A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)

by Alicia Quigley

  "You will do nothing of the sort." Alaric swung around in surprise at the decisive note in Rowena’s voice. "Issuing ultimatums to Lady Bingham will do nothing except please her. I believe she is attempting to attract your attention through her foolish ploys. We must handle this in a more subtle manner."

  "Marguerite is not attempting to attract my attention. She is trying to annoy me. And she is succeeding. I will not have her upsetting you and I plan to make that very clear to her." Alaric’s voice was firm. "You will not involve yourself in this."

  "I am already involved in it. If you will recall, I make up half of this marriage, and I will not allow you to take all this on yourself. We can manage her mischief making quite easily by appearing at the ball this evening and making it plain that we are very happy with one another. That is all that is necessary. To go to Lady Bingham is to play into her hands."

  Alaric approached her, a black look on his face. Rowena stared back at him, uncowed.

  "I have no intention of putting myself on display for the ton. This solution of yours will only cause more speculation and gossip. I will not have my marriage become a topic for gossip."

  "Then you shouldn’t have married," Rowena flung at him. "Everything you do is discussed. You made sure of that with your scandalous reputation as a collector of art and women. Did you really expect that your marriage would be of no interest to the world? It is far better that we present a united front and allow everyone to see that the talk is mere speculation and malice."

  "I believe I am somewhat more experienced in the ways of the world than you are, Rowena. You will permit me to handle this as I think best." Alaric watched as she turned her back on him and hunched an angry shoulder.

  "I will go to the Burlington ball tonight whether you accompany me or not, my lord," she warned him. "I believe it is important that Society sees I am not hiding miserably in this house."

  "You will do as you see fit, ma’am. As will I. However, I warn you that you had best not try my patience too far. I will not have a wife who tries to bend me to her will."

  "I am not trying to bend you," snapped Rowena. "I am merely trying to show you that uttering threats is not the best way to handle delicate social situations. Surely the matter of Alfred Ingram should have demonstrated that to you."

  Alaric’s entire body stiffened. "I have no desire to discuss the death of Ingram with you. I believed that topic was closed. And now, if you will excuse me, I will attend to this latest disaster. Believe me, you will not be bothered again by Lady Bingham’s malice."

  He stormed out of the library, calling for his hat. Rowena sagged against the desk, distraught. Why did Alaric refuse to compromise in any way? Attempting to silence Marguerite was like attempting to prevent rain from falling. The only way to stop the gossip was to prove it untrue. If she and Alaric made their happiness apparent, Marguerite would look spiteful and malicious, and she would be ignored.

  Rowena walked slowly to the window and pressed her nose against it, watching as Alaric strode out of the house and down the street. He was surely going to Marguerite’s house, she thought. And Marguerite would doubtless arrange that he would be seen entering and exiting her home. Rowena had not told Alaric that among the stories circulating was one that Marguerite was once again his mistress. With a tiny pang she wondered if perhaps he still wanted Marguerite. She had often been told that the line between hate and love was a fine one. Perhaps Alaric still desired his former mistress and cared for her more than he would admit. He certainly reacted strongly whenever she was mentioned.

  It was no help that Rowena was not at all sure of Alaric’s feelings towards her. Despite her husband’s splendid lovemaking over the weeks since their marriage, and the lavish praise he had for her beauty and passionate nature, not a word of his emotions had escaped him, even in their most intimate moments. Rowena wondered miserably if they ever would. Perhaps he truly had married her only because she was a suitable wife and mother for his children. Maybe he looked to other women for excitement and emotional fulfillment. And now he was going to Lady Bingham, who would surely use the visit to her advantage. She gave a tiny sob of frustration.

  Chapter 23

  Later that night Rowena entered the Burlington ballroom, her head held proudly, her shoulders very straight. She was immediately aware of the sudden murmur of voices as her presence was noted and the many speculative eyes that swung towards her. She wished that Alaric were at her side. He had not returned home for dinner, and had sent no message. For all she knew he was still with Marguerite, a thought which brought any number of uncomfortable pictures to her mind’s eye.

  Rowena’s pride had refused to allow her to stay at home and mope. She had told Alaric she would attend this ball, and she had kept her word. She had dressed carefully in a gown of heavy pale gold silk, a shade darker than her hair. Its deep décolletage, and sophisticated cut that clung to her lower body, along with its rich color, showed she had was no longer an ingénue, but rather a dashing young matron. The heavy gold embroidery at the hem suggested to her the settings of Mary of Scotland’ rubies, so in a moment of bravado, she had taken them from their case and arrayed herself in them. They glowed now against her skin, their weight reminding her of both Alaric’s generosity and his infuriating need to control her.

  Rowena greeted her openly curious hostess, allowed her to admire the fabulous rubies, and then followed Lady Belmont into the crowded ballroom. Hundreds of ladies and gentlemen, all dressed in the very height of fashion, glittering with jewels, moved about. With very little effort she could hear her name passing through the room, and gave a little shudder to think what might be being said. Her presence, without her husband, was certain to cause even more speculation.

  "Smile, Rowena." Her aunt turned towards her with a worried look. "All the world will think Brayleigh has been beating you if you look so tragic."

  Rowena started and pasted a smile on her face. She soon found herself surrounded by many of her former admirers, intent on telling her of their disappointment at her marriage.

  "It is altogether too bad of Brayleigh to steal you away from us," observed Mr. Windermere. "I had half a mind to call the fellow out when I heard the news. I was heart-broken, positively heart-broken."

  Rowena laughed at his lugubrious expression. Mr. Windermere, she was convinced, had never for an instant been in danger of losing his heart to her, or perhaps, any other woman. But his words cheered her and reminded her that, no matter how Alaric felt about her, she was not without admirers.

  "Indeed, we have missed you of late. It is a pity that you are married now, and we can no longer court you. Or perhaps we can. I do not see Brayleigh with you tonight."

  Rowena’s eyes widened at the words, and she turned to see that they had been uttered by Lord Voxley who had joined the small circle of gentlemen clustered about her. She longed to give him a sharp set-down, but decided that gentle words would probably be better.

  "You are all aware that Brayleigh is not one to come to many such entertainments," she said brightly. "I have missed them myself, but this is the first night he has agreed to do without my company. We are so recently wed."

  "I believe Brayleigh has been seen away from home since your marriage," answered Lord Voxley meaningfully. "We are all glad to see that you have decided to spread your wings as well, Lady Brayleigh."

  Rowena flushed with anger at his insinuation, and was relieved when a bright voice cut in. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to dance with my cousin’s lovely bride."

  Rowena looked at Charles Montfort with an expression of gratitude and eagerly took his arm. He led her out onto the floor and swept her into the dance.

  "I can’t abide that Voxley fellow myself," he said casually. "No manners at all. I can’t imagine why he’s tolerated."

  "Thank you for rescuing me from him." Rowena reflected for a moment that being rescued from Voxley had happened to her far too frequently of late.

  Charles frowned.
"Alaric should have done the rescuing. Or rather, he should have kept Voxley away from you in the first place. Where the devil is he?"

  Rowena gazed over his shoulder at the swirling dancers. "He had other matters to attend to."

  Charles snorted. "I can’t imagine what better business he would have then escorting his wife. Especially with the ridiculous gossip the Bingham woman is spreading."

  "Alaric feels he must deal with that in his own way," said Rowena softly.

  Charles gave her a shrewd glance. "Gone off to beard the lioness in her den, has he? Alaric, for all his reputation for coldness, can be a hothead at times. The man has a dreadful temper. Makes him do terrible things. Why I remember back when Arlingby--"

  Charles stopped with a start, seeming to suddenly realize to whom he was speaking. A comical look of dismay crossed his face. "Pardon me, ma’am. Shouldn’t have said anything."

  Rowena watched him avidly, her curiosity at once aroused. "Do you remember much about what happened twelve years ago?"

  Charles swallowed. "Nothing at all, I assure you," he said hastily. "I have a shocking memory. Alaric is always berating me for it."

  "You are a coward, Mr. Montfort," said Rowena spiritedly.

  "Anything you wish, ma’am. Just don’t tell your husband I was talking to you like this. I wish to keep my head on my shoulders!" Charles rolled his eyes in feigned fear.

  His actions were so ludicrous that Rowena had to laugh. "Is everyone so frightened of Alaric?"

  "Terrified, I give you my word," Charles teased. "You are held in a considerable amount of awe for having the courage to marry him."

  "Nonsense. Brayleigh is simply too indulged. All that is necessary is for one to stand up to him, and he takes it in perfectly good part." Rowena wondered if her words were false bravado. She had stood up to him that afternoon, and the result was that she had to turn to her aunt for an escort that evening.

  Charles eyed her warily. "Remind me not to argue with you, ma’am. I am sure you would tear me to shreds. Anyone with the stamina to stand up to Alaric’s stubbornness must be a formidable opponent."

  A lonely one as well, thought Rowena. She shook her head. It was better to remain angry with Alaric than to begin feeling sorry for herself. "He would be far easier to live with if he had not been so frightfully indulged in the past. You and his other friends have allowed him to ride roughshod over you. You must stop immediately."

  "I will consider it, ma’am, but you must not expect too much from me. I am a weakling when it comes to Alaric. He is altogether too intimidating for me. I have the liveliest respect for you, however, if you have the energy to oppose him."

  The music drew to a close, and Charles bowed to Rowena. "Thank you for a delightful dance, ma’am," he said. "I will try to keep your instructions in mind. Will you allow me to escort you to your aunt?"

  Rowena looked around, hoping to see Alaric’s dark head towering over the crowd. There was no sign of him, however, so with a little nod she permitted Charles to lead her across the ballroom. He kept up a flow of inconsequential chatter, to which, much to Rowena’s relief, he apparently did not expect a response. She smiled and nodded as she walked, her thoughts occupied by what Alaric might be doing. She tried desperately to keep from imagining him in the arms of Lady Bingham or Lily Magdalene, and found that it was difficult to banish the visions from her mind.

  There was a sudden flurry of whispers among the people surrounding Charles and Rowena, and the crowd suddenly parted as if by magic. Rowena tore her thoughts back to the Burlington ballroom to find herself face to face with Marguerite. The baroness wore a gown of sea green that must have been sewn onto her, so tight was the bodice. The diaphanous skirt had been dampened in such a way that it clung quite alarmingly to her thighs, and she wore an accumulation of diamond jewelry which almost dazzled the eyes.

  Charles blanched at the sight and moved to maneuver Rowena away, but Marguerite swiftly stepped in front of them. She held out her hand to Charles and smiled warmly.

  "Charles, my dear. How lovely to see you. I can’t imagine why we haven’t seen more of each other since my return to England."

  Charles shuffled his feet. "Must be a coincidence," he stammered. "No other reason for it." He gave Rowena a frantic glance. "I believe you know Lady Brayleigh?"

  "Yes, indeed," purred Marguerite. "We have met many times. Allow me to once again congratulate you on your marriage."

  "Thank you." Rowena spoke tartly, her temper rising at the sight of Lady Bingham. The woman was impossible, she thought. Couldn’t she content herself with spreading malicious gossip?

  "And where is your husband this evening?" Marguerite continued. She opened her fan and waved it languidly, eying Rowena over the top of it. "Does he not accompany you when you go out?"

  "Brayleigh is not known for his affection for this sort of entertainment," said Rowena. "I thank you for your concern."

  "As you have been married for several weeks now," said Marguerite. "I suppose the time for show is surely over. No one expects the two of you to be forever in each other’s company."

  There was a murmur from the people surrounding them. It occurred to Rowena that Marguerite was playing to the audience.

  Rowena raised an eyebrow, deciding she could not allow the other woman’s attack to go unanswered. "And why do you say that?"

  "We are all aware of Brayleigh’s...preferences," said Marguerite, a smug look on her face. "There is no need for you to dissemble, my dear."

  "Brayleigh may have had preferences in the past, but he didn’t marry any of them." Rowena took care to make sure that her voice carried. "Perhaps you are wrong in your assessment of his desires."

  Marguerite shut her fan with an angry snap. "I think you do not know your husband as well as you imagine. Some of us have been acquainted with him for many years."

  "My dear Lady Bingham, I’m surprised you care to admit that it has been ‘a great many years.’" Rowena produced a delicate sneer. The people nearby tittered, as Marguerite turned a dark red under her powder, searching for a response.

  "You show that you have no idea at all of his true character," Rowena continued airily. "If you did, you would not make such foolish statements. Length of acquaintance, even one as long as your age permits, does not mean you know someone, Lady Bingham. I trust you will keep that in mind."

  Marguerite’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she took a step closer to Rowena. "You are very confident, my lady," she said softly. "But I believe you have much to learn. Length of acquaintance does have its value in knowing how much to trust a person. I hope you do not discover that your trust in your husband is misplaced."

  Rowena ignored Charles, who was tugging anxiously on her arm. "At least my husband can be counted on not to spread unwarranted gossip," she snapped. "Whatever his other faults, he tells the truth."

  Marguerite colored. "You might find the truth disagreeable, Lady Brayleigh."

  "No more disagreeable than I find you," snapped Rowena. She abruptly turned her back on Marguerite and bent a warm smile on Charles. "I think I could use a glass of lemonade."

  "Certainly. Glad to oblige." Charles, with a wary glance at the fuming Marguerite, escorted Rowena hastily out of the knot of people who had drawn about to witness the confrontation. He gave a sigh of relief when they reached the opposite side of the ballroom.

  "I wish Alaric had been here," he said feelingly. "She wouldn’t have dared to cause such a scene if he was."

  "That is exactly what I tried to tell him," responded Rowena. "It is necessary for us to show the world that the stories are empty lies."

  Charles wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "Well, you certainly defended yourself well. I daresay Alaric will have something to say about this when he hears of it."

  Rowena frowned. "Do you think he will be upset?"

  "He’ll be furious," Charles assured her in a heartfelt tone.

  Rowena shrugged. "It is entirely his own fault. He is playing into Lady Bing
ham’s hands. I certainly hope he does not intend to scold me! I will not tolerate it."

  Charles gave her an admiring glance. "Allow me to procure that glass of lemonade for you." He bowed politely and moved away.

  Chapter 24

  Rowena waited, playing idly with her fan and hoping no one would approach her. The confrontation with Lady Bingham had upset her more than she wished to admit, and she had no desire to exchange idle chitchat with the others at the ball. It was now necessary for her to stay and show a good face to the assembled crowd, but she longed only to go home and crawl into bed. Perhaps she should have listened to Alaric. It had been ridiculous to think she could take on the gossip mill without him at her side.

  "Lady Brayleigh?"

  Rowena started and looked up to find Lord Voxley standing in front of her. She stepped sideways a pace, a guarded look on her face.

  "What do you want?" she asked crossly. She was in no mood to bandy words with Lady Bingham’s cicisbeo.

  Lord Voxley bowed politely. "I regret to inform you that your aunt has had an attack. Mrs. Allenton is with her and begged me to fetch you."

  Rowena regarded him suspiciously. She had good reason to distrust anything Lord Voxley might tell her, and this could be another attempt to cause mischief. But if Lady Belmont had witnessed her exchange with Lady Bingham, she might very well have had one of her famous spasms.

  "Why did Mrs. Allenton send you?"

  "I was the only person nearby," answered Lord Voxley promptly. "She has taken your aunt onto the terrace for some fresh air. Mrs. Allenton is concerned that she might need to go home. She begs that you come immediately."

  Rowena paused. "Very well. I will go to her." She moved towards the large French doors leading out into the garden, and stopped abruptly when Lord Voxley walked with her. "I will go alone. I have no need of your escort, sir."