Julian lifted his glass. “Here is to Teresa’s success.”
“Hear, hear!” Fungy and Sin chorused.
Richard too lifted his glass. “And to her continued success.”
“What shall you do for an encore, Merry?” Sin asked, sipping appreciatively at the excellent wine.
“Why, I need not do anything. She has all the invitations a girl could want. Now I am just going to sit back and relax and let her take over.”
“Do you think she’ll be able to?” Julian asked, sitting forward in his chair.
“I certainly hope so. I can’t say that I’ve exactly enjoyed dragging her around to all of these routs and balls every night,” Richard admitted, his high spirits coming down a step.
“You haven’t? Always enjoyed them before.” Fungy was clearly surprised.
“With Julia, yes, I suppose so. But now…” Richard stopped, feeling a lump forming in his throat.
“Merry, Julia’s been gone for over a year,” Julian said, gently.
“But that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten her.” Richard could not keep the hard edge from his voice.
“No, of course not, but you have Teresa now,” Sin said.
“Yes, and because of her I’ve had to reenter a social world I was living very happily without.” Richard poured himself another drink.
“Just don’t understand that one, Merry. You’ve always been an out and outer,” Fungy said, shaking his head.
Julian agreed. “Fungy is right. Even if it weren’t for Teresa, you still should be social, Merry. You should be attending parties for yourself.”
Richard looked at his friends who all sat around him nodding and agreeing with each other. They just did not understand how much he missed Julia. How vital she had been to him. He could not be himself without her, it didn’t feel right. He just didn’t think it was possible. But his friends didn’t understand and he didn’t know how he could ever explain it to them.
“You have got to live your life not just for Teresa, but for yourself,” Sin repeated in his deep commanding baritone.
Richard sat back in his chair and looked Reath in the eye. “It sounds easy when you say it, Sin, but how am I to do it? I’ve been living alone for a year and I must say, I’ve gotten rather used to it. I’m not as comfortable in society as I was when I was with Julia. I don’t know that I can do it without her.”
“Seen you do it, old man,” Fungy said, filling up Julian’s glass and then his own. “I have seen you being your merry old self at numerous parties.”
“That was not me. It was an act,” Richard admitted.
Sin let out a laugh, “Well, if so, you should be on stage. Do you remember Princess Lieven’s face when you asked her to dance the waltz the night before last?”
Richard, Fungy and Julian all burst out laughing as they remembered the horrified expression that lady had given Richard and the supreme set-down he had also received from her.
“Thought she was going to have apoplexy!” Fungy said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter.
The other men only laughed harder.
“Whatever made you ask her for the waltz?” Julian asked, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.
“I just wanted to see what she would do,” Richard said, and then broke out laughing again. “She still hasn’t spoken to me, but at least she hasn’t given me the cut direct.”
“Well, once again you’re the ape-leader, Merry. Now every young buck wants to try asking the older matrons to dance the waltz,” Sin said.
“The betting book is filled with wagers on who will succeed first and with whom,” Fungy added.
“Oh, no! I honestly didn’t mean to start that. But it was a lark, wasn’t it?” Richard said, as the laughter died down.
Julian took a restorative sip from his drink. “Yes, and not only that, but it was just like your old self, Merry, wasn’t it? You are not going to say that that was an act, are you?”
Richard looked at him, letting the smile fade from his face. “No, it wasn’t. I suppose I have had my moments haven’t I?” He had done it without thinking, just for the fun of it. It had felt good. It had felt right.
“You see, you can still do it. You can be your old self. But for some reason when you realize what you are doing, you stop,” Sin said, coming directly to the point.
“Can’t run and hide every time you begin to have fun, Merry,” Fungy added.
Richard looked around at his friends, “No, but it’s certainly easier that way.”
Unfortunately, Richard realized that his friends were correct. He had to stop running away from life. He had to allow himself to be the Merry Marquis. He had to do it for Teresa and he had to do it for himself.
He sat forward in his chair again. Raising his glass, he proposed a toast, “To the return of the Merry Marquis?”
His three good friends raised their glasses and chorused, “To the Merry Marquis!”
Teresa looked across the tea tray at her husband and tried to stop her giggles.
They were sitting in the drawing room, attempting to practice being in a formal situation, but Teresa just could not keep a straight face. It was a good thing she did not play cards, she thought to herself.
She noticed Richard trying to suppress his own smile as well. “Teresa, you cannot burst out laughing every time you discuss buying a horse. I assure you that, to a gentleman, the purchase of horseflesh is a very serious topic.”
Teresa put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “Yes, Richard, I will try and remember that.”
“Very well. Now, shall we continue?”
“Oh, but Richard, I cannot think of how to continue this conversation. Really, I cannot,” Teresa said, putting down her tea cup and beginning to fiddle with the fringe on the pillow next to her. Despite her giggles, she was becoming truly worried that she would make a complete fool of herself that evening.
She still was unsure of how she had so totally lost her self-consciousness the previous night at the musicale. That she had been able to laugh and talk with so many men and women all at once still amazed her.
Was it merely the compliments on her performance, or was it the topic of conversation? Music was one thing she knew very well and that had been the main thing she’d talked about. And yet, she had also been quite proud of herself for having played so well and having been able to lose herself in her music in front of a large audience. Yes, that was it.
When talking she had been able to hold on to that feeling she had when she lost herself in her music, except it was in conversation and wit she was had forgot herself.
Richard’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Well, if you are truly in need of inspiration, you can perhaps try looking about you. Remember, you will be at a ball. Why don’t you comment on people’s dress or the decorations, as we have done in the past? Such trivialities can carry on a conversation quite well.”
“They can? Well, then that does make things easier. I can do that, I believe,” Teresa said, relaxing slightly and moving the pillow behind her back where it belonged.
“Yes, of course you can, my dear. Don’t worry, you will be fine… as long as the subject of returning soldiers doesn’t come up!”
Teresa answered Richard’s twinkling eyes with a rueful smile of her own. As she did so, she realized how much easier it was to converse with Richard when he was a little distance away. Having him too near seemed to cause her some difficulty with her breathing, and her thoughts to somehow become distracted.
She had been in a great deal of difficulty the other night after they had returned from a soiree. Instead of saying goodnight to her at the bottom of the stairs as he had been doing for the past few weeks, he had followed her up to her room. Teresa had worried that he was going to follow her into her bedchamber itself. Luckily, he had stopped just short of that.
She really had no idea what she would have done if he had wanted to… to… What would he have wanted to do? Exercise his rights as her husband? What
would that entail? The thought sent a rush of warmth through her body.
“Teresa, you are woolgathering again!”
“What? Oh, I am sorry, Richard. I was trying to think of what I might comment upon this evening,” Teresa lied. Lying was becoming easier for her, she realized with chagrin. She was lying to society about the true state of her marriage and, she was beginning to realize, she was lying to herself about her growing feelings for Richard.
She had convinced herself that she was happy with the fact that Richard had not entered her bedroom so far. Yet, in the middle of the night, when she lay awake all alone in her huge bed, she would wonder about what was missing from her marriage. Only then did she admit that the feelings she held for her husband were growing beyond the platonic relationship they had agreed upon.
But that was as far as she would admit, even to herself.
She looked at Richard’s handsome face, which now held a look of affectionate concern.
“Are you worried, Teresa? Don’t be. I have full confidence that you will think of something at the right time.” Richard stood up and put his tea cup back onto the tray. “But I am afraid, my dear, that I must leave you now. I have some work which I must attend to.”
Teresa rose as well. “Thank you, Richard, for taking the time to do this with me.”
Richard turned to her before moving toward the door. “Of course, my dear, it is entirely my pleasure. You will go and amaze your admirers this evening, I have full confidence in you!” And with a flash of his brilliant smile he left the room, leaving Teresa a trifle weak at the knees—at the prospect of having admirers she would need to amaze, she told herself sternly.
Chapter Seventeen
That night at Lady Debenham’s ball, Teresa shone. Just as she had the previous night at Lady Thorpe’s musicale. When surrounded by her admirers, she somehow forgot her fears. She laughed and glittered, was flattered and feted.
The die had been cast very soon after they entered the ballroom.
“Oh, what a lovely gown, Lady Jersey! Such an unusual color, but it suits you admirably!” Teresa’s remark made Richard stiffen and turn to her half in warning. The gown was an unfamiliar shade of brown, a color he did not particularly like on women.
“Do you really like it, Lady Merrick?” Lady Jersey slowly appraised Teresa, causing Richard’s heart to quicken some more. But Lady Jersey clearly saw the honest admiration in Teresa’s face, which brought an answering smile to her own.
“It is a new color called Devonshire brown—after the color of the soil there. See, if you look closely near the light, you can see the reddish highlights,” Lady Jersey continued, taking Teresa’s arm and drawing her under a chandelier. This boded very well for the rest of the evening, Richard thought, with some relief.
Soon after ‘Silence’ had made her rounds, Richard was hearing compliments about Teresa’s sweet and honest nature, as well as about her beauty and talent. The word had spread and ladies and gentlemen alike sought out this new paragon.
Somehow tonight, just as she did at the musicale, Teresa forgot her shyness.
She still had a few moments of awkwardness, but Richard was pleasantly surprised by her new-found ability to forget to be shy and awkward. Every so often as the crowd and conversation thinned, she would look to Richard, clearly hoping for conversational inspiration. If he was nearby, he would take matters in hand and make some witty comment about the cut of a gentleman’s coat or the plethora of flowers that adorned the ball room. Teresa would laugh, regain her confidence, and carry on the thread of the conversation without her admirers noticing the slight lapse.
He was, at these times, amazed that he was able to help her out so easily. Her need of him made it so much easier to be the Merry Marquis that there were times when he barely thought about it at all.
He knew that he too was still having moments of uncertainty like Teresa. It was at those times that he wished more than anything that he could just leave to go home to the solitude of his library. But then he would look over at his wife and feel a rush of delight in seeing her doing so well. If she could do this, then so could he.
His pride in Teresa, however, was tempered by a dull ache around his heart that was somehow more intense when Teresa was at her social best. Richard wondered if it was because the more his wife shone, the more likely it was that she would be able to find a match and free herself from their imposed marriage?
No, that was a ridiculous thought. And yet, he stood amidst the crowded ballroom watching her throw her head back in laughter at the wit of a rather handsome dark-haired young Corinthian—and wondered.
The whole point of their marriage had been for her to maintain her social standing despite being compromised and for him to help her find a man she could love—perhaps even one of the bucks surrounding her at this moment. If so, she could do better.
But that was not the cause of the pain, he assured himself. No, this ache was due to the fact that her ability to converse with ease was growing by leaps and bounds. Soon she would no longer need him to help her.
What shocked him was that his ache had nothing to do with Julia. In fact, he hadn’t thought of her the entire evening. The now familiar stab of guilt slipped between his ribs, adding to the pain that had started at the sight of Teresa with her beaux.
A folded fan rapped him lightly on his shoulder, making him jump. He turned to the pretty blond who was trying to claim his attention. Here was just what he needed to keep his mind from his unpleasant musings.
“Ah, Lady Margaret, how enchanting you look this evening.” He forced a smile on to his face as he brought her hand to his lips.
The young lady was dressed in willow green, bringing out her bright green eyes. Matching green jewels twinkled from her blond hair, which was twisted into a complicated knot on top of her head.
“Why, you are like a wood nymph in that lovely color,” Richard added, approvingly.
Lady Margaret flushed a pretty pink. “You do not think me a bit too green, my lord?”
“Oh no, my lady, no one who knows you would think you are too green,” Richard replied with a twinkle that brought an answering flush to her cheeks.
Without pursuing his double entendre, he continued smoothly, “No, indeed not. You look like a nature sprite. Like a breeze on a summer’s day.”
And she smelled like one too, Richard thought, as he leaned closer to her in his bow. Unfortunately, the smell was more of a field studded with sheep rather than one strewn with flowers, but she was lovely and charming, and Teresa was clearly busy elsewhere.
“Would you honor me with this dance, Lady Margaret?”
She held out her hand for him to take, and Richard led her out into the set that was just being formed. He managed to keep his distance from her through the dance, so as to not have to smell her, but did have to stay close enough to periodically voice witticisms to her to keep her entertained.
Despite his partner’s charms, Richard’s eyes kept straying to find Teresa. She presented an exotic and alluring picture in her new dress, in a shade of rose that accentuated the color in her lips and cheeks. It was cut low, showing an entrancing expanse of white womanly flesh that drew the eye of many a gentleman, much to Richard’s dismay. And she was even more incredibly, ethereally lovely when she was enjoying herself as she was now.
Once again, he realized that his body was betraying him. Over the last few days, it had been increasingly difficult to hide his growing desire for her. The more time he spent with his wife, the more he wanted her to truly be his wife. He knew it could never be so. He had promised her that theirs would be a marriage of convenience. He could not betray that trust.
And yet the other night, he had almost followed her right into her bedroom, only catching himself right at the last minute. Only Teresa’s evident nervousness had alerted him to what he was doing, so that he could stop himself. Looking at her now, glowing and alluring, he wanted her more than ever. But he must not. He could not.
Ev
en as he watched, her Teresa flushed a deep red. He followed her eyes to Lord Byron, who, with his good friend Scrope Davies, had limped over to her group in order to meet the newest sensation of the season. Warning bells immediately went off in Richard’s head, and he quickly made an excuse to Lady Margaret to extract himself from the dance.
Richard had once heard Teresa speak of her contempt for Byron at Lady Cowper’s drawing room. He had warned her then not to speak ill of the famed poet, as many people of the ton worshipped him and she would only harm herself if she voiced her true opinion of him.
Now, hurrying over to her side, with Lady Margaret following disconsolately in his wake, he hoped that he was not too late to avert a disaster.
“Lord Byron, how nice to see you,” Richard said smoothly. “Do you know Lady Margaret?”
Byron bowed to the confused girl on Richard’s arm.
“I had thought to meet the newest marvel, Merrick. Your wife, I believe?” Byron drawled.
“Yes, and she is, indeed, a marvel. May I introduce you?” Richard moved closer to Teresa, whose color had resumed its normal hue.
“Lord Southerner was kind enough introduce us already.” Byron gestured to the large gentleman who was also a frequent attendee of Lady Cowper’s drawing rooms.
“Unfortunately, he also felt it incumbent to relate one of Lady Merrick’s more amusing comments regarding myself. Lady Merrick, am I correct in assuming that you had not actually intended for this to come to my ears?” Lord Byron smiled in a rather unpleasant manner at Teresa.
“Y-y-yes, my lord. I… I mean no, my lord. I had not intended for you to hear it,” Teresa managed to say.
Richard scowled at Southerner. Although the gentleman was quite skilled at argument and could be a staunch ally in Parliament, he was not well known for his use of tact. Turning back to Byron, Richard smiled his broadest smile. “What Southerner does not know, my lord, is how much time my wife spends pouring over your books, reading them and rereading them for the sheer pleasure of your wit and insight. Is that not right, my dear?”
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