shake her. First he had to protect her. Even from herself. Then he tightened his grip on her again and spoke urgently. ‘Listen to me, Verity. Under no circumstances will I divorce you. And I will have your word that you will
never
try to free yourself, or me, in this way again.’

‘But—’

‘Your word!’

‘I won’t share your bed!’ she flung at him. ‘If you want that, buy another woman!’

Pain streaked through him. ‘So be it,’ he ground out. ‘Your word, Verity.’

‘Very well. You have my word.’

He let out a shaky breath. She was safe. He could trust her word.

To Verity’s shock he insisted on coming upstairs with her. Her headache had returned tenfold and she could only be grateful for the strong hand under her elbow. The steps kept on shifting oddly. She stumbled and found herself swept up into his arms. Through the pain she protested. ‘No! I said I wouldn’t—’

He cut her off. ‘Verity, I have no intention of dragging an unwilling woman to my bed. Let me help you. Please.’

She didn’t understand how he managed to open her door without setting her down or dropping her, but he did it. He carried her to the bed and placed her on it. Dizzy, she sat with her face buried in her hands, listening to him move around the room. There came a slight rattle as he drew the bed hangings. She looked up to see that he had closed them on three sides and he was coming towards her, one of her night-gowns over his arm.

‘Can you change or should I ring for your maid?’ he asked, laying the night-gown beside her.

‘I can manage, if…if you would unhook my gown.’

There was nothing he wanted more. Without a word he slid his arms around her, reaching for the back of her gown. For an instant he felt her stiffen. He stilled, waiting. And felt her soften, her brow resting on his shoulder, her body relaxed. After her innocence, it was the most precious gift he had ever been given. He didn’t deserve this either.

First he undid the soft pink sash and then applied his shaking fingers to the hooks, battling the urge to trace the shadowy hollow of her spine beneath the chemise, lean forward and close his teeth lightly on the sensitive curve of neck and shoulder.

The dress hung open, his hands rested lightly on her shoulders. ‘All done,’ he said.

She remained in his arms. And his heart clenched. Grimly he reminded himself that she wasn’t well, that he must not abuse her trust. He sat back, releasing her. ‘I’ve left a lamp on your dressing table, out of sight,’ he said gently. ‘Does the light bother you?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Change while I’m gone. I need to fetch something for you.’ He bent and dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘I won’t be long.’

To his immense surprise, upon entering his brother’s bedchamber he found Richard taking off his coat.

Richard looked up with a grin. ‘Hullo. Looking for something? I left early. Braybrook fled too. Never seen Almeria in such a tweak.’

‘Ricky, have you got any laudanum?’

Richard’s fingers stilled on his cravat. ‘Laudanum? For Verity?’ His mouth tightened. ‘That might not be such a good idea for her. Is her headache very bad?’