The Hourglass (18 page)

“Do not rush,” Ardeth warned. “The horses can be skittish in the dark.”

So could his wife, Ardeth knew. He made sure she was comfortable on the seat across from him, then asked, “Were you pleased with the evening, other than the meeting with your sister? I know you were dreading it, but the party was not all bad, was it?”

“It ended better than it started, of course, but I found the
ton
’s approbation nearly as intimidating as their disdain. Some of the women seemed genuinely kind, not merely swayed by public opinion or spirit-laced punch.”

“But you won even the curmudgeons over.”

“Again, time will tell. Yesterday I was a wanton. Tonight I am a wonder. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

He glanced around, as if to see a light. “Who, indeed?”

“I do not suppose it matters in the end.”

“Nothing matters right now but your own opinion of your worth, your own peace of mind.”

“Then it does not matter to you if I use the wrong fork at Lady Blessingame’s Venetian breakfast or forget which lady goes in first at the Hamiltons’ dinner?”

He laughed. “You are asking me about forks when I never used one until—that is, you could ride naked through Hyde Park and it would not make a ha’penny’s difference to me.”

“Oh. I see.”

He could not see her face by the dim light of the carriage lamps, but he knew she stiffened in her seat. “I am sorry. I did not mean to imply that I do not care. In fact, I would not like another man seeing my wife’s bare body. I am trying to be generous, but I do have limits.”

“Like one of your possessions,” she said.

Ardeth heard the chill in her voice and almost shivered, just when he’d been getting used to the London weather. “Anyone may look at my collections. A wife is another matter altogether. What I meant, and should have said, was that I would be proud of you, pleased that we are wed, if you smote Prinny himself to reclaim your hand or knocked a duchess down on your way to the dining room.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I know you went tonight for me, but you showed your true mettle. No foolish conventions could matter more than that.”

“And I succeeded, didn’t I?” She relaxed back against the leather cushions. “With your help, of course, and Lady Vinross and her son’s, and that of the Germanic contingent and the prince himself.”

“You did indeed. They all complimented me on what an excellent match I had made. I agreed.”

“Thank you. I must admit that I feel better about the match, too, for your sake. Now you do not have to be ashamed of your countess, or hope I stay hidden in the country. Of course you still deserve a far better wife.”

“I was never ashamed.
And that was why I wanted you to attend, so you would see your own worth.” He laughed. “And if I got what I deserved, I’d be rolling the dice with the Devil. Instead, I am satisfied with our marriage.” Well, he was content, if not precisely satisfied. Ardeth feared he would never be satisfied again. Here he was, sitting across from a beautiful woman, smelling the floral scent she wore, thinking about every crass and crude sex act he had ever seen, heard of, read about, or performed—and doing it with her. Genie was his wife, by Hades, his sweet lady wife, whom he’d sworn to protect.

Now she needed more protection from him than from anyone else.

He was grateful for the changed subject when she asked, “What did you think of my sister?”

“I hardly spoke to her. She appeared tired, in body and spirits. I cannot imagine how anyone ever thought she was more beautiful than you. Perhaps the ugliness inside was eating at her these past years and now she can recover her looks.”

“I think she was merely concerned about my speaking to her husband, and worried about her son.”

“That, too.”

“What about Lord Cormack?”

“He did not mention the boy.”

“No, I meant your opinion of him. You did spend considerable time with the brother-in-law you never expected to see.”

Ardeth had fully expected to meet Cormack at the reception. If not, he would have sought him out tomorrow, to guarantee the baron’s cooperation in restoring Genie’s reputation. After all, the baron would eventually be head of Genie’s family and his goodwill might be a help to her. None of which Ardeth was willing to discuss with Genie. Why dwell on the passage of time when the present was to be savored?

“He seems a nice enough fellow, with his wits about him. He is already making improvements at the mills he inherited from the last baron. I believe I can convince him to make more.”

“The whole business about Lorraine’s wanting to speak to me, asking the princesses to intervene, even begging for my forgiveness, that was all for him, you know. Or to keep him ignorant, at least. Lorraine wants my silence so Roger never finds out how she trapped him into marriage.”

“He knows.”

“No, she swears she never told him. I was never allowed to speak to him myself at the time, lest he believe my story.”

“I told you, Cormack is not a dunderhead.”

Genie was confused. “But then why did he accept responsibility for the loss of Lorraine’s betrothal to Elgin? He could have refused to wed her, knowing she was at fault, leaving her with no fiancé, her reputation in tatters instead of mine. Or was he simply acting nobly?”

Ardeth shrugged. He did not know the man well enough to guess his morals or motives. “I suppose he
wanted her. Or perhaps he wanted a woman who wanted
him badly enough to betray her sister and her lover. Maybe he felt sorry for her.”

“But he never told her he knew.”

“I say it again. The baron is no fool. Her guilt and uncertainty keep her wondering. Now she will never take him for granted.”

Genie thought about that a moment, remembering how Lorraine preyed on the weak. “He sounds as devious as my sister.”

Ardeth agreed. “A match made in heaven, but who is to say? What suits one man might strangle another.”

They were almost at the corner of their street when Genie’s stomach rumbled, loudly enough to be heard over the rattle of the wheels and the hoofbeats, to her embarrassment. Luckily the interior of the coach was too dark for him to see her scarlet blush. “I apologize. I have not eaten in a while.”

“Damme, I should have thought you might be hungry. You never did get to the refreshments table, and I forgot all about finding you a biscuit or something.”

“Nonsense, it is not your fault. I should have had some toast, at least, before we left. Miss Hadley offered me tea and Mrs. Randolph brought me some soup to fill my stomach, but I did not feel hungry then.”

Ardeth was staring out the window, as if he could conjure up a picnic hamper. “I don’t think we should go to a coffeehouse, not with you in a tiara and ruby, and me with no armed guard.”

Genie thought he could defend a fortress with the strength of his glare, but she kept quiet.

“We could stop at one of the hotels,” he suggested. “I hear they serve an excellent meal, no matter what time of day.”

“Oh, no. I can find a roll or some cold chicken at home. Only…”

“Yes?”

“Only I have a fancy for a raspberry ice. I have heard such cravings are common among women who are breeding.”

“I have never had one.”

“A craving?”

Those he’d had aplenty, and still did. “No, a raspberry ice.”

“I do not suppose you found easy access to ice where you were last.”

“Not hardly,” was all he said.

“Gunter’s makes the best, but they will be long closed at this time of night.”

Ardeth tapped on the roof, then gave new directions to Campbell, who efficiently turned the horses, despite a few low-spoken curses.

The confectionary was indeed closed and dark, except for a lamp burning at the back. No, there were no sweets to be had at this time, the floor sweeper told Ardeth, not even a spoonful. Every bit of raspberry ice—and lemon and strawberry, too—had gone to a party at Golden Gollub’s house in Kensington. A cit, Mr. Gollub was, born and bred of the banking family. He was celebrating both the peace and his daughter’s betrothal, hosting gentlemen who would never be invited to the fete at Carlton House, but who might be invited to pay for it.

Ardeth directed Campbell to head to Kensington.

Campbell cursed some more. The Devil knew how long Marie would wait up for him. He turned the horses with slightly more swaying inside the coach.

Genie reached for the leather strap that helped a passenger keep her balance. “We cannot go to Mr. Gollub’s party. We were not invited!”

Ardeth never wavered. “As a matter of fact, I was. I did some of my banking with him. But no, I do not intend to play the aristocrat at his daughter’s ball, nor let my wife outshine the bride-to-be.”

He could not see Genie’s smile, but heard it in her voice when she said thank you. Her voice changed in a moment. “Why are we going out to Kensington, then?”

He laughed at her new, doubting tone. “What, do you think I am going to steal your dessert?”

“Thievery would be better than winkling it out of the house some less, um, ordinary way.”

“Silly little goose. I intend to bribe the servants. That is the way things are done throughout the world, throughout history.”

And he did, as easily as falling off a log—or finding a footman outside relieving himself. Before Genie could worry, alone in the coach a block away, he was back with a bowl of ice and two spoons.

“One bowl was all the fellow would take for what I had in my pocket. I did not think the diamond stickpin my new valet insisted I wear was a fair trade, not even for your pleasure. I must remember to carry more coins. Bribes are far more costly than they used to be.”

Genie was already devouring the cool, sweet confection. “This is so good, I do not care how you got it. Here, taste some.”

He moved over to sit beside her, then dipped in his spoon. “You are quite correct. This is worth petty burglary, if not sorcery.”

There it was again, the doubt. “Are you…?” Genie could not say the word “wizard” or “warlock.” He’d think
she
was the crazy one.

“Am I finished so you can have the rest? If I am a
gentleman, I must swear to be.” But he kept filling his spoon, delight on his face.

Genie ate faster, pausing only to worry about the footman when the bowl and spoons went missing. Some households counted the silverware every night.

“We can return the dish to Mr. Gollub’s garden if you are worried,” Ardeth told her. “They will think one of the diners took a bowl outside to enjoy. I’d wager they find many a champagne glass under the shrubbery, if not a sleeping guest.”

After returning the evidence, Ardeth said he would put in a standing order at Gunter’s for a supply of this new delicacy.

Genie was glad. “Little Sean will adore it, and Miss Hadley worked so hard to prepare me that she deserves a treat.”

When they reached home and had pulled into the carriage drive under the portico, Ardeth did not wait for a footman to come lower the coach steps. He jumped down and lifted Genie out, waving the rushing servant back inside. Campbell drove the coach around to the mews.

By the gas lamps left burning outside the house and the light from the opened door, Ardeth could see that Genie had a raspberry stain on her face. Against his better judgment, he brushed his bare fingers against her lips.

She looked up.

“A bit of the ice got left.”

Genie licked her lips, as if that would clean away the raspberry drip. Then she looked back at him, as if asking if she was tidy enough to face the servants inside. She did not want to appear like a hoydenish child after her first grand outing.

“You are perfect.”

Then she looked at him as if he’d given her the moon, not just an introduction to the prince and polite society, a bit of confection, and a simple compliment.

Ardeth could not help himself. He could almost taste the fruit on her lips, the sweetness. And why not? She was his wife, and she was willing. More than willing, if he judged that bright light in her green eyes rightly. She was eager for him, and that had nothing to do with the punch, the raspberry ice, or the royals. He bent toward her and lowered his head.

…Making it easier for the crow to land on his shoulder.

“Party, pretty? Pretty party?”

“Yes, the reception was lovely,” Genie told the bird.

“And yes, Lady Ardeth was a success,” Ardeth added, after a word Genie had never heard before.

“Alive?”

Genie reached out to stroke the shiny head. “Yes, we missed Olive, but you would not have liked it there. One lady wore peacock feathers.”

“Gawk!” Then the crow turned its unblinking eye on Ardeth. “Alive?”

“Not yet.” But there was still a chance, thanks to the blasted bird. He had not carried his wife upstairs, betraying all he’d sworn. He had done no harm.

*

What was wrong with the man? Genie asked herself as she kicked a stool out of her way in what they were calling the Hourglass Room. He was definitely not like other men. Here she’d been exactly what he’d wanted her to be, a smashing success. Instead of admiring his glittering social butterfly, the earl had shoved her away, back into her dreary cocoon. No, Genie decided, he’d treated her as if
she were a slimy, slithery caterpillar to be kicked under the rock or leaf pile it had crawled from. Soon she’d be too big with child, too awkward, too unattractive. And perhaps too uninterested. To the devil with him. She kicked the stool again.