The Deception (28 page)

“I don’t know,” Caroline said in a very small voice. “I never thought about those things.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were sixteen years old. But Charlwood was twenty-one—a year older than Harry is now. And even Harry would not try anything so harebrained as eloping with a girl when he had no money!”

There was silence as she thought about this.

I said with conviction, “Uncle Martin may not have been dealt the best hand in life, but he has not played well with the cards he was given.”

“Everything you say is true, Kate. I can see that.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I still can’t feel sorry for him.”

I swung my shoeless feet up on the chaise longue, rested my head against the cushion, folded my hands on my chest, stared at the ceiling, and thought that Caroline’s heart was kinder than mine.

Chapter Twenty

I was so exhausted that night that I fell deeply asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow, and I didn’t awaken until late the following morning. I saw from the rumpled pillow next to me that Adrian had been to bed also, but I had been sleeping so deeply that I hadn’t heard him come in or get up. I rolled into the big depression in the feather mattress that his body had left, curled up, and felt miserable. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since the night he had brought me home from the gambling hell.

If only I didn’t love him so much.

Impossible to keep the thought from running again and again through my mind. If only I didn’t care, and we could have the kind of polite, discreet, undemanding marriage that I saw so many other aristocratic couples had. If only I could laugh at our misunderstandings and go blithely on my way, unencumbered by this painful baggage of passionate love.

I rubbed my temples, which ached as if I had drunk too much wine. It wasn’t wine that was making me feel so wretched, however, it was depression. I shut my eyes and wondered if I would ever be truly happy again.

I was so depressed that I didn’t even want to get up, and I asked Jeanette to bring a cup of tea to the bedroom for me. Most fashionable ladies had their breakfast in their rooms, but I had always thought this custom terribly degenerate. This morning, however, I just couldn’t stomach the smells of the grilled kidneys and bacon that Harry and Adrian fancied in the morning.

The day crept by. I got Harry to accompany me to the park so I could exercise Elsa. Adrian and I hadn’t had the horses out in four days, and she needed the exercise. The fresh air made me feel better too. I spent the afternoon playing cricket with Ned in the garden, and his childish good spirits helped to cheer me up.

We were engaged to go to a ball that evening at the Castlereaghs’, and I knew that this was one party that Adrian would not excuse himself from attending. He might be deeply unhappy with the government, but he had real respect for Lord Castlereagh. Added to that was the fact that Lord Castlereagh’s wife was one of the patronesses of Almack’s, and to shun her ball would be a catastrophic mistake.

I paid a great deal more attention to my appearance that evening than I usually did. “I look so pale,” I complained to Jeanette as I stared at myself in the dressing-table mirror. I leaned forward and pinched my cheeks. This was a great improvement. Now I looked as if I had just broken out in two giant measles.

“If you like, my lady, I will poot a leetle rouge on your cheeks,” Jeanette said. “It is true that you are vairy pale.”

“I’m indoors too much,” I said crossly. “I look like a death’s-head.” I waved my hand. “Go ahead, Jeanette, and paint me up.”

She took out a rabbit’s foot, dipped it into a pot that she whisked out of one of the dressing-table drawers, and began to brush some colored powder onto my cheeks. “You are really wonderful, Jeanette,” I said with admiration when she had finished. “I look so natural and healthy. One would never know that it was paint.”

Jeanette didn’t smile—she never smiled—but she looked pleased.

The door from the corridor opened and Adrian looked in.

“The rest of us are ready, Kate,” he said. “Shall I send to have the carriage brought around?”

“Yes. I will be downstairs in a moment, my lord. You can send for the carriage.”

He closed the door, and we listened to the sound of his footsteps as he ran lightly down the stairs. Now that the god had gone, the pretty sparkle died out of Jeanette’s eyes, and she went to the wardrobe to get out my blue velvet evening cloak. I stood up, she put it around my shoulders, and I was ready to go.

Caroline and I were both silent during the drive, pretending to listen as the two men talked about some bill or other that was due to come up in front of the Lords that week. I sat next to Adrian and felt an ache in my heart so fierce that I wanted to cry. I was so close to him that when we rounded a turn my body actually touched his, but never had I felt so strongly that we were separated by a chasm I could not bridge.

We did not have to wait for very long to get into the Castlereaghs’ house. Other hostesses measured their ball’s success by the number of people who attended, but Lady Castlereagh was so arrogant and so powerful that she only invited the social crème de la crème to attend her own functions. And the chosen few always came.

We alighted. We relinquished our cloaks. We were greeted by the Castlereaghs. We were announced by the majordomo. We entered the ballroom.

The first person I saw was my uncle.

Adrian felt me falter, and his hand tightened under my elbow. He bent his head close to mine and murmured, “Are you all right, Kate?”

“Yes,” I said. “I just did not expect to see Charlwood here.”

“Bachelors with a title, an unencumbered estate, and a good income are invited everywhere,” Adrian said dryly. “Even to the Castlereaghs’.”

His hand was warm on my elbow, his head was still bent close to mine. I hadn’t been this near him in days. I looked up at him and found that his eyes were on his sister.

“Caroline met him yesterday, at the Silchester garden party,” I said a little flatly. “She’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.” There was a worried line between his brows. I felt a stab of jealousy, and was ashamed of myself.

A voice said, “Greystone, you dog, surely you don’t plan to monopolize your beautiful wife for the entire evening?”

We both looked around. It was Mr. Bonds, the busybody who had told Adrian about my appointment with Chalmers. I gave him a cold stare. He and Adrian exchanged a look over my head. I hated it when people did that.

“I’m sure that Kate will be happy to give you this dance, Jack,” Adrian said.

I didn’t want to dance with the perfidious Bonds, but I could hardly say this to one of my husband’s oldest friends. “Of course, Mr. Bonds,” I said in my chilliest voice. I would dance with him, but I didn’t have to be nice to him.

Unfortunately, it was a waltz, so I had to talk to him. He started off by saying immediately, “I can perfectly understand that you are out of temper with me, Lady Greystone, but I was extremely worried when I saw you get into that cab with Chalmers. He has a very nasty reputation.”

“That is quite all right, Mr. Bonds,” I said frostily.

He looked sad. “You
are
out of temper with me.”

I stared at his chin, which had a dimple right in the middle of it, and did not reply. We swept around the corner of the dance floor and began to waltz down the long side.

“Is there anything I can do to make amends?” he asked plaintively.

“You can keep your nose out of my affairs in the future,” I said hotly.

“All right.” His voice was meek. I glared up at him. There was a distinct twinkle in his hazel eyes. It reminded me that I had quite liked him before his nasty betrayal, “If I promise not to peach on you again, will you cry friends?”

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” I said furiously. “Everything would have concluded perfectly smoothly if you had not gone running off to Adrian. Harry got his IOUs back and was at that disgusting hell not ten minutes after Adrian and I had left.”

“The next time I will realize that you have matters under control,” he said. “But I did not know what a formidable lady you are, and I panicked.”

I sniffed.

“Most women would not have had the bottom to carry out so clever a scheme,” he said.

“Well ... I suppose I will forgive you this time,” I said.

“I will be very grateful if you do.”

I smiled at him. He really did have very nice eyes.

“Friends?” he asked.

“Friends,” I agreed.

* * * *

Stade was not at the ball, but Lady Mary Weston was there as well as Charlwood. The presence of two out of my three nemeses was more than enough to keep me occupied, and I worked hard trying to keep track of the whereabouts of both my uncle and Lady Mary while at the same time endeavoring to be civil to my own partners.

Fortunately, Adrian disappeared for a large gap of time during the middle of the ball, so he was not available for Lady Mary to get her claws into. I watched the door like a hawk, and as soon as he and Lord Castlereagh appeared on the edge of the dance floor, I snared Adrian. Lady Castlereagh was doing the same to her husband, and from the look on her face I gathered that she was not pleased that he had done a disappearing act for most of his own ball.

Adrian lifted his eyebrows. “I fear I am in Lady Castlereagh’s black books,” he said. “Are you angry with me too, Kate?”

I could hardly say that I was much happier that he had spent his time with Lord Castlereagh than with Lady Mary, so I just smiled and said, “I will forgive you if you’ll dance this waltz with me.”

“With pleasure,” he replied, and led me to the floor.

It was heaven to be in his arms once more, and I floated as if on a cloud until I was assailed by the treacherous dizziness that I had been experiencing at odd moments of late. He noticed how my hand tightened on his shoulder, looked down at me, and asked if I was all right.

“It’s warm in here and I feel a little dizzy,” I confessed.

“You’re pale.” We were by the French doors that led out to the terrace, and he asked, “Would you like to get a little air?”

I nodded gratefully, and he put his arm around my shoulders, grasped my elbow, and steered me to the door and out into the blessedly cool night air. I inhaled deeply.

“Better?” he asked after a minute.

“Yes,” I said. His arm was still around my shoulders, and I turned and leaned into him so that the full length of my body lay against his. I put my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest. His heart beat steadily under my cheek, and I knew the exact second when it began to accelerate.

Thank God.

The relief I felt was so intense that my knees actually buckled with it. At least there was one way I could still reach him. I tilted my head back so that I could look up at him. His face wore the hard, unmistakable stamp of desire.

“Don’t be angry with me, Adrian,” I whispered. “I am so unhappy when you are angry with me.”

“Sometimes, Kate,” he said through his teeth, “I would like to kill you.” And then he bent his head to mine.

His hands were pressed hard against my spine, holding me to him; his thumbs caressed the underside of my breasts. I was pressed so close to him that I could feel every line of his body, as he could feel mine. His mouth was hard, demanding, erotic, and I opened to him. We stood there on the Castlereaghs’ terrace, not ten feet from the dancing couples in the ballroom, and kissed like lovers who were but a step away from tumbling into bed.

He lifted his head. “My God, Kate,” he said. His voice was raw. “Let’s go home.”

My body ached for him. I nodded, and then, over his shoulder, I saw the man who was standing just outside the French doors, staring at us. The ballroom light shone through the glass panes, affording me a clear look at his face. It was white and shrunken-looking, and the eyes blazed in a way that was utterly terrifying.

Charlwood.

“What is it?” Adrian asked, and he put me aside so that he could swing around himself to see what I was looking at. But all he saw was my uncle’s back as he retreated into the ballroom.

“It was Charlwood.” I managed a reasonably normal tone of voice. “He caught us kissing.”

Adrian made an impatient gesture and urged me toward the French doors. At the moment, Charlwood was not what was on his mind. But all the time that he was telling Caroline that I was not feeling well and he was taking me home and would send the carriage back for her and Edward, I kept seeing Charlwood’s face as it had looked when he came upon me and Adrian.

The marriage he had forced upon Adrian had not turned out as Charlwood had envisioned. I was not a social pariah. If anything, I had turned out to be an asset to Adrian. I liked people, and in turn they tended to like me. The way was clear for Adrian to embark upon a great political career, if that was what he wished. And now Charlwood had come upon evidence that Adrian was not even personally unhappy in his marriage; that there was passion between him and his unwanted wife.

I wished very much that Charlwood had not seen us on the terrace. I had a foreboding that the scene he had witnessed just might be enough to push him into doing something that would not be to the benefit of any of us.

* * * *

The ride home was mostly silent, but it was not the silence of discord. On the contrary, Adrian and I were cuddled next to each other in the corner of the carriage and he had his right arm around me, pressing me closely to his side. The dizziness that I felt had nothing to do with the air temperature and everything to do with the internal heat of desire that was steadily mounting inside my body.

It seemed an endless amount of time that we were enclosed together in the privacy of the dark carriage. As the horses trotted through the nighttime city streets, Adrian held me with his right hand, while his left slipped inside my velvet cloak and caressed my breasts. His fingers slid beneath the ivory silk of my bodice and rubbed gently back and forth across first one nipple and then the other. I could hear how ragged my own breathing sounded in the dark, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward to meet his touch.