Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] (17 page)

"You sound eager to go," Leslie said as she noticed the extra sparkle in the blue eyes.

"That I am!"

"From the look on your face I'd wager a shilling there's someone special in Vienna."

"I'd tell you about it, young Leslie, if you wouldn't find it a bore." Fitz's boyish eagerness was barely suppressed. "Her name is Rosalind."

"Are you betrothed?" Leslie asked already caught up in the romantic story.

"Unfortunately, no. Her father's been cutting up rough over the whole idea. Rosalind's just eighteen and Sir William is overprotective. She is his only child and he feels she is still too young to marry. He was positively thrilled when I announced I was returning to England," Fitz said, his face comical in his displeasure.

"And Rosalind?"

"Actually it was her idea. She thought the old boy might decide she was serious if she remained constant to my memory. At least that's the plan." Fitz stared down unhappily at his folded hands. "Frankly it's a proper bore being in London. I'm neither engaged nor a heart-free bachelor, so time hangs heavily."

All the romance that Leslie yearned for in her own life made her sensitive to her new friend's predicament. She knew what it was to love without reservation and was immeasurably pleased that Fitz would confide in her about his Rosalind. Her own enforced marriage and Pax's anger and disapproval made her especially aware of Fitz's loneliness. She also was separated from the man she loved, not by distance but by her own foolish actions. Befriending Fitz might be some solace to her for her own rejection.

"Then I shall just have to entertain you. You can show me all the sights of London. Aunt Nell and Pax have held me captive until my new wardrobe could be completed. Except for carriage rides and trips to the modiste, this is the first time I've been anywhere since we arrived." Leslie's voice held a wistful note as she thought of all the places she wanted to visit.

"A capital idea, Leslie," Fitz said, clasping her hand warmly. "Does your Grace plan to rejoin the party?" Pax's deep voice broke into the conversation.

Startled, Leslie looked up into dark stormy eyes. Unsure of Pax's reasons for anger, she blushed in confusion. Before she could stammer a reply, her companion leaped to his feet.

"Pax! Devil take it, man, but it's good to see you!"

Delight washed away Pax's frown as he heartily pumped the Captain's hand. Fitz, blond and blue-eyed, appeared almost angelic next to Pax's devilish dark looks. Leslie guessed that Fitz was some ten years younger than her husband. Yet Pax seemed far older with his guarded features against the open expression written so clearly on his friend's face. Leslie stood quietly, totally ignored as the two men traded compliments, insults and reminiscences. Finally remembering their manners, they turned to her.

As Pax's dark eyes locked with Leslie's, her heart lurched with despair at the change in his expression. There was a blankness within his gaze that had not been there when he spoke to Fitz. Once more she was reminded of his rejection.

"Aunt Nell was concerned that you had been kidnapped." Pax voice was cool.

"I'm sorry," Leslie began, but Fitz interrupted before she could finish.

"It's my fault entirely, Pax. I knew Leslie's father in India and I was so eager to talk to someone who wouldn't giggle and simper that I got carried away. Please extend my apologies to Lady Titwiliver."

"As to that, old friend, you can do it yourself. It'll serve you right if she talks your ear off." Pax bowed to Fitz as he took Leslie's elbow in a firm grasp. "The next dance is one I promised my wife."

As Leslie was led back to the ballroom she felt rather like a recalcitrant child being taken for punishment. At the beginning of the evening she would have been thrilled to dance with her husband, but now she suspected that it was strictly for appearances. Her heart sank at the sound of the waltz, and she could feel her body stiffen as Pax took her in his arms.

"Relax, child, I'm not planning to beat you." Pax's voice was sharp with annoyance.

"I'm not a child!" Leslie spoke through gritted teeth as she tried to follow his steps. "Don't be so bloody condescending."

"Your Grace! Such language!"

At the sound of amusement in his voice, Leslie looked cautiously up into Pax's face. His features were no longer set in a frown of disapproval. As the music swelled around her, she felt the tension ease from her body. She was surprised that Pax was such a wonderful dancer. When he taught her to dance, he had been wooden in his movements. But now they moved together as though the waltz had been designed for them.

Pax's hand at Leslie's waist sent a tremor of sweet pain along her nerve endings. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of him, spiraling waves of sensation that muddled her thoughts. She was reminded of the night in the gazebo, once again feeling helpless in his arms. He held her the proper twelve inches away but to Leslie it was as though they were pressed together, soft bosom against hard chest, willowy leg against muscular thigh. It was agony to be this close to him and not be able to reach out and stroke his face and neck as she wanted. She felt drugged by the contact and swayed to the magic of the music, floating without thought in his arms.

For the moment she could forget the month of arguing and awkwardness that had followed the wedding. She could forget that Pax thought of her as a child and had been unwilling to marry her. She could pretend she was a desirable woman, sought after by a bevy of admirers. Closing her eyes, she dreamed she was dancing with a man who loved her as Fitz loved his Rosalind.

"It appears that the
ton
has accepted the new Duchess."

Pax's voice, filled with a hint of censure, was like a slap across Leslie's face. She bent her head so that he wouldn't see the rush of tears to her eyes. For a short time, she had forgotten the reality of their situation and the result was only further hurt. She would not wish for love again.

"Thanks to Lady Jersey," Leslie responded caustically. "Now that we have accomplished that singular feat, may we leave?"

"If you like." Pax looked down in puzzlement at the girl in his arms. He had assumed that she was enjoying herself. She had done surprisingly well in a difficult situation. Except for her too lengthy discussion with Fitz, she had been all that was correct. She should be glowing with triumph but was wilting instead. He supposed the child was tired. As the music filtered away, he led her back to Lady Titwiliver.

"Well done, my dear," Nell praised the wan looking girl as they waited for the carriage. "It seems we have all scraped through with reputations intact. The old tabbies have decided to accept your marriage despite its unconventionality."

"Thank you so much for your support, Aunt Nell." Leslie found her eyes once more awash as she squeezed the older woman's hand.

"It's a good lesson, my girl. Society hates little niggling sins. The larger the offense, the more easily forgiven. I think the world appreciates naughtiness with a flair." Nell gave a deep throaty chuckle. "Incidentally that rascal, Fitz, was most taken with you. He wanted my permission to show you around London and I felt he would be a suitable escort since Pax is so deficient in that regard."

"Good morning, Leslie. You're looking in rare form today," Pax said smiling as he viewed his bleary-eyed wife.

"Morning," Leslie mumbled, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Since her come-out in society she had been sleeping late in the morning to compensate for the exceedingly long hours of the night. But every day found her feeling jaded from evenings spent in stuffy, perfume-laden rooms rather than the fresh outdoor air she was used to.

"I see you received my note. With your busy schedule I realized I better put in a request for an audience."

"Your note read more like a summons to court than a request," Leslie muttered huffily. She filled her plate from the sideboard, then waited while Mellows seated her and poured her hot chocolate before looking up at her husband.

How infernally annoying that he should look so well rested and handsome at such an early hour. He was dressed for riding in a navy jacket and fawn buckskins, stretched over muscles hardened from years in the saddle. His dark curling hair had been tamed for the moment but Leslie knew the wind would soon work it's magic, leaving it tousled and brushing his forehead the way she loved it.

"Well, husband? Your note said I should present myself for breakfast and here I am."

"I thought perhaps it was time for a ride. After a month of sampling the delights of society I thought you might be ready."

"Oh, Pax, how did you know?" Leslie's lingering
ennui
was banished at the promise of some exercise. "I've begun to feel like a veritable mole. I never get outside except on my way to someplace."

"I thought your admirers were keeping you well entertained?" Pax questioned, alerted to an underlying discontent by the wistful tone of her voice.

"The people I've met have been splendid, taking me to shops and the lending library. And of course, Fitz has been aces for taking me to see the sights. But everything is so restricted," Leslie wailed.

"Poor child," he soothed, remembering for once how different her life had become in such a short time. "Well, my dear, run and change and we'll be off."

In her eagerness, Leslie stuffed the last of the toast in her mouth and jumped up from her chair. She started for the door then swung back, her face a picture of dismay. "I've nothing to wear."

"As I recall the atrocious pile of bills from Madame Elise, she enumerated one velvet riding habit
ala militaire
," Pax drawled.

"Not that! Then I'll have to ride sidesaddle!" Leslie's chin was set in a mutinous grip.

"May I remind, your Grace, that from now on you will have to act as befits a Duchess." Pax's response was emphasized by the steely look in his eyes. "You will either ride in a ladylike manner or not at all."

There was silence as contrary emotions flitted across Leslie's all too expressive face. Anger, annoyance, sorrow and finally resignation all fought for control. Her shoulders sagged in defeat as she swung out the door. Pax chuckled at the scuff of dragging feet as his wife crossed the hall to the staircase. Perhaps his surprise might lighten the burden of femininity that weighted down the girl.

When Leslie stomped down the stairs, her face beneath the fetching russet hat with the jaunty peacock feather was still stormy. Pax bowed in approval of the charming picture she made in the black velvet habit. The jacket fit snuggly, emphasizing the delightful curves of her body. The russet military markings down the front of the coat and around the high collar, added a richness of color to her mass of chestnut curls. Her hair was loose, tied back simply with a black velvet ribbon. At her approach Mellows opened the double doors and she sailed through with a grinning Pax tagging after her. At the top of the steps she halted, staring at the horses being held at the curb.

The enormous black stallion belonging to Pax stood quietly beside a chestnut mare, his equal in lines and beauty. Leslie walked slowly down the stairs crooning softly as she neared the mare. Reaching up a gloved hand, she stroked the velvety nose. Her face was radiant as she turned to Pax.

"She's truly a beauty. Is she yours?" Her face fell as he shook his head.

Pax walked forward standing beside his wife, disconcerted at his own excitement. "Actually, my dear, she's yours."

"Oh, Pax, never say! My very own?" Leslie's eyes shone with happiness and impulsively she turned to Pax. She wanted desperately to hug him but caught herself at the last minute. Timidly she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve, looking earnestly up into his face. "It's the most wonderful present, Pax." She laughed in delight as he threw her up in the saddle, grumbling as she hooked her knee and arranged her skirts. "What's her name?"

"Athena. I bought her at Tattersall's yesterday. Rode her myself to see how well she did in the city. Good stamina but a dash skittish in heavy traffic." Pax swung up on Jupiter, smiling across at Leslie. "You can name her to suit yourself, of course."

"We'll see. For the moment, Athena is fine." She leaned along the chestnut's neck, stroking and crooning to the mare. "Oh, Pax. I've missed riding so much."

"Even if you have to ride sidesaddle?" he queried.

"Even then," she answered. "But it's all so unnatural. My spine is crooked and my knee feels numb."

"Enough, Leslie. One more addition to the list of your ailments and I shall believe you are too infirm for a ride. I'm off to the park." He touched his heels lightly to the black's sides.

Leslie followed closely as Pax wove his way through the city streets. After only a few minutes she could see that the new mare had been beautifully schooled. She had a gentle rhythmic gait and responded instantly to Leslie's commands. Her heart sang as they rode toward the park, happy to once more be on horseback. Inside the gates, Pax pulled up, waiting for Leslie to join him.

"She's a marvel, Pax. She moves like a princess." Leslie was ecstatic in her praise. "We should deal well together."

Pax's eyes warmed at the beautiful picture she made atop the chestnut. For the first time since their marriage they seemed in charity with each other. He didn't know why it was so important that nothing mar this special moment. He only knew that his chest swelled with pride at the plucky girl at his side and he wanted to keep the happy smile on her face.

At first they rode in silence. Each wanting to judge the horse's paces. As the morning wore on, Leslie felt more at home in the saddle. Soon they walked the horses side by side, giving accounts of how they had spent their time in London.

For Leslie the morning was magic. The Pax she loved was beside her, talking easily and companionably. She could almost forget the last two months, dreaming instead that he loved her and was happy to be with her. Then some word or phrase would dash her back to reality and she would remember that this was only temporary. When they left the park they would return to a hopeless relationship. Pax did not love her and probably never would.