The Bartered Bride (28 page)

"I chose them to go with your eyes, though no sapphire has quite that hint of green." He moved behind her to fasten the necklace, then rested his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders. "The rosebuds in your hair are exquisite, and so are you." He pressed his lips to her throat above the sparkling gemstones.

She shivered, and it was not from repulsion. "You have the gift of making a woman feel beautiful, Gavin."

"I only speak truth." He took her arm. "Now let's dazzle the girls before the hard part of the evening begins."

They climbed to the floor above, where the cousins were feasting on a selection of the same delicacies that would be served at the supper later. The girls abandoned their lobster patties and cheese tarts to admire their visitors. "You look like a fairy princess, Mama!" Katie exclaimed. Alex laughed. "I'm glad you think so, but in ten years you'll outshine me."

"Never!" Anne Kenyon, Alex's young half-sister, said, "Since you're blond, you'll be even more fairy-like, Katie. Rather like Aunt Rosalind."

"But Mama was an actress, which is far more interesting than being a fairy princess," Lady Maria said firmly.

The girls began a spirited discussion on the relative merits of fairies, princesses, and actresses, so Alex kissed her daughter and they went down to the ball. Just before they stepped out into public, Alex stopped, rigid, as if again contemplating flight.

Gavin murmured, "Into the breach, my dear."

"Soldiers who are first to cross a breached wall invariably die." He wished she hadn't taken him so literally. "I think you fear how you've changed more than you fear the other guests. Tonight will not be as bad as you think."

She moistened her lips with her tongue. "The colonel once told me that the events one most wants to avoid are never so bad as expected."

"Can he and I both be wrong? " he asked.

"Let's hope not." Head high, she entered the arena.

Luckily a reception line offered little opportunity to exchange more than bland pleasantries. People eyed Gavin with curiosity, occasionally making sympathetic comments about the loss of his grandfather. Some were interested in his politics, and one old viscount asked outright whether he was Tory or Whig. Gavin dodged the question, since an honest answer about his beliefs would send the fellow into an apoplexy.

Philip Elliott arrived early. Gavin said, "I'm glad you came tonight." The younger man arched his brows. "One mustn't let the jackals see the blood." The delicate irony suggested that Philip was past shock and into recovery. He'd survive. But it was a pity he hadn't been packed off into the navy or another useful profession when he was younger. He'd be a better man for some honest labor-which Gavin recognized as a very American thought. In Britain, being a gentleman was considered fulltime employment.

Beside him, Alex had to deal with greetings from people who knew her family well, and many who had known her when she was a girl. She had buried all traces of her earlier anxieties and was the epitome of charm and graciousness. Her mother's daughter, and far more of a countess than he was an earl. Gavin's most pleasant surprise was a rangy man of middle years with a satiric gleam in the eyes. "I'm Markland," he said with a faint American accent. "Welcome to the House of Lords-we need more radical colonials sitting there."

Gavin shook the man's hand. "How do you know that I'm a radical colonial?" Markland chuckled. "My wife is twin sister to the wife of one of your father-in-law's cronies. At the highest levels, London is as small a town as Boston. You may have heard of me there under my real name, Jason Travers."

"Of course!" Gavin exclaimed. "You and I are in the same business. You're something of a legend in Boston shipping circles-the Yankee Earl."

"You may have that nickname with my blessing. I run my company from Liverpool and send my sons to Harvard College so they'll be corrupted by radical American ideas." Markland turned serious. "The reform movement is making progress here: Catholic Emancipation, ending the worst voting abuses, laws to keep children from being worked to death in factories. You'll be with us on such issues, I think?"

"Of course. Who could not be?"

"You'd be surprised how many men can't see past their own selfish noses. But step by step, democracy and compassion are making headway even here."

Gavin smiled. "You're actually making me look forward to the House of Lords. Perhaps I can contribute something useful there."

"You can. You will. And if you ever feel the need to talk with another American who's had his conflicts with the British establishment, feel free to call on me. You can curse about your dealings with the East India Company, and I'll tell you about my time on the prison hulks in the Thames." Moving on to Alex, Markland said, "And why haven't you visited Kira and me yet, you wicked child?"

"Uncle Jason!" Alex went into the man's arms for an enthusiastic hug. "How wonderful to see you. Where is Aunt Kira?"

"A bit under the weather so she stayed home, but she gave me strict orders to invite you to a ladies'

tea next week."

Gavin smiled wryly at still more proof that Alex was connected to most of the nobility of Britain by blood or long family friendships. At least two former suitors came by and greeted her warmly before introducing their wives. It was all very friendly-anticipation had been worse than reality. The receiving line was nearing its end when Gavin turned to the next guest, and found himself face to face with Sir Barton Pierce. Tall and broad, Pierce had flourished in London, putting on weight along with self-importance. Holding out his hand, he said unctuously, "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Seabourne. I've been wanting to speak with you ..." Then he froze as he recognized who he was greeting. Gavin shook the other man's hand with exaggerated politeness. "Glad you made it tonight, Pierce. Or do you prefer to be called Sir Barton?"

"How the devil did you get to be the Earl of Seabourne?" Pierce sputtered, shock and anger in his pale eyes.

"The usual way-the previous earl, my grandfather, died." Gavin was enjoying himself. "There was some doubt about my existence, but that's all sorted out now."

Recovering, Pierce said, "Now that you're a lord, you shouldn't be soiling your hands with trade. I'd be happy to buy Elliott House for a fair price."

Gavin laughed. "It's not for sale. There's another Yankee earl who has kept his shipping business, and I see no reason why I can't do the same." He turned to the woman at the other man's side. "Would this be Lady Pierce? I heard that you found yourself a beautiful wife in your travels, but rumor did her less than justice."

In this, he was honest. Lady Pierce was a petite, exquisitely lovely blond with a face and figure of classical perfection. She extended her hand with a practiced smile. "You are too kind. I gather that you are the reason we were invited to Ashburton House? I've always wished to meet the duke and duchess." So she could fawn on them, no doubt. Under the lady's angelic exterior, Gavin sensed the avidness of large appetites. She and Barton Pierce shared ambition and greed, and had made one of the most ancient of marriage bargains-beauty for wealth.

As Gavin bowed over her hand, Alex said coolly, "Frederica, what a surprise." Lady Pierce stiffened, as shocked as her husband had been when he identified Gavin. "Alexandra! A surprise indeed."

The two women exchanged patently false smiles. Gavin remembered Alex mentioning a wasp-tongued beauty named Frederica, and this had to be the woman.

"We are old acquaintances from Sydney, but haven't seen each other since Barton swept me off my feet and brought me back to England." Frederica Pierce's gaze slanted to Gavin. "How well you've done for yourself, my dear." Her voice managed to imply that it was a miracle that any man had wanted to marry Alex.

"Frederica was the most acclaimed beauty in New South Wales," Alex explained to Gavin. "There was mass mourning when she married and left Sydney. I'd forgotten the name of your new husband. Much has happened since then."

Frederica Pierce's expression changed. "So I had heard. One of Barton's captains is recently arrived in London with the most remarkable tale. Were you really enslaved in the Indies and sold into the harem of a Borneo sultan for your weight in gold, my dear? "

Alex turned white. Gavin covered her shocked silence with a laugh. "Traveler's tales are always so much more dramatic than the truth. Perhaps you should let that story stand since it's so splendidly romantic." He placed a possessive hand at the small of Alex's back. "We've enjoyed meeting old friends again, but since our duties are done here, I'd like to claim a waltz with my wife. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Pierce." He bowed before leading Alex away.

The music had already begun, so Gavin swung Alex into waltz position as soon as they reached the dance floor. "I thought it best to get you away before murder was done." Alex drew a shaky breath. "Of all the people in London to find out what happened to me! Frederica is a terrible woman. Though it's true that men mourned when she married and left the colony, the women heaved vast sighs of relief. She's the coldest, most selfish person I've ever known, and will cheerfully ruin me for spite."

"Her husband has connections to the East, but they're not very accurate. She doesn't know what really happened, and she won't."

"What if someone from the crew of the Helena got drunk in a dockside tavern and told the whole story?" Alex's face was starkly pale against her dark hair.

"Even if that happened, no one except Suryo and I know everything, and we aren't talking." His voice softened. "If the truth came out, would it matter? Frederica Pierce has no power to injure you. You have powerful, loyal friends and family-she is a spiteful nobody by comparison."

"And since I can't do anything about her, I might as well not worry." Alex forced herself to relax.

"Since women always hate her, I suppose they won't take her tales seriously. Men tend to swallow everything she says, though."

"Not all men-believe me, any male with good sense will keep his distance. She has the lethal charm of a black widow spider." He grinned. "One must be glad that such perfect partners have found each other." Alex's expression eased into a smile. "You have no need to administer further justice to Pierce. Frederica is punishment enough."

Not true, but at least Gavin wouldn't worry about harming innocent members of Pierce's family There was nothing innocent about the lovely Frederica.

By the time they finished their waltz, Alex was in command of herself again, so they went their separate ways to mingle with other guests. Gavin was enjoying a country dance with his mother-in-law when he noticed that Pierce was talking with Philip, and there was a tension to the exchange that set off warning bells.

When the dance ended, he escorted Catherine back to Lord Michael. Even after almost twenty years, they still kept every second set for each other, which Gavin found endearingly romantic. Would he and Alex be like that in twenty years, or would they fail to create a deeper bond and slide into lonely isolation?

Not wanting to pursue that line of thinking, he concentrated on working his way across the crowded ballroom. By the time he reached his cousin, Pierce had moved on and Philip was staring at the dancers with a frown on his face. "I see you and Barton Pierce are acquainted," Gavin said casually. "He was startled to see me here, since we knew each other in the East."

"You have my sympathies," Philip said tartly. "If ever I've met an encroaching mushroom, it's him. Now that I'm not an earl, he's become damned rude. He probably oozed good nature to you."

"Hardly. We wew never friends." An understatement. "Do you have business dealings with him? If so, I hope you held closely to your purse."

"Not closely enough." Philip hesitated. "I suppose I should mention this since in a way, you're affected. I promised to recommend him for the Seabourne seat in Parliament, and the district is old-fashioned enough that the earl's endorsement is a guarantee of election. He's most unhappy that I can no longer deliver what I promised."

And Pierce knew damned well that the new earl would not follow through on such an agreement. Reading between the lines, Gavin said, "Did he express his gratitude in advance with gifts or loans, and now he demands repayment? "

"And if he did?" Philip was angry and defensive. "He's well qualified to be a Member of Parliament. I saw nothing wrong in endorsing him."

Gavin clamped down on his temper. "He presents himself well, but he's unscrupulous. Not a man I would choose to help run the country. If you owe him money, I'll lend you enough to repay him on better terms than whatever he offered you."

Philip's anger flared. "By what right do you tell me how to manage my affairs? You may be the head of the Elliott family, but you have no authority over me."

Realizing he was handling this badly, Gavin said, "I beg your pardon. Of course I have no authority over you. What I meant to convey is that Pierce can be difficult. If you need any assistance ..."

"Very kind of you, cousin, but I have no need of your help, now or ever. By your leave." Philip stalked off like an angry cat.

Uneasily Gavin watched him go, and hoped he hadn't just created an alliance between two men who hated him.

Cooling herself with a Chinese ivory fan, Troth remarked, "You look much happier now than when the ball began."

Alex smiled. "I was afraid I'd changed beyond redemption, and everyone would know it in a glance. But while I'm a very different person from the girl who left London, everyone has been so kind that it's hard to remember why I was anxious."

"Perhaps you worry too much what people think. I found freedom when I followed my husband's advice and stopped caring about the opinions of others. Since I will never be properly English, I can either cower and hope not to offend, or scorn ill-wishers as narrow-minded peasants." Troth laughed.

"So I do the latter, and find that Kyle was right. I'm now considered a great beauty and a great hostess, and all because I don't care. It's the most delicious of ironies."

"I've always thought of myself as independent and a bit of a rebel, but perhaps you're right," Alex said slowly. "I do worry about what others think."