The Improper Wife (29 page)

They settled into the carriage and it began to roll. Olivia leaned out the window, calling farewells to her son until they were too far away for him to hear. Maggie sat at the other window on the same side of the carriage, so she could see Sean, held in Miss Miles’s arms, his thumb in his mouth. He waved his little hand, and Maggie waved hers in a slow, sad movement. She continued to stare out the window long after the carriage turned the bend and Summerton Hall was no longer in sight.

Gray sat next to her, still fancying he could feel her sadness as if it were his own. When she finally leaned back, he put his arm around her, hoping to show her without words that he understood how difficult it was to leave her son.

Olivia sat in the more desirable forward-facing seat. She fidgeted and rearranged her skirts. She glanced at Maggie. “Oh, Maggie, you must come sit next to me where it is more comfortable.”

“I am perfectly comfortable here,” Maggie said, to Gray’s great satisfaction. He liked having her by his side.

“I am so worried we shall look like dowds!” Olivia exclaimed.

“We shall look very well,” Maggie assured her, though her voice had a distant quality. A part of her was still back with Sean, he fancied. “Have we not copied our dresses from the London fashion plates?”

“Yes.” Olivia nodded. “But I wish we could have shopped there and had a proper modiste make our clothes. I shall die if I look out of fashion.”

All week Olivia had swung from excitement to anxiety about this infernal house party until Gray was sick of hearing it mentioned. One minute she could not wait another day before departing, the next she vowed she could not attend at all. Maggie simply reassured Olivia, but still indicated nothing of her own feelings.

As the carriage jostled them along, Olivia wailed, “I do not see how I can be parted from Rodney! I shall worry myself to the bone over him.”

Maggie turned her face back to the window.

“Your absence will do the boy good,” Gray said. “He’ll be off to school one of these days. It is time he became accustomed to being without his mother.”

“I cannot bear for him to go away to school,” cried Olivia. “How can you suggest such a thing?”

That was an argument for another day, Gray decided. He turned to Maggie. “Sean will be all right as well,” he said softly.

She returned a wobbly smile, but nothing more.

“I wonder if I should know any of the guests?” Olivia prattled on. “It has been so long since I have been to a party. I should know the Camervilles, of course. Gray, you should know people, should you not?”

He did not much care if he did or did not. He thought of this party more as something to endure, not enjoy.

“Perhaps,” he replied to Olivia.

“Oh, Maggie, I do not think you shall know anyone. I do not suppose anyone from the west country will have been invited. Do not fear. I shall stay by your side.” Olivia clasped her hand.

“Thank you,” was all Maggie said.

West country? Gray almost asked Maggie what part of the west country, but he caught himself. Olivia would wonder why, as her husband, he did not know such a thing.

He tried to settle back in his seat and allow Olivia’s nervous chatter to wash over him. He enjoyed having Maggie so close by his side. He supposed, at the country house party, husbands and wives would not be encouraged to remain so close. If he remembered Cammy correctly—and the story of Miss Miles’s short employ there suggested he did—he ought to stay as close to Maggie and Olivia as possible. This party did not promise him much enjoyment. In fact, Gray noted with some surprise, he would much rather they all be home at Summerton with the earl.

Sitting within the warmth of Gray’s arm, Maggie too dreamed of being back at Summerton, where she had been so safe these last two years. Olivia’s nerves were nothing compared to her own. The closer the carriage brought them to the Camerville estate, the more intense were her waves of panic.

Suppose Olivia was wrong? Suppose someone did know her? The possibility was slim, to be sure, but it did exist. What if one of her schoolmates had married a man from Kent? What if they attended the party? She tried to recall if she’d read any such marriage announcement in the newspapers, but could not.

Being recognized was her biggest worry, but certainly not the only one. What would she talk of? What would she say if other guests asked her who her parents were, or where she was from? Or why their marriage had not been announced in the newspapers? She must invent replies.

She was no closer to composing answers to such questions when they turned onto the Camerville lands. Her pulse was beating wildly by the time they drove up to the front of a three-story red-brick country mansion, smaller than Summerton Hall and, Maggie decided, not nearly as beautiful.

Footmen ran from the house as they pulled up to the door. She and Olivia were assisted from the carriage.

Gray climbed out after them. “Our baggage and servants will be arriving directly,” he told the footmen.

Kitt, Decker, and Olivia’s maid were following in a separate coach. Bringing one’s personal servants was an extravagance outside of Maggie’s experience, but Olivia had insisted upon it. The footmen did not blink an eye, so it must be what was expected.

This was the sort of thing she did not know. If she made a similar slip, she would certainly direct attention her way. Above all, she did not want to stimulate anyone’s curiosity.

“It is a lovely house, is it not?” Olivia exclaimed. “It has been an age since I visited here.”

Since her husband had been alive, Maggie suspected. She tried to keep in mind how good for Olivia this outing could be.

“It is very nice,” she replied.

One footman led them into the house while the other remained outside to give instructions to the coachman. Olivia grabbed Maggie’s hand, squeezing nervously as they entered the house.

The entrance hall, smaller than Summerton’s, was in contrast to Summerton’s classical white; ablaze with color, bright yellow and Chinese red. Maggie and Olivia had read about such modern colors in the
La Belle Assemblée.

The Camerville butler greeted them and saw to it their hats and wraps were taken. He escorted them to the parlor and announced their arrival.

One lady, as blond as Olivia, but with more generous curves, sprang to her feet and rushed over to greet them.

“How do you do. So good of you to come.” She turned to Olivia. “Why, Lady Palmely! You look not one day older than when we made our come-out! It is so bad of you. Do you remember? We had our first season together and luckily you snared your viscount early or there would have been no gentlemen to notice the rest of us.”

Olivia extended her hand for her hostess to shake. “And I would have known you anywhere, Lady Camerville.” She stepped aside. “Let me make known to you my brother-in-law and his wife, Captain and Mrs. Grayson.”

Lady Camerville gave Gray a very direct look. “My, my, how fine you look, sir! I confess we were somewhat surprised to hear you were at Summerton after all.”

“I hope my note did not distress you. The addition of an unexpected guest can be troublesome.”

She shook his hand, looking at him as a cat might look at a dish of cream. “Not over much, sir, and very well worth it.”

“My wife, ma’am.” He forced her to direct her attention to Maggie.

Maggie saw the woman’s brown eyes reluctantly leave Gray and begin to assess her. The lady offered her a limp handshake. “Yes, I do not believe anyone has had the opportunity to meet you.”

“It was very good of you to include me,” Maggie managed.

Lady Camerville fixed her interest back onto Gray. “Come meet the others.” There were about eight people in the large room already. “We shall have more guests arriving, twenty in all.”

“Twenty!” exclaimed Olivia, drawing back a little.

Lady Camerville led them over to the other guests. Maggie could not fail to notice the appreciative looks the ladies gave Gray. It made her want to snatch him away like a child’s toy and declare,
“He’s mine!”
though in truth he was free to make an assignation with any lady he chose.

Olivia was soon surrounded and happily conversing. Maggie remained at Gray’s side.

“My husband is playing billiards with some other gentlemen, Captain,” Lady Camerville said to Gray. “Would you care to join them?”

“I will stay here,” he replied, to Maggie’s relief.

They sat with another couple, who asked Gray polite questions about his father’s health, the estate, and Gray’s military career. Maggie remained as quiet as possible. She noticed that Lady Camerville’s wandering gaze often lighted upon Gray, and felt wild with jealousy.

After a half hour or so, Sir Francis arrived. When he was announced, Olivia gave him a brilliant smile, but she did not leave the group with whom she was speaking. He wandered over to Gray and Maggie, his smile pasted on his face.

“I am glad to see you here,” Maggie told him in all sincerity. “It is a comfort to me.”

He glanced over to Olivia. “She looks to be enjoying herself.” His sad voice betrayed his feelings.

Maggie did not know how to console him. He was not presently the most valued person in the room to Olivia. “Yes, it is what she hoped for.”

Gray soon drew Sir Francis into the discussion. When the others were talking, Gray leaned over to Maggie. “Are you comfortable?”

No!
she wanted to scream.
I am not. I want to go home to Summerton.
At least she could pretend Summerton was home, but here was only danger. And other ladies who found him attractive.

“Perfectly comfortable,” she lied.

To her surprise and delight, he squeezed her hand.

There were more arrivals and more people to meet. Each time someone turned to face her, her heart pounded in fear of seeing a familiar face. So far she had not.

Soon it was time to dress for dinner. Lady Camerville, still casting occasional glances Gray’s way, walked with the new arrivals above stairs, where maids waited on the landing to direct each new arrival to their rooms.

“Captain and Mrs. Grayson?” one of the maids asked.

“Yes,” Gray replied.

“This way, please.”

She led them down a hall, stopping in front of one door. “This will be your room,” she said, opening the door.

“For which of us?” Maggie asked.

The maid looked confused. “Why, both of you, ma’am. I beg pardon, but her ladyship told me—”

Both of them.
Her hand pressed against the sudden flutter in her abdomen.

“Thank you, miss.” Gray’s voice sounded stiff.

The maid curtsied and left them.

Maggie glanced at Gray. He entered, but she remained on the threshold. Kitt and Decker stood waiting.

“There is a dressing room for you, ma’am,” Kitt said. “I have unpacked your trunk. Your dinner dress is ready.”

She had no choice but to walk in. A large bed with white linen dominated her vision. Her glance darted to Gray. He was silent, but what could he say to her with the valet and maid present?

“Thank you, Kitt,” she managed, trying to be grateful at least to have a private place to dress. Without looking at Gray, she followed Kitt into the dressing room.

Kitt, chattering with some excitement at being in a grand new house, helped Maggie into the blue muslin gown Olivia insisted complemented her eyes. Maggie heard none of it. When she emerged from the dressing room, Gray was in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, waiting for Decker to assist him on with his dinner coat. Her heart skipped several beats.

He turned away from her and her heart turned to lead. How unhappy he must be to be forced into such an intimate arrangement with her. The last time they had been so intimately alone together, he’d made it clear he had no fancy to bed her. She’d never lost that physical awareness of him, that sense of time stopping when he came near, but though she still ached for him far too often, he had never again approached her.

Maggie sat at the nearby dressing table and Kitt began to arrange her hair. In the mirror she could see Gray put his arms into the sleeves of his coat, and shrug his shoulders so the coat would fit over them as if molded to his back. Decker fussed with his neckcloth and dusted off imaginary lint.

“There you are, ma’am,” Kitt said after placing a flower in among the curls she’d created to cascade from the crown of Maggie’s head.

“Thank you.” Maggie barely looked at herself. She stood and faced Gray.

“You both have done well,” Gray addressed the valet and maid. “Take your leave. I am certain your dinner awaits you.”

“Very good, sir.” Decker bowed.

Perhaps he and Kitt would enjoy the novelty of being away from Summerton. Someone ought to. Decker closed the door behind them, and suddenly Maggie and Gray were alone. They stared at each other.

“I hope—” Maggie began.

“Maggie—” Gray said.

She gave a nervous laugh, then forced her pulse to slow its beat. “Do . . . do you want me to ask Olivia if I might share her room?”

He walked toward her, coming close enough for her to catch the scent of his soap. “Do you want to stay with Olivia?”

She shook her head, telling herself it would only cause talk. His eyes darkened, but did that mean he approved or disapproved of her choice?

He drew his finger across the bare skin of her neck. “You wear no jewelry.”

His gentle touch caused her senses to hum. “I have none.”

She longed for him to touch more of her. She suddenly wanted to feel his hand upon her breast, to feel it move down her abdomen, to her belly, to that part of her now aching for him.

His breath upon her face was cool. She closed her eyes, and her lips parted.

There was a knock at the door. “Maggie?”

It was Olivia.

Gray stepped away.

“Come in,” Maggie called, but she still trembled inside.

Olivia flounced into the room. “Oh, you look beautiful, Maggie. How do I look? Will this dress do?”

She twirled around in her cream silk gown, a dress that perfectly complemented her complexion and golden hair.

“You look very well,” Maggie said as her heart resumed its regular beat.