Portrait of a Scandal (9 page)

Thomas regarded her with amusement but said nothing.

“Are you both attending Lady Elizabeth’s dinner party next eve?” Headline asked.

“I have not sent our reply as yet. We have received several invitations and to be honest, I have yet to open them,” Thomas said, with an apologetic glance in her direction. “I am sure we will see you at an event soon. No doubt, your mother will be holding several parties in the lead up to next season. My mother told me of her plan to have you married by the spring,” Thomas remarked with amusement.

Headline groaned. “Her intentions are sadly no secret. I am already bored with the young debutantes of last season,” he said, then seemed to remember Nellie’s presence and looked somewhat remorseful.

“Do not look so cast down, my Lord. You will not be reproached for speaking your mind in my presence, I assure you.”

He gave a nod in approval. “A pleasant discovery, my Lady. You were indeed smart in your choice of bride, Sterling.”

“I think so,” was all Thomas said.

“Farewell then, friends. I’d best go about my business and head home. I am sure my mother has forgotten to inform me of a tea she is hosting with several eligible young ladies. I must do my best to enrage her and pay them all little attention,” Headline said with a dip of his hat, before he rode off.

“A charming fellow,” Nellie commented.

“Charming in an understatement, though he is quite the charmer when he feels the desire,” her husband said.

“Why, is that disapproval in your tone?” she asked sweetly, amused by his sudden irritation.

“My dear, how can I not disapprove when my bride seems charmed by another?”

“You should be flattered, husband. I certainly am. It was, after all, you who made me realise my charms, even if some do not see them,” she said in a suggestive tone. “Come, I feel the need to see if this mare can achieve more than a trot.”

Nellie dug her heel into the horse at the same time the crop hit its flank.

Chapter Five

They had been gone several hours before returning to the townhouse. Nellie had certainly given the mare a workout in the end, and the horse had unwittingly returned the favour. Still, Nellie held no desire to ride the animal again. Thomas might have thought she had been joking when she’d said she would ride one of the carriage horses next time, but she had not.

“Feel free to return the horse to her Grace,” Nellie said to the groom as he assisted her to dismount. She felt Thomas’ amusement but he wisely did not comment as they walked back into the house. Nellie retreated to her chambers to change before luncheon.

* * * *

“Would you care to read through the invitations we received?” Thomas asked her, as they stood after their meal.

“Certainly,” she said, with somewhat forced cheer. Judging by Thomas’ raised eyebrow, her tone did not go unnoticed.

Nellie followed him into his study and took a seat across from his desk, glancing down at the large stack of letters he placed before her.

“All of these are invitations?”

“Yes. You seem surprised.”

“I am,” she said feeling oddly pleased at being addressed on the envelopes as the Marchioness of Sterling. Her new title had yet to sink in, but already she was known as the future duchess. “Father and I never received as many invitations as this and it is not even the season yet.”

“Well, you will one day become a duchess. For that reason alone, members of the
ton
wish us close.”

“That is such a sad reality,” she said with regret.

“But the truth.”

Nellie took a deep breath as she read each invitation. There were so many, and several clashed. “Who are your friends? Should we not attend them before any other?”

Thomas nodded and reached for the pile, then flicked through it. “A good point, though I must admit after seeing how well Headline took to you, I worry about my friends and their reputations. They may try to corrupt you, wife.”

“Why, husband, I think you do that well enough yourself.”

Thomas tilted his head with a grin and studied her. His eyes slowly shifted to her breasts and she felt the heat of his gaze glide along her flesh. Her own breathing deepened as his eyes grew hungry. She tightened her hands on the fine wood of the chair as tingles moved over her body, warming her core and suddenly heavy breasts. How could a man’s gaze alone do this to her?

 But Thomas shook his head as if dismissing her, or perhaps his own thoughts, and he looked back to the letters in his hand. Nellie’s chest tightened with shame at the sudden rejection. How could he want her one moment, and not the next? Surely it had been desire she had witnessed in his eyes?

“Lady Elizabeth’s dinner party tomorrow should be tolerable, and there are these friends of my mother’s we should also attend,” he said, handing her a smaller pile. “The others, though, are at your discretion.” He kept his eyes away from hers as he handed the last stack of parchment over.

Was his desire for her so simple to dismiss?

Nellie rose, a bitterness now coating her tongue. “I shall retire to the parlour and pen our replies, then,” she said. She turned her back on him and headed out of the room, thankful that Geoff stood outside the door. He held out a hand and directed her down the hall to a feminine sitting room, apparently having heard her words. The room was filled with gold-framed furniture and she walked towards the settee, which took her weight without the slightest groan of the fine wood as she settled into the soft, cream upholstery, staring down at the stack of letters in her hand.

“Would you like some tea, my Lady?”

Nellie looked up and offered a forced smile to the kind footman. “Indeed. That would be rather nice. Thank you.”

He bowed and departed, closing the door behind him.

Nellie looked around the room. A wide mirror was hanging over the white marble fireplace, and the only noise in the otherwise quiet room was the soft tick of the clock resting upon the mantel. Quiet to the ear, at least—yet Nellie’s mind ran wild with thoughts and questions. Was Thomas already tiring of her? Had the interest he had once expressed in her already departed? Would he seek out another woman to warm his bed? The weight of these thoughts brought her suddenly heavy lids down, causing the moisture which had formed in her eyes to spill forth over her cheeks.

She was only a day into her marriage and already it was over. But how could it be? She had felt so much promise in Thomas’ embrace. What a fool she had been. Despair filled her heart.

The tapping of hurried footsteps found her wiping her eyes a moment before the door opened. Anne rushed forward.

“Oh, my Lady, I have…” Her maid paused. “Are you well?”

Nellie waved her concern away. “Fine, Anne. What is the matter?”

Her maid stood there for a moment as if weighing her words before she looked down at the letter in her hand. “My Lady, my cousin just delivered this,” she said, handing it over.

Nellie did not have to look down at the hurried and messy writing to know who it was from. She sighed and reluctantly took the letter. Anne lingered, no doubt interested as to what it contained. Nellie, on the other hand, cared not for anything further to add to her troubled mind.

“Thank you, Anne. Can I have a moment?”

Her maid’s face fell slightly, but she offered a curtsy as she departed the room. Nellie craved solitude at that moment, and Anne knew her too well not to discover the despair resonating within her mistress.

Rising from her seat, Nellie moved through the room and came to the wide bay window overlooking the small rear courtyard. A lone fountain sat before the stone path in the centre of the garden. Finches dove in and out of the fine spray, bathing themselves in the rare sunshine. How carefree one’s life could be. As Nellie felt the parchment between her fingers, she knew her life was anything but.

* * * *

Blast his wife for being such a temptation!

Thomas had wanted to pull her over his desk, lift up her skirts and take her hard, her flushed skin glowing in the sunlight as it filtered through his study window. But he could not. She was tender from his brutality last night. Brutality was perhaps not the right word, though. His passion for her was stronger than anything he had felt before, but his hunger for her did not diminish after each encounter. No, he felt the need to bury himself in her again and again. Nellie had not seemed to mind, and by her flushed cheeks and heavy breathing a moment ago, she would have been quite willing for more of last night, but he would not cause her further harm. She needed to heal.

As his wife walked out of the room, he knew she was angry. Her lifted chin and sharp eyes told him so, if her tone had not already implied as much. Thomas almost called her back, but thought better of it. Instead, he pulled out some paper and proceeded to write several letters regarding a horse for her. He knew how much she cared for the beast back on her father’s estate, and while he agreed that the stallion would likely not suit London life, she still needed a mount. Thomas knew she did not want a lady’s hack like his mother’s, but a horse that would challenge her. A horse that could match her fire and soul. Indeed, he would have his work cut out for him.

* * * *

Later that evening, Thomas found it hard to hold his tongue when his wife offered nothing but short, clipped replies at his attempts to engage her in conversation throughout dinner. Not wishing to make a scene, he decided to postpone any confrontation until they were confined to the bedchamber. He held no doubt his wife would express her scorn to him then—her very being burned with it. Even the servants, whom she had seemed to get along with that morning, kept a wary distance from her now.

He allowed her time to prepare for bed, before he too returned to his chamber and disrobed. The sounds from the bathroom that connected his room to Nellie’s faded. He listened to the faint chatter of conversation between his wife and her maid for a few moments, until all went silent.

Thomas walked through the bath chamber and into her room, not bothering to knock. She glared at him from where she was sitting at her writing desk but said nothing, instead returning to her letter.

“To whom do you write, my dear?” he asked sweetly.

After a long pause, she offered, “My father.”

“Anything of interest?” Thomas had been surprised the man had not visited them today. Nellie and her father were quite close and Thomas assumed it had taken a great deal of the man’s will not to visit his daughter on their first day apart. “Perhaps we could visit him tomorrow? I am sure he will be eager to see you.”

She paused, the quill hovering over the paper before she turned to him. “I was informing him I would attempt a visit in the morning.”

“I am sure we will have time. Lady Elizabeth’s dinner party is not until later in the eve.”

She said nothing, but narrowed her eyes at him further until she returned to her letter. Nellie was not one to hold her tongue, but she was doing so now. He found it odd and challenging. He wanted her to bite. He missed her fire. Where were her sugar-coated insults?

“Perhaps we could visit a dressmaker while we venture out tomorrow. I assure you my input will be minimal, but I believe I will enjoy watching you dress and undress for several hours.”

“Are you unhappy with my current wardrobe, my Lord?”

Thomas resisted the urge to grin. Although she was not facing him, he could imagine her jaw clenched as her eyes darkened, not with lust but in anger. Her tone of voice certainly implied as much.

“Hardly. Yet while I prefer you in nothing at all, I understand we will be attending a great many functions and I am told a lady does not like to be seen in the same dress too often.”

She turned to glare at him then. “Why, my Lord—whom do you hold so close in your confidence to inform you of the inner workings of a lady’s mind?”

Thomas did not like the insinuation and worked to control his anger. Her tone was sharp and her eyes were just as dangerous. They had agreed not to speak of the past, but he felt she was straddling that line now. “My mother,” he said, and took a calming breath. He had asked for her temper, had he not? “But perhaps if you do not want my opinion, my mother would be more than happy to take you to her dressmaker. I am sure she would relish the time with her new daughter.”

Nellie did not say anything but he saw her eyes soften slightly. His mother had taken an instant liking to her, as his father had in turn. He also knew she had lost her own mother recently, and the idea of gaining his could only be positive. Still, Thomas did not welcome her cold regard for him now.

He moved towards the bed, taking off his robe and tossing it on the end. As he slid between the sheets, naked, he felt her eyes on him.

“Is there something wrong with your own bed, my Lord?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied and settled back amongst the pillows, resting his hands above his head.

“Then why are you in my bed and not your own?”

“As I told you last night, I wish to sleep with my wife at every opportunity.”

She watched him with sharp eyes again. “Really? You did not take an opportunity today while we were in the library. Is it only behind closed doors you feel something for me, if anything?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Nel, for such a smart woman, I wonder where you get some of your ideas. I desire you no matter where we are. When we were in my study today, I could think of nothing better than taking you, uncaring if the footmen outside the door heard you scream, but I will not cause you pain. If I could have taken you then, I would have.”

Her eyes widened as she lowered her chin. Her expression became thoughtful. “Then why did you not say as much?”

“You wish me to express my every thought and desire?” he asked, amused.

“No, not every one, but we do not know each other, Thomas. If you had told me as much, I would not have spent the day cursing my stupidity in marrying such a man!”