by Jane Feather
“Can we move closer to Diana and Charlie?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him properly since he returned from his country convalescence.”
Guy obligingly steered them both around the floor until they were dancing next to their quarry. “How’s the arm, Aldershot?”
“Feeble,” Charlie replied with a grimace. “But I’m working on it. Petra, I’m heartbroken, of course, but I wish you every happiness. And you, Granville. I’d give much to be in your shoes.”
Petra laughed, and blew him a kiss. “You won’t be a lovelorn swain for long, Charlie. Eager debutantes are lining up three deep with their tongues hanging out for your attention.”
“Much as I deplore my betrothed’s vulgar way of expressing herself, Aldershot, I suspect she’s right,” Guy said. “Do you care to exchange partners? If Diana is agreeable.”
“Certainly,” Diana said. “Charlie’s been longing to dance with Petra ever since he arrived. And there’s something I want to discuss with Guy, anyway.” She gave Charlie’s hand to Petra and herself took Guy’s, moving easily into his hold.
“I wonder what Diana wants to talk about with Guy,” Petra said, then dismissed the question. “It’s so lovely to see you back in town, Charlie. Does the arm still pain you?”
“A bit achy now and again,” he confessed. “But not too bad. So, you’re marrying Granville.” He looked at her closely. “Do you love him, Petra?”
“Yes, of course I do,” she returned with a frown. “Why do you ask?”
“Forgive me, I don’t have the right, I know. But I’ve loved you myself for at least two years and, well, he is quite a lot older than you, and he . . .”
“Has a reputation with women,” Petra finished for him. “Yes, I know all about that, Charlie. And, I couldn’t care less about his reputation. I love Guy, and he loves me. It’s as simple as that. Although I can feel the speculation all around me. Do they think I’m marrying him for his money . . . or for his title?”
Charlie didn’t immediately answer and Petra said, “So, as I thought, they’re all wondering why Guy’s bothering with me.”
Charlie didn’t contradict her. “Gossip is never pleasant.” He steered her deftly around a stationary couple before saying hesitantly, “Do your parents approve of the marriage?”
Petra sighed. “Because they’re not here, you mean?”
“Well, it is unusual. People do notice such things.”
“If I didn’t love you as a dear, dear friend, Charlie, I would resent these questions,” she stated. “But to answer you, my father gave his consent very readily, but he managed to injure his ankle, which stopped them from traveling for the moment.”
“I know I shouldn’t be saying any of this,” he replied. “But I wanted you to know that people are asking and speculating and I think you should be prepared. Diana agreed.”
“So you were discussing me with Diana,” Petra said, sounding resigned.
“Only because we both love you.”
“Yes, I know.” Petra looked around the floor for Diana and Guy, wondering if Diana was having a similar conversation with him. She didn’t think Guy would take kindly to such comments. She caught sight of them across the room. Guy was returning Diana to Rupert, but he looked quite unperturbed as he kissed her hand and moved away to talk with a group of men standing by the orchestra dais. So, no troubled waters then, whatever Diana had said.
“Don’t be angry, Petra,” Charlie said. “You look really fierce.”
“Do I? I’m sorry, I’m not in the least angry. Guy had said there would be gossip, it was why he wanted a big party so there were no secrets to fuel it.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’d like some champagne. Let’s go and sit in the window over there.” She gestured to a deep embrasure where two gilt chairs stood invitingly empty.
Charlie readily directed their steps there and Petra sat down, resisting the urge to fall back and stretch her legs out in front of her. Sprawling was frowned upon at a formal ball. She tucked her feet under the chair and fanned herself while Charlie went off for champagne.
Petra’s vaguely wandering gaze suddenly focused sharply as a couple entered the ballroom. Clothilde Delmont and her escort, a man Petra didn’t recognize, were late arrivals and paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Clothilde was a figure of elegant perfection, her thick dark hair carefully dressed in an elaborate pompadour, the scarlet silk folds of her gown sweeping into a train at the back, revealing at the front dainty ankles in dazzling silver satin high-heeled shoes, which together with the towering coiffure made her tall enough to dwarf Petra.
Her eye fell on Petra and with a word to her escort she moved toward the window, her fan dangling from her wrist, the silver plumes in her hair waving with every gliding step.
“Miss Rutherford, my congratulations,” she said. “However did you manage it?” She sat down in the chair beside Petra, her eyes bright with malice taking in the other woman’s appearance.
“Manage what, Lady Delmont?” Petra asked, smiling blandly.
“Oh, I think you know,” Clothilde said, looking over the dancing couples on the dance floor. “I trust you won’t regret it, my dear. Guy is not husband material. I doubt you’ll keep him at your apron strings for many months.” She flicked open her fan, turning to regard Petra with a derisive smile. “Do you have some hold over him, I wonder? As he said himself, you have so little to recommend you.”
For a moment Petra thought she would lose her carefully constructed composure. Surely Guy had never discussed her with this woman? He would never be so disloyal. No, Clothilde was trying to stir up trouble and she would not allow her to think for one minute that she’d succeeded.
“Oh, I think you’ll find I have hidden depths, Lady Delmont,” she said, her eyes glittering with anger. She rose from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me.” She walked away just as Charlie pushed through a group of dancers with two glasses of champagne. “Thank you,” she said, taking one from him without ceremony and drinking it down and handing him back the empty glass. “Oh, that’s better. That dreadful woman makes me so angry.”
“Who? Lady Delmont?” Charlie took the glass, turning to follow Petra’s gaze. “I don’t know her at all. She moves in very different circles.”
“Yes, Guy’s circles,” Petra declared, then immediately regretted the indiscretion. She didn’t want anyone to think she was jealous of the vicomtesse.
“Yes, I had heard that.” Charlie looked at her in some consternation. “What did she say to upset you?”
“Nothing really.” Petra glanced over her shoulder to where Clothilde still sat, and her gaze sharpened. Guy was striding across the dance floor toward the vicomtesse and his expression was far from pleasant. Clothilde, languidly fanning herself, smiled at him, a seductive smile that made the watching Petra’s stomach lurch. She couldn’t hear what was said, but stared at the couple with naked fascination.
Clothilde plied her fan in a way that left only her eyes visible as she gazed at Guy, who stood over her as he spoke. His back was to the ballroom but there was something almost menacing about the way he held himself, nothing about his stance could be interpreted as casual and friendly. After a few minutes, he turned and walked off, making his way straight to where Petra still stood with Charlie.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hand to Petra. “Let’s dance.”
She put her hand in his, his expression was still grim and closed, and she decided to keep quiet until he spoke first. As they moved among the dancers, he asked, “What did Lady Delmont say to you?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Petra responded casually. “I don’t really remember.”
“Don’t lie to me, Petra.” His voice was clipped.
She looked up at him indignantly. “I’m not lying. I just don’t think anything she said was worth repeating. And just because you’re annoyed about something, there’s no reason to take it out on me.”
He said nothing for a moment, then a reluctant smile touched his lips
. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I do want to know if she said anything to upset you.”
“I’m not in the least upset,” she averred, then couldn’t help herself, “Why did you invite her?”
“For the same reason we’re having this very public engagement celebration.”
“Oh.” Petra absorbed the implication, then said, “So you wanted to neutralize her, is that what you mean?”
“Exactly. I don’t intend that my somewhat checkered past should cause you any hurt.”
“Were you in love with the vicomtesse?”
“No. I’ve only ever loved one woman and I’m dancing with her right now.” He drew her closer, turning them in the dance.
Petra rested her head for a second against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath the white waistcoat. “Good,” she said. She raised her head and looked around. There was no sign of Clothilde Delmont or her escort. “Do you think she’s left?”
“I neither know nor care,” Guy responded. “Put her out of your mind, sweetheart. She’s nothing to you.”
Petra was more than happy to do as he said, and when Guy relinquished her to Rupert she threw herself energetically into the Gay Gordons reel and then set out to do her hostess duty and dance once with every male guest. It was after three o’clock in the morning when the last guests had left.
“Oh, how my feet hurt,” Petra declared, flinging herself into a chair and kicking off her shoes. “But it was a good party.”
“It was,” Guy agreed, handing Jonathan a goblet of cognac. “One for the road.”
“My thanks.” Joth took it eagerly and drank deeply. “That’s better. Well, you’re well and truly engaged now, my dear.”
“So it would seem,” Petra replied, yawning. “I can hardly keep awake. I wish I could somehow magically close my eyes and find myself in bed.”
“That can be arranged.” Guy set aside his brandy goblet. He bent over her, lifting her easily into his arms. “We’ll bid you good night, Jonathan.”
“Oh, yes, right,” Joth said. “I’m going home alone, I take it.”
“Good night, Joth.” Petra blew him a kiss from her position curled against Guy’s chest.
“’Night,” he responded, and refilled his glass.
Guy strode across the hall and mounted the stairs, unhampered by his burden. “Don’t go to sleep just yet,” he said, shifting her in his hold so that he could open his bedroom door. “I haven’t finished my evening yet.” He set her down on the bed in the softly lit room and stood looking down at her. “I promise you won’t have to do anything.”
She smiled sleepily. “I don’t think I could.”
“Well, let’s get these clothes off you.” He went to work with deft efficiency, lifting and turning her as he needed. At the last he peeled down her silk stockings and eased them over her feet before sitting on the side of the bed and lifting her feet onto his lap, massaging them with knowing fingers that brought a blissful groan from Petra.
“Try to keep your eyes open,” he said, setting her feet on the bed again and standing up. She turned her head indolently, watching with wide-open eyes as he undressed rapidly, casting his clothes over a chair.
“How could I close my eyes with such a delicious feast in front of me,” she murmured, opening her arms in seductive invitation.
“Lie still now.” He leaned over and flipped her onto her stomach, kneeling astride her. His hands moved skillfully over her back and shoulders, kneading and stroking until her skin tingled and a deep relaxation seemed to press her deeper into the mattress. As his fingers moved down over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, pressing into the tightness of her tired muscles, she groaned into the pillow. It seemed he left not an inch of her back untouched before she found herself lying on her back again, looking dreamily up at him as he continued to work over her arms, her belly, her thighs.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked as her body seemed to float, her skin warm and alive, despite the deep relaxation.
“Macedonia,” he answered with a chuckle. “No more questions.” He moved back, lifting her legs, resting them on his shoulders as he slipped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her on the shelf of his palms, his penis sliding easily within her, pressing deeply within her, filling her it seemed until she could take no more of him. He moved lazily, his hands resting on his hips as he knelt above her, bringing her with almost agonizing slowness to the brink of climax. Petra could sense the moment when the intense flood of sensation would overwhelm her and she would topple into glorious molten oblivion, but it didn’t come. Guy held them both on the brink, moving occasionally, allowing her to feel him pulse within her, then holding still. His eyes were on her face, her half-closed eyes, her parted lips as the moments seemed to lengthen into forever.
And then he touched the exquisitely sensitized nub of her sex and the shock sent orgasmic waves crashing over her so that for a moment she lost all sense of herself, of her surroundings, only the deep throbbing inside her body, the liquid melting of fiber and sinew.
Guy let her legs fall to the bed and leaned over her, drawing her against him, kissing her, his tongue deep within her mouth as his penis slowly slid from her body. She clung to his neck, wanting to stay a part of him, her body cleaving to his, until finally he released her, laid her back on the bed, where she lay stone still, unable to move a muscle, her eyes closed, her breathing swift.
“I think I died,” she managed to say after a few minutes.
“La petite mort,” he said, speaking with some difficulty himself as he stretched out on the bed beside her. “A rare and beautiful thing.” His hand rested on her belly and he drew a deep, steadying breath.
Petra rolled onto her side, kissing the damp hollow of his shoulder. “Can we sleep now?”
For answer Guy sat up, lifting her against him, putting her underneath the covers, maneuvering himself beside her, pulling the sheets up over them. “There. Sleep well, sweetheart.”
But Petra was already asleep, her rich chestnut hair spread over the pillow, her cheek pillowed on her hand. Guy smiled and wondered for a moment how, given his less than virtuous existence, he had managed to please the gods sufficiently to bring this entrancing woman into his life.
Chapter Sixteen
“You look so beautiful, Petra,” Fenella declared, stepping back to examine her friend’s appearance.
“A perfect bride,” Diana agreed. “That simple style is exactly right for you.” She smoothed a fold in the narrow white velvet skirt of the high-necked, long-sleeved gown that clung closely to Petra’s shape, emphasizing her slim waist and softly rounded bosom.
“Sit down, dearest, and I’ll adjust the veil.” Fenella shook out the filmy white lace. “Where’s that silver fillet to fasten it?”
“You won’t be needing that,” a voice said from the doorway.
“Guy, what on earth are you doing in here?” Diana exclaimed. “Don’t you know it’s unlucky to see the bride before the ceremony?”
“Superstitious nonsense.” Guy closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room. “That is a most enticing gown, my sweet.” He bent and kissed her nape, sending goose bumps down her back.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Petra protested but without much conviction.
“I had to bring you these.” Guy set a velvet box on the dresser and opened it to reveal the rubies nestling within. He took out a silver fillet, thickly studded with deep red stones. “This will hold the veil.”
Fenella took it from him, marveling at the richness of the gems. “This is so beautiful, Guy.” Reverently she positioned the circlet on top of the white lace veil that reached to Petra’s shoulders. “Stunning against the white,” she murmured.
Guy took a pair of ruby earrings from the box and gave them to Petra, who was sitting in something of a daze on the dresser stool. She screwed them into her earlobes and then moved her head, watching the light catch the brilliant red drops.
“And now
this.” He took a collar of rubies and fastened it around her neck, where it glowed against the white velvet of her gown. “Give me your right wrist.”
She did so without speaking and he fastened a circlet of silver and rubies around it. “Stand up and let’s see the whole effect,” Guy said.
Petra rose slowly, walking to the long mirror and examining herself in the same stunned silence. “I must be worth a king’s ransom,” she said finally.
Guy laughed. “Not an exaggeration, but they look wonderful on you.”
“Oh, my goodness, what are you doing in here, Lord Ashton?” Lady Cecilia’s shocked voice interrupted them. “You mustn’t be in here, really you mustn’t.”
Guy turned toward the lady, with an apologetic smile. “I’m breaking any number of taboos, Lady Rutherford, I do apologize. But I wanted Petra to wear the Granville rubies and I didn’t want to bring them until this morning. I’ll make myself scarce now.” With another bow and a charming smile, he kissed his future mother-in-law’s hand and left the room.
“Good heavens,” Cecilia said, with a flutter of her hands. “How remarkable. The groom really should not see the bride before the ceremony. How could you have allowed him to come in, Petra?”
“I didn’t exactly,” Petra said with a rueful smile. “When you get to know Guy better, Ma, you’ll understand that one does not allow or disallow him to do anything. He’s something of a force of nature. But don’t worry. I’m sure nothing bad will come of it.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “How do I look?”
Her mother stood back and examined her daughter. “Quite beautiful,” she said. “Those stones are glorious. I wouldn’t have thought rubies would suit you with your hair, but they do, most certainly they do.” She nodded. “It’s nearly time to go to the church. Your father’s waiting for you downstairs. Oh, dear, everything’s happening so quickly. Diana and Fenella, you’ll come in the carriage with me and Jonathan. I imagine your husbands are already at the church.”