With His Ring (Brides of Bath Book 2)

by Cheryl Bolen

  Jefferson tossed his head back and laughed. "Must you sound so maudlin? I assure you there's nothing more than a mild flirtation between Mrs. Blankenship and me. And truth be told, the flirtation has been rather one-sided."

  Glee's heart drummed madly as Blanks tore into Jefferson, twisting the man's silken lapels in his big hands and thrusting his face nose to nose with Jefferson. "Keep your filthy hands off my wife or I'll kill you."

  Terror stricken, Glee watched the two men, one enraged, the other frightened. Then her eyes darted to the others who shared the chamber. They could not have heard Blanks's threats, but they could bear witness to his angry grip on Jefferson. And scandal was the last thing Blanks needed. Not with Jonathan fishing for any sign that his brother's marriage was in jeopardy. "Blanks, please," she said with trembling voice, "others will see you."

  Blanks let go of Jefferson's coat and whirled at Glee. "You should have considered that before your met your lover in broad daylight in a phaeton that everyone in Bath recognizes as Mrs. Blankenship's."

  Glee shifted her gaze from Blanks to Jefferson and spoke firmly. "Do as my husband says and leave us alone."

  His eyes wide with fear, Jefferson nodded, spun on his heel and left the Assembly Rooms altogether.

  "He's not only a dishonorable lout, he's also a coward," Blanks said. Blanks curled his hand around Glee's arm until she winced with pain.

  "Please, Blanks, don't make a scene. You've got to remember Jonathan."

  "You certainly didn't," he said in guttural voice.

  "I can't deny that I acted with complete impropriety, but you must believe there's nothing between Jefferson and me. You cannot know how much I loathe the man."

  The pain on Blanks's face startled her when he spoke. "You told me you'd not have an affair."

  "You'll have to take my word for it, Blanks. I have not had an affair—and I never will." Her voice softened. "Hurting you is the last thing I'd ever want to do."

  "I think we'd best leave," he said angrily.

  "But we can't. People will talk. The best thing to do is to stay at the assembly and convince everyone of how happy we are. We can't afford for anyone to suspect there's disharmony in our marriage."

  "But there is a great deal of disharmony."

  How those words hurt her! Especially when a harmonious marriage was what she desired most in the world. "That's for only you and me to know. To others, we must appear deliriously happy."

  "You expect me to look happy when I saw my wife kiss another man? When I've threatened to kill that man?"

  "Just for a little while, Blanks," she pleaded. "We must dance one set together, then we'll go home. You've drunk too much, and I need to put you to bed."

  He twisted her arm even harder. "I had good reason to drink."

  Yes, he did. He had seen her kiss Jefferson. Glee wanted to tell him the circumstances that led her to bestow the kiss on the loathsome man, but she could not bear to hurt Blanks by allowing him to think she valued his earrings so little she could wager them in a card game. Better for him to think her merely careless in her choice of friends. "I cannot disagree with you, but please, come dance with me. Just one set."

  He nodded.

  As they were leaving The Octagon, Glee saw Felicity swiftly pass through its other side to the Bennett Street exit.

  When Glee and Blanks re-entered the ballroom, Appleton came rushing up to them. "Something quite dreadful's happened," he said.

  Glee arched a brow. "What, pray tell?"

  "I gave the note to a servant and asked him to deliver it to the lovely blonde in blue. I meant, of course, Miss Aggremont, but the idiot presented it to your sister."

  Glee's eyes widened. "I shall run and tell Felicity about the mix-up in our hoax." She fled the ballroom.

  Appleton, who was now joined by the twins, apprised Gregory of what had transpired.

  "The lot of you are five-and-twenty years of age," Gregory scolded. "When will you stop behaving as if you're just down from Oxford?" Perhaps he should have taken Glee to Sutton Hall. Bringing her to Bath had proven disastrous.

  "I believe the pot's calling the kettle black, old boy," Appleton said. "We ain't the ones three sheets in the wind."

  "I think Pixie's right about you," Elvin said to Blanks, shaking his head. "You, dear Blanks, have become an old stick. Even if you are bosky tonight."

  "I'll thank you to address my wife as Mrs. Blankenship!" Gregory did not at all like the manner in which his friends cavorted with Glee. They were a very bad influence on so young and impressionable a girl.

  His three friends cowered, nodding at him.

  Then Thomas came up to them. "Have any of you fellows seen my wife? I seemed to have lost her."

  "She's meeting Thornton at the Bennett Street entrance," Elvin said.

  Thomas's brows drew together as his puzzled glance shifted to each member of the group.

  "It's all very simple, Moreland," Blanks explained. Then he proceeded to inform Thomas of the childish prank.

  "Who, may I ask, is Thornton?" Thomas demanded.

  "Nobody you'd want to know," Appleton said. "A braggart if ever there was one with nothing whatsoever to make him so highly value his worth."

  Blanks watched Glee and her sister re-enter and cross the ballroom.

  Relief on her face, Glee addressed Appleton. "Mr. Thornton hasn't arrived yet. There's still time to deliver another note to Miss Aggremont."

  "He'll do no such thing!" Gregory snapped.

  Glee shrugged and lifted her unhappy gaze to Appleton.

  "Daresay," Appleton said, "it's far too childish a prank for men of five-and-twenty to commit."

  The orchestra began to play a waltz, and Glee turned a smiling face to her husband. "Shall we dance this set together before we have to leave, dearest? I know how very fatigued you are from your tedious day."

  Despite the fury which still raged within him, he realized Glee was right to put on a good front. In his wrath, he had almost lost sight of the reason why he had married Glee in the first place and the necessity that compelled him to appear happily wed. Silently, with an almost imperceptible nod, he offered her his arm, and they strolled to the dance floor.

  When the orchestra began, he held her stiffly and made no effort to converse with her. A pity he'd had so very much to drink. It caused his steps to falter and him to use Glee to prevent himself from falling flat on his face. His drinking also released his tongue from the inhibitions placed on it by society.

  "I know I promised not to meddle in your affairs, Blanks---"

  "Then don't."

  He felt her tremble beneath his touch. "I don't mean to meddle. I only ask that when you have made plans with me—such as we had for tonight—you send around a note telling me you'll not come. I declare, Blanks, I was half mad with worry, thinking something dreadful had happened to you."

  "Then you would have been a very rich widow, madam. Your brother saw to that in the marriage contracts."

  "I wish you wouldn't call me madam. It sounds so. . .so stern, and I beg you not to try to make it sound as if I married you for your fortune."

  He slowed his step and looked down into her face. "Did you not?"

  She stomped her foot. "I did not! I admit I like the idea of being married to a wealthy man, but that's not the reason I married you. I married you because. . .because I thought we were the best of friends."

  He detected a whimper in her voice. She was about to cry. He needed to get her out of this room before she made a scene. "Come, my dear, it's best that we go home."

  She drew a long breath. "Yes, let's."

  He took her hand and began to wind through the dancers far more erratically than he would have were he sober. Once out of the room he procured her wrap, then they left the building.

  "Bloody hell, it's raining," he muttered. "Stay here. I'll call a hansom."

  "It's not raining very hard. I don't mind getting wet."

  He looked at her slender figure in that abomina
ble red gown with only a thin shawl over her bare bodice. "I do mind. I shouldn't like to be blamed if my wife were to come down with lung fever and die."

  The chit burst out crying. "But you'd be far better off—and much happier—with me dead," she whimpered between sobs.

  He backed her into the brick wall under the portico and, with his arms, pinned her against the front of the building. "Don't talk like that. I shouldn't like it all if you were to die," he said in a gentle voice. "I would lose my dearest, most exasperating friend."

  She raised up on her tiptoes and hugged him. "Oh, Blanks, I feel so terribly wretched that I've made you angry. I promise to be a good wife from now on."

  He pulled away from her embrace. "You can start by not wearing that deuced red dress."

  She giggled. “I promise.”

  He stepped out onto the puddled pavement and signaled for a hansom.

  * * *

  Since Blankenship House was but a few blocks from the Assembly Rooms, they were soon home. And a good thing, Gregory thought. His bed beckoned. He had grown unaccustomed to getting foxed. Since he had decided to marry Glee, his life had tamed considerably. In fact, his friends were right. He was becoming an old stick.

  He slipped when he tried to get out of the carriage and his knee slammed to the street when he fell. The next thing he knew, Glee had leaped into the wet street and stooped to help him up, her skirts soaking up the water that ran through the streets. "Are you hurt?"

  "Of course I'm hurt," he barked.

  With the aid of the hansom driver, Glee helped Blanks to the front door, where he grabbed onto the wall and pulled coins from his pocket, which he then thrust at the driver.

  Glee opened the door, and Hampton came scurrying to meet them. He looked at Gregory, but his expression did not reveal that he found anything out of the ordinary in Gregory's altered behavior.

  "Please help me get Mr. Blankenship up the stairs," Glee said. "He's taken a fall and hurt his knee."

  "I don't need any help," Gregory snapped.

  "Yes you do," Glee said, turning back to Hampton.

  The unfortunate butler did not know who the master was in this situation. He gazed from one to the other.

  Then Gregory stepped forward and grabbed onto the bannister. "I can manage."

  Glee raced up the steps to put her arm around Blanks's waist. "Lean on me," she said. He faced her and began to laugh. "Think you to help me when I'm more than twice your size?"

  She shot him a defiant glance. "I'm stronger than I look." Then she turned back to poor Hampton. "Thank you, Hampton, but Mr. Blankenship and I will be able to manage now."

  When they reached the second floor landing, Blanks said, "I daresay the entire staff will know tomorrow that the master's been in his cups."

  "I daresay you're right," she said, biting her lip as she struggled to walk to his chamber with her arm around him. He was not walking well at all. And his blasted knee hurt like the devil.

  Glee opened the door to his bedchamber, then turned back to assist him into the room that was lit only by the fire in the hearth. He hated to admit that leaning on her slenderness really was of assistance. When he got close to his bed, he collapsed on it.

  "I'll call Stanley," she whispered.

  Gregory snatched her forearm. "But I thought you said you were going to take me home and put me to bed."

  "And so I have."

  He stared at her, at the fire flickering on her face. At her eyelashes that were still wet from the night's rain. At the foolishly absurd picture of her trying to lift him from the muddy street. At her undeniable loveliness. "Are you not going to undress me?" he murmured.

  "That, my dear Blanks, is why I'm going to fetch Stanley."

  His hand trailed down her arm and grasped her hand. "You're not behaving very wifely."

  She sat on the bed beside him and with a gentle hand swept the wet hair off his forehead. "What do you mean?"

  Bloody hell! Did she have no idea how such an intimate gesture would affect a man? Especially a man who'd been without a woman for so long? "Isn't a wife supposed to share her husband's bed?"

  She spoke softly. "It. . .it wasn't part of the bargain, but if that's what you want, I will."

  He ran his fingers through her radiant hair. "That's what I want," he whispered huskily.

  Chapter 21

  Of course, it was the liquor speaking. Blanks didn't really want her. Most likely, he wouldn't even remember this night tomorrow. But she could not let this hungered for blending go unfulfilled. If she could not possess his heart, she would take consolation in his body. She trembled from the sweet anticipation of being physically loved by Blanks. As she lowered her face to his, love surged through her like warm honey.

  That first kiss was soft and gentle, with his arms closing around her, blanketing her in his warmth. The next kiss was far more intimate, more passionate. Their mouths opened hungrily, and she drew in the taste of his brandy flavored tongue. Unaccountably, her breathing grew ragged, and his matched hers, breath for breath.

  This intimacy consumed her, pulsing through her body an intense desire to be utterly possessed by the man she loved with all her heart. Her hands glided over the hard muscles of his powerful back then moved to the front of him, where she slipped her hand into the gap between his shirt buttons. She thrilled to the feel of the hot flesh of his chest and the sound of him groaning with pleasure. Fleeting thoughts of their wedding ceremony flashed through her mind. She and Blanks belonged to one another, body and soul. She shivered with delight. Tonight his god-like body belonged to her. And she belonged to him. Completely.

  "Lay beside me," he crooned huskily into her moistened ear.

  Her breath caught as she raised up, then spread herself like warm butter beside him. His arms came around her, urging her closer, so close that she could feel the drumming of his erratic heartbeat. And could feel his man's swell throbbing against her low in the torso.

  His hands caressed her back, then her hips, sweeping her up into the maddening rhythm that joined them. She could not think clearly. Her thoughts were like shooting stars, soaring through a vastness that knew no boundaries. She would almost channel the thoughts into words when another, brighter star would streak through her endless pleasure-fogged brain. Through the blur of thoughts and powerful emotions shone her need to feel her flesh against his flesh. She began to unfasten his shirt seductively.

  With a single, gentle hand he began to lower the bodice of her gown. She felt the rush of cold air cover her breasts. And heard the sharp intake of her husband's breath. He settled his hands on each side of one breast, handling it as if it were a tender piece of fruit.

  Then she felt his warm mouth close around one nipple, and she thought she would go mad from the spiralling sensations he aroused within her.

  "That wretched dress has to go," he whispered with a groan, trailing his hand down the length of her, leaving a path of tingling flesh.

  As much as she wanted him to take her this very moment, to feel him inside her, she would have to briefly draw away from him. In essence this was their true wedding night. And the red gown was no part of it. She thought of the fine ivory lawn night shift she'd bought in the hopes of one day wearing it for Blanks. She would have to force herself away from him to go to her chamber and make herself ready for this most special of nights.

  With a final hungry kiss, she slipped from the bed. "I'll come right back to you, dearest," she promised.

  He grasped her hand, kissed it and spoke with a thick tongue. "Hurry, love."

  She crossed the soft carpet of his chamber, went through their connecting dressing rooms and came to her own chamber, which was lit only by the fire in the hearth. In the linen press, she found the lawn. Then she shimmied out of her red gown, allowing it to puddle on the floor, then she stripped off her stays and drawers. She stood there naked and unashamed, stunned by her need for Blanks. She slipped the lawn over her head, then went to her dressing table where she reached for a bot
tle of perfume. She dabbed some scent on her neck, glancing in the mirror. Pins still secured her hair. Wanting to feel Blanks's fingers trailing through combed-out hair, she removed all the pins and brushed out her hair before returning to her husband.

  When she entered his chamber she heard heavy breathing. Very heavy, indeed. Like a sleeping man. With dread, she walked to his bed and gazed upon him. He lay on his back, his arms spread to each side of the bed, his white shirt unbuttoned to reveal his bronzed chest glowing with firelight and its dark hair trailing to his waist. Her hungry gaze traveled to the tussled hair on his head, then to his closed eyes. She drew closer. He was sound asleep.

  "Blanks," she whispered as loud as one could whisper.

  Nothing.

  She sat beside him and ran a gentle hand over his brow.

  Nothing.

  "Bloody hell." 'Twas an expression exclusive to males, but it exactly summed up her deep, retching disappointment.

  Tense with her denied desire, Glee returned to her own chamber and drew off the lawn. It would be worn only for Blanks. She bent to scoop her red gown from the floor, then changed her mind and allowed it to stay where it was. She would prefer Patty and the servants to think it had been thrown off in the heat of passion. She dressed herself in a heavier night shift, pulled back her covers and climbed onto the bed.

  At her immediate recollection of lying with Blanks, her eyes moistened. She had woefully lost what might be her only chance to truly be Blanks's wife. In more than name.

  She was consumed with a deep, painful emptiness where she had thought to find fulfillment. Always, she had hoped for this night. She had thought—indeed, longed for—the day to come when she would receive Blanks's seed. . .to bear his child. . . to intertwine their lives so closely they meshed into one.

  And now she had nothing. She began to weep.