Ravishing in Red

by Madeline Hunter

  After the mail, Audrianna would read the newspapers that had been set out by the servants, starting with the Times advertisements and notices. She had taken up Lizzie’s habit, but for a purpose. The Domino had twice now used such communication, and she hoped that he would again.

  Sebastian was never at those early meals. On the eighth day of her marriage, Lady Wittonbury explained that the two brothers broke their fast together in the marquess’s chambers.

  “Wittonbury needs to instruct him, of course. He only wields my elder son’s power in government, not his own.”

  Audrianna had difficulty imagining Lord Sebastian taking instruction from anyone, or wielding secondhand power. She was about to defend her husband, when the marchioness changed the subject.

  “We must do something about your wardrobe, dear. I have held my tongue about this as long as I can bear it. I will take you to my dressmaker this afternoon.”

  “My wardrobe is new. It would be wasteful to replace it so soon.”

  “You can give it away. It will not be wasted.”

  “Forgive me, Madam. My attempt to dissemble was clumsy. The truth is that I do not want to replace it. There is no need to, and I like it as it is. However, I thank you for your concern for me.” She especially loved the primrose India muslin dress and aurora sarcenet spencer that she wore today, and resented that the criticism appeared to have been provoked by these specific garments.

  A lesser woman would stand down. Lady Wittonbury felt no need to. “My concern is for me, and my son, as much as for you. Some of your dresses are not the best choices in color or style.”

  Her tone remained cajoling even as her words became more pointed. Her face wore the smile one might use when indulging a recalcitrant child who would be forced to obey if reasoning did not work.

  “Every dress was obtained from a top dressmaker, Madam. The styles are from the latest plates, and visible on other ladies of the ton. I did not just ride in from the country on a wagon, and there is nothing inappropriate about my wardrobe. Some dresses might not be to your taste, but that is another matter.”

  “My taste has been celebrated since I was younger than you. Ask anyone. I sought to help you by offering my advice, but I can see that was an error.”

  “You have been a marchioness since you were younger than I am. No one would criticize your taste no matter what they thought.”

  The implication that the praise had been mere flattery astonished Lady Wittonbury. “You are a bold, ungrateful girl, I see.”

  “I must disagree again, Madam. I am not ungrateful, and I am not a girl at all. I am old enough to choose my own wardrobe, for example.”

  Lady Wittonbury’s indignant stare could have frozen an ocean. She rose to her feet with purpose and sailed out of the room.

  Audrianna scolded herself, but her own heart rebelled against accepting blame. She had not insulted Lady Wittonbury. Quite the reverse. She suspected that a story was being told upstairs that would sound as if she had, though. She braced herself for a request from Sebastian for her attendance once his breakfast was done.

  It came soon enough. Her stomach turned at what might be coming. She found him in his bedchamber, gathering some papers. He had dressed for riding and appeared distracted. He barely looked at her as he shuffled through some pages, checking their content.

  “I am told that you had a row with my mother.”

  “We had a disagreement, not a row. I was not disrespectful.”

  “But you refused her wishes, she said. You refused her instruction.”

  “Yes.”

  He shuffled some more, than laid the stack down and gave her his attention. He reached for her and held her at arm’s length. “Is this one of the dresses?”

  So he had received a full description of the episode. She suffered his inspection. If he told her to give this favorite ensemble away, to submit to his mother’s fashion whims, there really might be a row in this house this morning.

  “I am no expert, but this dress and your others appear fine to me,” he said. “She will try to tell you what to do. It is her way. She can be a help in some things, if you want her help. Use your own judgment. Show her the respect she deserves, but I am the only person in this house who can command your obedience.”

  He surprised her so much that she impulsively embraced him. She stretched up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

  His arms enclosed her. He looked down, half-amused and half-serious as sin. Then he released her, and picked up his papers. “I may have to tell my mother to argue with you more often.”

  “I hope not! Why would you do that?”

  “If I want the denouement, it may require the first act.”

  She laughed. “It was only a kiss. You have those whenever you want.”

  He gave an odd little smile and turned his attention back to the papers. “Yes, I suppose I do. Whenever I want.”

  No sooner had Sebastian left the house than the marquess sent for her. She found him in his library, in the same deep chair where she always saw him. He set aside a book upon her arrival.

  “I have been told that there has been a row,” he said.

  Lady Wittonbury must have given a very dramatic report if both brothers felt obliged to speak to her. “It was merely a disagreement, I promise you.”

  “My brother should move you to your own house. He will not do it on my suggestion. However, if you tell him that you are unhappy here, he will reconsider.”

  “If you say that he will not do it, then he will not change his mind, least of all at my request.”

  “I will speak plainly to him on your behalf.”

  “Please do not. I do not want my presence to cause strife, least of all between the two of you.”

  He sighed deeply, and gazed down at the cover on his lap. His head then jolted up, as if he did not like where his thoughts had wandered.

  “He is only here at all because of me. But he has other responsibilities now. Tell him that you prefer your own household if you do.”

  She sat down in the chair right beside him. The one the marchioness normally used. “And what of your preferences? They matter too.”

  His face fell into an impassive mask. “I have learned to accept many things. Foremost among them is that almost everything that I would prefer is no longer possible.”

  His quiet, frank admission touched her. “Must you be accepting? Have you no choice?”

  A spark of anger showed in his eyes. “Should I rave against cruel fate? Be forever angry at my infirmity and uselessness? In that direction lies madness, my dear sister.”

  “You are not useless. That is melancholy speaking. Your brother depends on you for advice in his duties, and guidance in politics and finance.”

  “Did she tell you that?” He leveled his gaze on her. He looked more like his brother than he ever had, and his eyes showed more intelligence and depths than she had ever seen.

  “Yes. Your brother did as well.”

  “Well, here is the truth of it. He needs no advice from me. He is smarter than I am by a measurable sum, and shrewder again by half. He charms while I plod, and he can walk the finest edge of the highest cliff in society without blinking or falling. I do not believe my mother’s long lie about his reliance on me, or his own pretense of the same. I would be grateful if you do not strive to believe it either. It would be nice not to have to pretend, with someone.”

  His stark honesty surprised and flattered her. His lack of pretention disarmed all formalities. She felt much like she did when talking to a friend who offered a secret confidence.

  “He is certainly an admirable man,” she said. “However, he is not infallible as he walks those cliffs. After all, he had to marry me.”

  He smiled to acknowledge her little joke. “Perhaps the invisible hand of justice was at work there. However it happened, I do not think he will regret it.”

  His approval went far to soothing the scorching his mother had given her pride. At least one person in the family
did not think Sebastian had been trapped by someone unsuitable. She warmed even more to this unpretentious man at his reference to justice. It sounded as if he believed her family had been wronged.

  “Even if it is as you say, and he does not require your advice, I will not ask him to leave here. I cannot do that.”

  His relief showed more than he knew. That tugged at her heart. He probably dreaded losing the company of his brother, and those consultations too, even if they were a pretense. He had offered to make a noble sacrifice, but she could tell he was glad she would not accept it.

  He reached over and patted her hand. “He said that you would acquit yourself well with our mother. He said I should not worry about your odds in that game. I think perhaps he is correct.”

  So Sebastian thought her a worthy opponent of his mother, if necessary. One might even say that he had spoken well of her. That lifted her spirits more than she expected.

  She spied a chess set on a far table. “Would you like to rest, or would you prefer company a little longer? I would not mind hiding here, until Lady Wittonbury is thoroughly occupied with her day’s plans. We could have a match.”

  “I would be glad for your company. And you may hide here whenever you need to.”

  “I might turn into a coward if given carte blanche to hide, so I will only accept your offer when I absolutely must. However, if there is another little row, perhaps you will allow me to tell you if I feel I must tell someone. I do not want to be a wife who is always complaining to her husband, and there are times when just speaking of a hurt makes it go away.”

  “I am always here if you need a sympathetic ear.” He called for Dr. Fenwood, to have the chess set moved close to their chairs.

  Sebastian passed through the Tower gate. The meeting he was about to have had been a long time coming.

  When word about that massacre had finally become public, the Board of Ordnance had done what any government entity would do when under attack. It had turned inward for protection, and denied all responsibility.

  The integrity of gunpowder was vital to any war effort, and the Board prided itself on its protocol for ensuring the military’s gunpowder was manufactured correctly and had the necessary firepower. According to them, processes and checks were in place to ensure just such a mishap could not occur. Since it could not happen, it had not happened.

  Sebastian’s conversations with the officials of the Board had never yielded much besides frustration. They took the position that until there was some proof that gunpowder tested by them had been the cause of the problem, they had nothing to say. They dismissed reports gathered from survivors that the British cannon could not return fire, and ignored opinions from gunners and suspicions from the army itself that only bad ordnance would explain that.

  Short of physical evidence, they held themselves untouchable. Since the gunpowder in question was not available for examination, but scattered on a Spanish hill, they were safe.

  On the other hand, they had done nothing to protect Kelmsleigh when attention focused on him since he had given the final approval on the quality of gunpowder prior to its distribution. Their lack of defense only encouraged more attention on this most likely source of negligence. Kelmsleigh’s superiors had left him alone and exposed while arrows aimed at him, instead of them.

  Sebastian had long ago accepted that he would learn nothing at the Board’s offices, and he had not arranged this meeting. Instead the request for a conversation had come from Mr. Singleton, the Storekeeper, who had been Kelmsleigh’s ultimate superior.

  He was directed to a chamber in the old medieval structure. It contained no evidence of regular use. The table was bare and no records could be seen. The soldier who escorted him left him there, and closed the heavy door as he departed. Sebastian imagined prisoners over the centuries hearing that sound upon their incarceration.

  He looked out the small window. He could see the yard where, in ages past, axes had severed heads from bodies. The Tower had served many functions over time, but it was most known for that one.

  He checked his pocket watch. He would not have put Audrianna off so quickly if he had known there would be this delay. Images of the morning came to him, of his mother’s umbrage and tears, and of his wife’s expression when she entered his chambers.

  With one glance he could tell that she was a little afraid. She had been concerned that he would place her under his mother’s dominance, quite likely. She might have been worried that he would scold, or even chastise her physically.

  Oh, yes, that last possibility had been in her eyes, and it disturbed him. For all of the passion, for all of the sensual closeness of the last week, she did not know him well at all.

  Nor was she much aware of what had or had not passed between them. Her happy kiss today had been the very first one she had ever offered him, given of her own impulse. She had not realized that.

  He had.

  He could have no complaints about Audrianna’s willingness or behavior in bed. She did not protest or deny. She did not require modesty. She was passionate and agreeable, and she would most likely continue to be when, with time, there were new initiations.

  However, he wondered sometimes if, after he left her and the pleasure had faded, she got out of bed and sat at her writing table and noted down in an account book just how long he had been there, and how far toward ten hours she had progressed this week.

  It was one thing to have a woman accept you, but under obligation. It was quite another to have a woman offer even the smallest intimacy totally of her own inclination. Audrianna’s little embrace and kiss today had surprised him, and pleased him to a ridiculous extent. The memory of it still did.

  He would have liked to stay with her and not run off. It would have been interesting to see what the next ten minutes might have wrought.

  Now, for all he knew, she might not kiss him again on her own accord for another five years.

  “My apologies, sir. A serious matter of safety interfered with seeing you at once. I hope that you understand that the nature of our stores can create such eventualities.” Mr. Singleton offered the excuse in a rush. His flushed face said he truly hoped Sebastian would not take offense.

  That was a good sign, and Sebastian was happy to reassure him. “I am curious why you requested this meeting at all, Mr. Singleton. I have sought one in vain for almost a year.”

  Singleton’s nod acknowledged the truth of that. “My apologies on that too, sir. I am, as I hope you know, a servant of the state.”

  It was not clear if that was a slip or a warning. In either case, he had all but said that he acted under orders, in this as in all else.

  “I hope the marquess is well, sir.”

  “My brother is fine, thank you.”

  “Please give him my greetings. And your new wife? My sincere felicitations to both of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Splendid.” Singleton gathered his attention and thoughts. “If I may speak frankly, sir, and please believe that I intend no disrespect—”

  “Of course.”

  “Considering your zeal in a certain matter, the identity of your intended caused some interest here.”

  “You mean because of her father. Well, Mr. Singleton, both my bride and I would be the first to agree that fate can be capricious.”

  “Quite so, quite so. Capricious. However—we are wondering if your continued interest in that matter will now be relinquished.”

  It was not clear which answer he wanted, which was curious considering their prior unhelpfulness. “Tell me, Singleton, do you have an opinion on whether it should be relinquished? Do you consider the current assumptions about Horatio Kelmsleigh both a complete explanation, and a just one?”

  A pursing smile tightened Singleton’s face. “We maintain that nothing happened within these walls or under our jurisdiction to give me cause for any opinion.”

  “And yet I sense that you have one.”

  “Privately. Confidentially. I c
an only say that it is my feeling that if you pursue this matter, you will not exonerate your wife’s father, if marital bliss has inclined you to try.”

  They knew something. Of course they did. Ordnance did not move without careful monitoring and records.

  Sebastian took his leave soon after. The peculiarity of Singleton’s confidence occupied his mind while he rode down Tower hill. Singleton had spoken as if the investigation had reached a crossroad, not a wall. Which meant that the Board of Ordnance anticipated new information coming out that would stoke one MP’s interest again.

  Two nights later, while Sebastian dressed for a ball, a gentle rap sounded on the door to Audrianna’s bedchamber. The door opened a crack and her head angled around its edge.

  Her hair was dressed already. Her chestnut locks formed an intricate topknot and delicate spirals that framed her face. Her eyes, forest green in the candlelight, sought him.

  “May I enter? I need your judgment.”

  He set aside his cravat and gestured for his valet to leave. Once he was alone, she stepped into his dressing room.

  His mouth went dry.

  She wore a red gown. More a deep crimson. The hue was actually subdued, and the cut quite modest. But something in the way it fit her, and in how the silk fell along her form, made her appear worldly and confident.

  “Is it a bad choice? I ordered it on the best advice, and I love it, but after that conversation with your mother, I am having second thoughts.”

  His mind wandered, to images of turning her and bending her and that red silk rising, rising . . .

  “You don’t approve.”

  “You are wrong there. You are entrancing in it.”

  She liked the compliment, but began inspecting herself again. “Are you sure it is not vulgar? I fear she will say so. The color is fashionable, but she will want me in white, always white. Like a girl. But I am not a girl, am I?”