by Unknown
"Dared not, sir? La, but I must protest! I had no idea I was such a stern mistress." Her eyes sparkled
with laughter as she gazed at him in naked admiration. In his black velvet coat, black knee britches with diamond buckles, plain white silk stockings, and profusion of Dresden lace, he stood out from the richly dressed, heavily jeweled throng—the epitome of elegance amongst popinjays.
"You are about to suffer the consequences of your importunity, ma'am. I am come merely to take you home." The noise and laughter around her faded to a distant buzz as Danielle read the deep sensual message in the black eyes holding hers. They both seemed to exist in a bewitched private circle of mutual adoration and passion until someone behind them shifted, coughing slightly, bringing the scene into sharp focus again.
"Dear me, sir," Danny protested with a light laugh, "I have but just arrived. I cannot possibly leave now. Why, my card is completely filled." She indicated the dance card hanging by a thin ribband from her wrist.
"Nevertheless, Madam Wife, you will make your excuses." There was an unmistakable note of authority in the calm voice that told her clearly that the time for games was not now.
"As my lord commands." She swept a low curtsy, head bowed in meek submission and Linton's lips twitched. A less submissive wife than his would indeed be hard to find.
"Linton, you are a tyrant. I swear it." An artificial laugh accompanied the slightly peevish tone and Justin turned with raised eyebrows to view the speaker; a willowy gentleman in an impossibly wasp-waisted coat, powdered hair piled high over an enormous ladder-toupet, and so many fobs and seals adorning
his garments that hardly a stitch of material was left untouched.
"Do you really think so, Layton?" Justin inquired softly, lifting his quizzing glass and subjecting the macaroni to a minute, disdainful scrutiny that brought a dull flush to the pallid complexion.
"He is most certainly not a tyrant, and it is most discourteous in you to say such a thing." Danny rushed quite unnecessarily to her husband's defense. "Maybe, if you did not lace yourself so tightly, sir, your humor would be ... Oh!" She fell silent as Lord Julian with brutal lack of ceremony squeezed her upper arm. Danielle, far from resenting the brotherly interference, gave him a warm grateful smile and made haste to retrieve the situation.
"Gentlemen, I must bid you good night. My Lord is but newly returned from Danesbury and I am certain is fatigued after his journey." She shot him an impish grin. "Is it not so, Linton?"
"Absolutely, my love," her husband replied smoothly as he took her hand and tucked it firmly under his arm. "If you are quite ready . .."
Danielle sank into an elegant curtsy as she smiled around the group and allowed herself to be led away toward the French doors into the ballroom.
"You wretch, Danny," Linton said when they were out of earshot. "I would much prefer the sobriquet
of tyrant to that of milksop who is exhausted after a day's travel!"
Danielle chuckled. "Well, I had to say something, milord."
"You had already said quite enough. How could you have referred to Layton's corset in that fashion?"
Danielle reassured herself with a quick underlash glance that he was, in fact, amused. "You must admit
he looks quite ridiculous, Justin."
"I do admit it and was in the process of indicating that fact when you flew into battle."
"Do not pretend to be cross, for I know quite well that you are not," she declared stoutly. "Now, how
am I to leave here discreetly whilst abandoning all my promised dance partners."
"I am certain the room is full of damsels who will be overjoyed to take your place. I must confess, milady, that when I married you I did not expect to have to remove you bodily from such a vast circle of admirers." The smile that accompanied this was so full of pride and love that she could not resist a small skip of pleasure, an action that brought a deep chuckle from her companion. "Come, we must make our excuses to the duchess. More than that will not be necessary. Your intended partners will discover your absence soon enough."
They progressed through the ballroom, objects of considerable envy for both sexes and all ages. The Earl of Linton had been causing female hearts to flutter since his sixteenth year. Until Danielle de St. Varennes had appeared in a Parisian back alley, hope had continued to spring eternal in the bosoms of young ladies and their mamas. That hope had been dashed by a schoolroom miss. Tongues had wagged with malicious pleasure until it had become apparent that however unconventional the chit, she had the patronage of the bear leaders and hardly a male member of the ton would listen to a word of criticism. Young ladies interested in keeping their beaux learned to mention the Countess of Linton only with praise and to keep their envy to themselves.
The Duchess of Rutland was in the large drawing room above stairs enjoying the company of her cronies who preferred conversation and the card tables to the youthful pleasures of the ballroom. "Ah, Linton has found his wife," she said to the Dowager, Countess of Linton, seated beside her on the sofa. "Do they
not make an entrancing couple?" The dowager's response was not encouraging.
"There is your maman." Danielle stopped in the doorway. "I would like a glass of champagne and I suddenly find myself very hungry. May we not go to the buffet before we leave?"
"By all means, my love." Justin escorted her to the supper room. "If you will tell me exactly how hungry you are, my dear, I will bring you supper." The solicitous smile was belied by the question in his eyes. Whatever had struck Danielle so suddenly, it was definitely not appetite.
"I am not at all hungry." Danielle confirmed his suspicion. "I just do not wish to meet your mama."
"Enlighten me, pray." He took snuff, the tender amusement quite gone from the blue black eyes.
"She took it upon herself to give me a thundering scold just the other day and to tell me, if you please, that in your absence it was her duty to inform me how to go on in Society. I..." Danielle bit her lower lip. "I am afraid that I told her I did not accept her authority. She ... she ... may have thought me a little impolite."
"And were you?" her husband asked. "Just a little impolite?"
Danny shook her head. "No, very impolite."
"Well, since I have no desire to spoil our reunion tonight, you shall tell me the whole some other time.
For now, you will greet your belle-mere with due decorum and we will make our farewells. I grow impatient, wife."
"I, also, husband," Danielle murmured, meeting his gaze with such candid sensuality that Justin inhaled sharply. Whatever she had done to offend his mother was of no importance—this glorious, uninhibited creature who brought him such pleasure would inevitably offend, on occasion, such a high stickler as the dowager countess, but Justin was in no wise prepared to curb a nature so freely loving, not if it would mean, as it surely would, tbe loss of his beloved wild mistress.
He steered her back to the drawing room and watched with quivering lip Danielle's meek obeisance to her mama-in-law and that lady's stiff response. His mother greeted him with the request that he wait upon her on the morrow. "I am at your service, ma'am." Justin bowed and turned to the duchess. "Your grace, I regret that we must take our leave."
"I am sure that you do," Amelia said with a tranquil smile. "Danielle, my dear, you must call upon me. I understand that you no longer patronize Lutece, and I insist upon being the first to follow in your footsteps. There is something most distinctive about that gown, do you not agree, Matilda?"
Matilda had never been able to fault her daughter-in-law's attire and acceded with a small sniff.
"I was unaware, my love, that you had ceased to patronize Lutece," Justin remarked, handing his wife into the light chaise. "How long ago was this?"
Danielle shrugged. "Some weeks, my lord. I do not recall exactly."
"Another emigre, Danielle?" He sat beside her on the blue squabbed seat.
Since last October and the attack on Versailles when the king and his family ha
d been forced by the people to take up residence in the old Parisian palace of the Tuileries and the National Assembly had followed, Parisian life had become a hotbed of excitable politicking and rough justice. Merchants had been leaving the city in droves, taking with them only what they could secrete about their persons, abandoning their houses and businesses and leaving their employees and domestic servants to roam the streets. Many of them had come to London, where they found themselves frequently in financial circumstances so reduced that they were hard pressed to put bread in their mouths. But they were skilled at many trades and Danielle had kept her ears open. Her hairdresser was a case in point and now, apparently, her dressmaker—a lady who, no doubt, had once presided over a sizable Parisian establishment but now had only her own skills to sell.
"Do you object, Justin?"
"Not a whit." He smiled. "But I am inclined to play outraged husband when my wife's decolletage leaves so little to the imagination." Stretching a lazy finger he removed one breast from the bare concealment of her neckline. "A little higher, in future, my love—if you please."
Danielle made no response except for a small sigh as his long fingers moved over the exposed nipple. The chaise drew to a halt and Justin swiftly tucked the smooth globe back into her gown. "You may be a married lady, Danny, but I do not care for the ease with which that exposure was accomplished. You
will instruct your new dressmaker so, will you not?"
"Bien sur, milord," she murmured, shooting him an underlash look of pure mischief before alighting from the chaise on the footman's waiting arm. It seemed an aeon ago that the urchin Danny had first seen Linton House and had clung for an instant to her protector's shadow. She was now undisputed mistress
of this huge establishment and most definitely the undisputed mistress of its master.
Danielle skipped up the steps to the opened door where Bedford stood bowing in the light flooding from the hall. "Thank you, Bedford. Is it not wonderful that My Lord was able to conclude his business so rapidly?" She stripped off her elbow-length satin gloves.
"Just so, my lady." Bedford looked over her head to direct a withering look at the new footman who was not accustomed to the candid way matters were conducted these days in the house of Linton. The footman's smile died in embryo.
"You had a pleasant evening, my lord?" Bedford bowed again as Linton stepped into the hall behind his wife.
"Thank you, yes. You may send the household to bed now, Bedford."
"Yes, my lord. There is a message for you, in your bookroom." The butler lowered his voice and Justin looked at him sharply before inclining his head in brief acknowledgment.
Danielle registered both the lowered voice and the sharp look. She walked down the corridor toward the bookroom. "We should take a glass of port, Linton, before we retire."
Justin followed her swiftly. Danielle cast only the briefest glance at the missive resting on the silver salver on the desk before going over to the decanter. "Will you take a glass, sir?"
Linton recognized the handwriting instantly and chose to ignore the letter. He went to his wife, removing the decanter from her hand. "You will oblige me, Danielle, by going to your bedchamber and telling
Molly that she may go to bed." His lips nuzzled her neck. "I wish to unwrap you myself, this night."
"Will you not read your message, milord?" She leaned backward ashis hands slipped again to her bosom. "There must be some urgency; n'est-cepas? The messenger arrived so late."
Justin sighed. Danielle's sharp eyes rarely missed things. "Open it and read it for yourself, Danielle, if you are so anxious to know its contents." He released her, picked up the letter, and handed it to her, together with the silver paper knife. His conscience was quite clear on the subject of | Margaret Mainwairing, and Danielle had never evinced anything but a sophisticated acceptance of his premarital existence.
However, she shook her head. "I have no desire to read your personal correspondence, Justin. We shall exchange confidences in the morning. I shall tell you how dreadfully I upset your maman and you shall tell me all about the lady who sends you mysterious messages late at night when you are supposed to be out of town for another week. Is it agreed?"
"Agreed, wife. Will you now dismiss your maid?"
"Shall I also dismiss Petersham for you?" Her eyes danced wickedly as she moved to the door. "I might also enjoy unwrapping my present."
Odd's blood, but she was beautiful—half Danny, half Danielle; urchin eyes under the elegant coiffure, the eager, wanting body beneath the formal gown. Justin, Earl of Linton, wanted his wife as he had wanted no other woman. "Co on," he instructed. "I shall join you in five minutes."
Danielle slipped from the room with a soft laugh and a rustle of her satin skirts, satisfied that the lady who penned notes to her husband in violet ink on scented paper was no threat to the Countess of Linton.
"You may go to bed, Molly." She whisked into her chamber, closing the door behind her. She was in the old "blue room." Justin's suggestion that she take over the countess's traditional suite of rooms in the west wing had been received with backstreet indignation—her husband was suggesting that they sleep at opposite ends of the house? Justin, with secret delight, had cut short her profanities and agreed to their adjoining bedchambers and Danielle's private sitting room in the west wing. The blue room was now white and gold with a small powder closet built into one corner. Danielle generally ignored her own sitting room in favor of her husband's private* parlor where she was frequently to be found with a book or asleep on the sofa in the late afternoon.
Petersham had become quite accustomed to Her Ladyship's presence as he laid out my lord's evening clothes, and was even resigned to the ever-open connecting door and Lady Danny's unconventional appearances when the earl was involved in the sacrosanct activity of tying his cravat.
Molly had been dozing in a brocade armchair beside the dying fire and leapt to her feet, blinking rapidly. "M'lady, I didn't expect you so soon."
"No, and you may go to bed, immediatementl" Danielle kicked off her bronze kid pumps. "My Lord is home."
"So I understand, m'lady." Molly picked up the shoes and hid her smile. "Shall I help you with your dress?"
"Yes, perhaps you had better," Danielle agreed thoughtfully. The gown was delicate and, while Justin was never clumsy . . . "And the hoop also, if you please."
If she pleased! Molly busied herself with the tiny fastenings. Her abrupt elevation from below-stairs maid-of-all-work to personal maid to the Countess of Linton still produced nightmares of disbelief.
Danielle had surveyed the ranks of impeccably qualified ladies' maids marched by her at Peter Haversham's direction with a curling inside. She would never be able to deal with any one of these stiff women with their disdainful noses and unmovable opinions as to what was right and proper. She would have Molly, the housekeeper's granddaughter, and no other. Justin had agreed instantly, recognizing his wife's need for companionship of her own age. There had been tempestuous rumblings belowstairs at this unforeseen advancement of one of the lowliest members of the hierarchy. Molly's tears at the unkindness had led to a confrontation between Danielle and Bedford, who had found himself requested by an icy aristocrat to keep his house in order. His dignified complaint to the earl had resulted in the simple statement that if Bedford wished for a recommendation to work elsewhere, the Earl of Linton would be happy to furnish it. End of confrontation and Molly reigned supreme in the countess's bedchamber and Bedford's staff held their tongues.
Now Molly hung up the bronze satin gown in the wardrobe and surveyed her mistress clad in petticoats and chemise. "Will that be all, m'lady?"
"That will be all, thank you, Molly." The earl's voice came k from the connecting doorway as he appeared, still dressed in his evening clothes.
"Yes, m'lord." Molly bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. It was a familiar scene.
"Now, milady." The earl crossed to his wife. "We were talking about unwrapping, as I recall."
It was dawn when Linton awoke. He lay relishing the sensation of the soft body beside him—one week away from her was definitely too long. As if echoing his thought, Danielle rolled onto her back and murmured sleepily, "I have missed you, sir. In future, I shall not permit you to leave me behind when
you go about your so tedious business."
The earl smiled and flipped her onto her stomach. Since he had no plans in the foreseeable future for leaving her, any full-scale-arguments could safely be postponed. He said only, "I do not accept ultimatums, madam," and began to nuzzle his way down the long narrow back.
Danielle stretched and purred, whimpering with pleasure when he took her little pink toes into his mouth. Then she murmured, "Tell me, milord, about the lady who knows you so well that she writes pretty messages in the middle of the night."
Justin groaned. "Not now, Danny, please."
"Now is a good time," she insisted. "While you are doing these so nice things to me, I shall not feel jealous of the lady. And then I will do some so nice things to you while I tell you what your maman is waiting to tell you when you call upon her this morning." Her tone indicated that she considered such a course of action perfectly logical and reasonable and she was probably right, Justin reflected, running his tongue along the high arches of her feet. Danielle squirmed deliriously.