The Marrying Season (26 page)

His cheeks reddened and she thought for a moment
that he was about to flare up as he had yesterday afternoon. She straightened, waiting—even perhaps anticipating—his outburst. But he pulled himself back under control. “Of course. If that is what you wish.”

After that, nothing passed their lips but the most ordinary and stilted of comments.

By the time supper was over, Genevieve’s stomach was in knots and a headache was forming behind her eyes. It was a huge relief to end the meal, but the even more awful prospect of attending the theater awaited her. She wished that she had taken Myles up on his suggestion that she stay at the Park instead of coming to London with him. Of course, now she realized that he had suggested it because he had been eager to be away from her—and that thought was another sharp little stab to her heart.

The theater was ablaze with lights when they arrived. Every eye in the crowded lobby seemed to be on her, but Genevieve did not look to either side, keeping her chin high. Much to her annoyance, her hand trembled a little on Myles’s arm. He laid his other hand over it, and Genevieve glanced at him, surprised. He looked for a moment like the old Myles, his eyes alight in a blend of mischief, defiance, and warmth. She could not help but smile at him a little in gratitude.

He took her free hand and raised it to his lips.

“Myles, we are in public,” she protested, her heart suddenly fluttering inside her chest.

“I know. That is exactly why.”

“Oh. Of course.” He was putting on a show for those
who watched them, playing the part of a devoted husband. Genevieve looked away, afraid of the disappointment he might read in her face. It turned her stomach to ice to see all the faces staring at her, then glancing hastily away. It seemed as if the buzz of voices grew louder.

They started toward Alec’s box at an unhurried pace. Myles paused to greet a friend here and there, introducing his new wife with great pride. Genevieve could only marvel at his deft social touch. His calm imbued her with the same quality, and she greeted each person with a smile, her way eased by Myles’s confidence and geniality.

“Sir Myles. And Lady Genevieve,” Lady Hemphurst greeted them. She was one of the women who hung about Genevieve’s grandmother, hoping to be counted as her confidante. But Genevieve could see the greedy interest in the woman’s eyes, and she knew that the woman’s greeting was prompted less by loyalty to Lady Rawdon and more by a desire to see the proud Lady Genevieve Stafford brought low by scandal. “What a surprise to run into you here in London. I would have thought you would find a more . . . entertaining way to spend the time.” Lady Hemphurst tittered behind her fan, casting a sly look at Myles.

“My lady, I confess I could not stay away from you.” Myles took Lady Hemphurst’s hand and bowed charmingly over it, flooding the woman with compliments.

Lady Hemphurst bridled and giggled. “Sir Myles, you are such a flirt. It has sent all of London into a dither to
learn that its most eligible bachelor has been snapped up. We were all agog to hear that Lady Genevieve had caught you.”

“Lady Genevieve was the catch, I assure you, not I.” Myles favored his wife with a tender look. “I only hurried to secure her hand before someone else could steal a march on me.”

Lady Hemphurst beamed at Myles. “You have my sincerest congratulations, sir. Lady Genevieve’s grandmother is a woman of the greatest consequence.”

“Indeed she is,” Myles agreed affably.

“I do hope you and Lady Genevieve will be able to attend my little party next week. Just a trifling thing, you understand, nothing to compare to the countess’s balls at Stafford House, but I promise we shall have dancing. Everyone would love to see the two of you take the floor as husband and wife for the first time.”

“Indeed. You can count on us,” Myles said smoothly.

“Genevieve.” Lady Rawdon strode toward them, Alec and Damaris trailing in her wake. “Lady Hemphurst. So good to see you. I hope you will excuse us; I have not had a chance for a good coze with my granddaughter yet.”

The countess slipped her arm through Genevieve’s, and with a gracious nod to the beaming Lady Hemphurst, she swept Genevieve away to their box, the others all falling in around them, effectively separating Genevieve from the rest of the crowd. “What a ghastly crush,” the countess said as they went inside the box. “Here, Genevieve, come sit beside me in front. Let them get out
all their staring straightaway. Alec, close the door at once before someone wants to join us.”

Alec obeyed, then seated Damaris on Genevieve’s other side as carefully as if his wife were made of glass. The three women cast a glance at each other and began to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Alec said good-humoredly. “I am an old woman.” He nodded toward Myles warningly. “Just you wait until it happens to you. Then you’ll see.”

Genevieve looked down at her gloved hands to hide the pang that struck her at his words. Myles would want an heir, of course, but how was she to bear him coming to her bed now, knowing what he thought of her? Cold. She had melted in his hands, but he found her cold. Her grandmother’s conversation flowed around her, but Genevieve heard not a word.

“Genevieve, hold your head up.” Her grandmother tapped Genevieve on the leg with her fan. “You cannot droop in front of everyone.”

“Yes, Grandmama.” Genevieve obediently lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“What is playing tonight?” Damaris asked, drawing the countess’s attention.

“Goodness, child, I don’t know. What does it matter? Ah, there is Lady Somerdale; I knew the rumors of her demise were false. It would take more than a fall down the stairs to carry her off.” The countess gave a regal nod of her head to the old lady in the box across from them. “Genevieve, smile at them. Lord Somerdale hasn’t the
slightest idea who you are, of course—or anyone else, for that matter.”

The countess continued in this vein, nodding, now and then giving a smile to someone, other times staring down some upstart or other with her opera glasses, all the while chatting away as if she and Genevieve were carrying on a lively conversation. Genevieve did her best to keep her mind on what her grandmother was saying, but found it a relief when the curtain opened and she was able to sit back and pretend to watch the play.

When the first act ended, Genevieve and the others left the box. It would be better, as Lady Rawdon pointed out, to face the curious masses in the lobby, where they could walk away, rather than risk being trapped in their theater box by some gossip who hadn’t the courtesy to leave. Alec and Myles set off to get refreshments for the ladies, and Genevieve strolled down the corridor with Damaris and her grandmother, schooling her face into a look of polite unconcern.

“I believe that you have made a far better match than your original one,” her grandmother said, watching Myles as he walked away.

“That is faint praise,” Genevieve retorted.

“True. Lord Dursbury was a disappointment. However, what I meant was that Sir Myles will make you a better husband than I
hoped
Dursbury would be. I used to think Sir Myles a bit of a peacock, but I am beginning to believe I underestimated him. I could not have orchestrated your entrance tonight any better myself.”

“Yes, he is very adept.” Genevieve saw that Myles had paused to speak to a group of people, one of whom was the attractive dark-haired woman her grandmother had identified as Myles’s most recent mistress. The woman greeted Myles with a smile, and a sharp pain twisted in Genevieve’s chest. She wasn’t jealous, of course. It would be absurd to expect a man such as Myles not to have had lovers.

But, if she was honest, she knew that it galled her to think that Myles had once done the same things with this woman that he had done with her. Worse, she could not help but wonder if he had enjoyed it more with Mrs. Bedlington. She was, after all, a widow, accustomed to being with a man. She would not have been anxious or clumsy or uncertain or any of the things Genevieve had been. She would not have been
cold
.

Nor could she help but think how easy it would be for him to find some attractive, agreeable widow or courtesan who would shower him with affection, never saying a cross word. She jerked her gaze away, irritated with herself, and when she looked back, Myles had left the group and she could no longer see him.

Beside her, Damaris said in a low voice, “Lord Dursbury is here.”

“What?” Genevieve stiffened. Of all the terrible luck! “Where?”

“Yes, I saw them,” her grandmother said, her face revealing none of the irritation that sounded in her voice. “They are standing near the staircase.”

Genevieve casually surveyed the room until her gaze fell upon her former fiancé, talking with one of his friends and Iona Halford, who was hanging on Dursbury’s every word. “Why did I ever decide to marry that man?” Genevieve murmured, and Damaris chuckled.

“He was a most eligible bachelor, however lacking he turned out to be. He is still much sought after. I have heard that the little mouse has made great inroads in that regard.”

“Miss Halford? She is welcome to him.” Genevieve was faintly surprised by the indifference she felt at seeing Dursbury.

Alec returned and handed Damaris a glass, saying in a warning voice, “Have a care; you’re about to receive a visitor.” He took up his place beside his wife and stood stoically.

“What?” The countess glanced up. “Oh, blast! It’s that dreadful woman.”

Genevieve followed her gaze and saw Myles walking back toward them, Lady Dursbury clinging to his arm, her face turned up to him admiringly. Genevieve could not help but notice that not only was the neckline of Lady Dursbury’s dress far lower than her own, she also had a great deal more to reveal. As she watched, Elora playfully rapped Myles’s arm with her fan before opening it to flirt with him over the top of it.

“Countess. My dear.” Myles disengaged from Elora as he handed Genevieve and her grandmother their glasses of ratafia.

“Countess!” Elora swept forward to take Lady Rawdon’s hand between both of hers. Anyone who knew her grandmother would have recognized irritation in the twitch of her lips.

“Lady Dursbury,” Lady Rawdon replied with a great deal less enthusiasm. “How very . . . unexpected to see you.”

“Indeed. Had I known you would be here, of course, I would have been even more eager to attend . . . though I would not, of course, have encouraged Dursbury to come, as well. Lady Rawdon.” She gave Damaris a cursory nod before turning to Genevieve. “I had no idea that we would see you here, Genevieve. I was so surprised when Sir Myles came up to me. I had assumed, of course, that you were still on your honeymoon. Is that not just like a man to cut one’s honeymoon short so he can return to the city?”

“Lady Dursbury.” Genevieve gave the woman a carefully measured smile.

“You must not be so formal with me!” Elora reached out and patted Genevieve’s arm. “We know each other far too well for that. I hope you will not think that I hold any animosity toward you. Whatever anyone else said, I was certain that you did nothing wrong. I told my stepson that very night that it was bound to be just a misunderstanding.” Elora shrugged. “But, of course, Dursbury is a very proud man. And people love to talk. That dreadful Lady Looksby simply would not keep silent about it. Well, it sold an enormous number of
The Onlooker,
and
one cannot expect such people to have any honor, after all. Thank heavens you were not here so you did not have to read all the articles.”

Genevieve murmured some response, though Elora clearly needed none to keep her conversation going. Elora turned to cast a coy look at Myles and laid her hand on his sleeve, saying, “Sir Myles is such a knight, in both truth and spirit, coming to your rescue in that way.”

Genevieve’s eyes followed Elora’s hand, something hot and fierce sparking in her chest. The smile she turned on the other woman made Elora’s eyes widen in surprise.

“It was Lady Genevieve who did me the honor,” Myles said pleasantly, stepping into the awkward gap.

Elora let out a romantic sigh, her eyes shining up at Myles. “Such a jewel of a man, is he not?” She turned back to Genevieve. “There is no need to wish you happy, for I know that must be the result of your union. I am sure Sir Myles’s mother must have been extremely eager to meet you. Such a shame that you were married too quickly for her to attend.”

“Yes. Lady Julia is a lovely woman,” Genevieve countered.

“I hope that you and I will remain friends, despite the . . . incident.” Elora stepped closer to Genevieve, turning back to face Myles, positioning herself, Genevieve suspected, so that Elora’s lush, dark beauty would contrast favorably to Genevieve’s pale, angular appearance. “Indeed, I hope you will all come to my musicale next week. I would have sent you an invitation already had I
realized you would rush back from your honeymoon so quickly.”

“That is most kind of you, but I don’t think we should,” Genevieve began her refusal.

“No, you must not refuse me. I shall be devastated if you will not come. And if you are worried about any awkwardness, let me assure you that my stepson will not be there. He despises musicales. So like a man, isn’t it?’

Genevieve did not believe in the woman’s pretense of friendship any more than she wanted to accept it. It was ludicrous that Elora was talking to the woman her stepson had jilted only a month earlier, and Genevieve suspected that her sole reason in doing so was to seize an opportunity to flirt with Myles. She opened her mouth again to decline, but Elora waved her words away.

“No, no, do not answer me yet. Think about it first. I am sure Lady Rawdon will agree with me that our being seen together at my little gathering will do much to repair this silly puff of a scandal.” Elora smiled at Genevieve and the countess, then looked up at Myles, her lips curving sensually. “Do tell me that you will accompany them, Sir Myles.”

“I fear you are quite right that men do not like musicales,” Genevieve put in lightly. “Myles is quite opposed to them.”

Myles smiled, “Indeed, my wife is correct, as always. Ah, I believe the second act is about to start. We must take our leave.”