by Glenda Diana
Alan shook his head. “Henry didn't have much choice. There weren't many women who wanted the poor chap. Hell, after that carriage accident left him with only one arm, most women cringed from him.” Alan's face turned hot when he apparently realized what he had said.
“I think Garrick and I should be on our way,” Lance announced. “Perhaps we'll meet up with you at one of the clubs.”
“Perhaps,” Blake murmured.
The door opened. Blake wanted to groan when Thorton entered. Why could she not have waited a few minutes more? Did she want to flaunt herself in front of these men? Blake stopped his cruel thoughts. But he couldn't help the overpowering need to keep her sheltered from men like these.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said. “I thought you might have forgotten dinner is waiting.”
Blake stood. “Gentlemen, may I introduce my wife, Thorton. Thorton this is Mr. Wellsbrough, Mr. Garrick, and Mr. Waldom.”
Lance stepped forward and presented her with one of his rarely seen smiles. “I'm afraid it was our fault, Lady Bradley. If we'd known such a lovely woman awaited him, we would have hastened our departure.”
“Nonsense,” Alan stated, moving to Lance's side. “We would have demanded Bradley make the introductions sooner. My, you are lovely.”
Thorton simply smiled.
“Most exquisite,” Neil murmured.
Blake wanted to guard Thorton from their lecherous eyes, but he couldn't blame the men. Had he not similarly reacted when he'd first met her? And now, in her amber silk gown, with her red/gold curls swaying about her, she was even lovelier.
Thorton executed a perfect curtsy and moved to Blake's side, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“She's a gem, Bradley. How did you manage to get so lucky?” Neil asked.
Blake stiffened. “She has been my betrothed for fifteen years.”
Thorton gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “I'm fortunate. Every woman wishes for a personal knight, a man who's handsome, strong, a gentle warrior to protect her. I have received it.”
Thorton did not care for the men standing across from her. The way their eyes widened upon hearing the word ‘handsome’ in reference to Blake made her want to toss them out. Her skin crawled as their gazes ran over her.
“Gentlemen, forgive my rudeness,” she said, turning to give Blake her full attention. “If I don't see you in five minutes, I'll have Griggs escort me to dinner.”
Blake stared up at his wife. Her eyes glowed with tender support. Unconcerned whether it was pretense or real, he took her offering. His heart slammed into his ribs when she caressed his cheek and gave him a sweet kiss. If not for their audience, he would have ravished her.
“Don't keep me waiting,” she whispered against his lips. She ignored the others as she walked to the door. She gave Blake a saucy smile, then her gaze turned cool. “Good evening, gentlemen.” With a lift of her chin, she left the room.
“We should toast your good fortune, Bradley,” Neil stated.
“That settles that,” Lance stated, smiling. “Your wife cannot be compared to poor Henry's.”
“Good God, no,” Alan murmured. “Saying congratulations sounds puny after meeting such a beautiful vision.”
Before Blake could reply, Thorton reentered. She cast an apologetic look at Blake before turning to his guests. “One more thing, gentlemen. I don't know what has passed between you and my husband. It's none of my business. But I must make one thing clear. If your visit, or presence, causes him even mild irritation, I hope this will be the last we see of you. This must sound rude, but I will not apologize. If you carelessly cast off my words, I will be forced to handle this situation in my own way.”
With that, she left the room, leaving three men staring in awe and one man smiling.
“Perhaps, we should withdraw our congratulations,” Neil murmured.
“Not likely,” Lance said. “Mine still holds.”
“Mine, too.” Alan shook his head. “Most fortunate.”
Blake came to his feet. “I don't mean to rush you off, but I must join my wife.”
He went to the door, not caring whether the men thought him impolite. Right now, he had a few things to say to his little spitfire of a wife. First he would let her eat, then he would toss her over his shoulder and carry her to bed. And there he would speak to her in the body language they were getting so adept at using, showing her how much he appreciated her words.
Chapter Ten
It was to be the Bradley's first soirée. Thorton had decided to wear her bishop blue evening gown with the carmine lace flounces, and with matching blue slippers and gloves. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head, leaving only a few feathery curls to frame her face, making her eyes appear much larger.
Blake wore his evening blacks, a snowy white cravat arranged at the top of fashion. Roger looked extraordinary in his new clothing cut in military fashion. And though Thorton had been more than a little piqued, Lucas had declined their offer to attend the party.
“We shall set the ton on their ear tonight, will we not?” Thorton stated proudly as she stood between Blake and Roger.
“You will, Madame,” Blake said, raising her hand to his mouth.
Thorton blushed. “Careful, Baron. You'll turn my head with such sweet words.”
It was becoming familiar, this urge Blake felt when he looked at her. The urge to carry her upstairs where they had just finished a most fulfilling joining. Even though he'd thought himself thoroughly sated, he felt his blood begin to boil anew. Would she forever have this effect on him? Most likely.
Roger coughed. “We don't wish to be late.”
“We don't?” Blake asked, raising a brow. “A great deal depends on why one is late and my reason would be acceptable. Every man in attendance would fully understand.”
Roger shook his finger at Blake. “You're making the gal get red-faced and flustered with your brazen talk. I know your game, boy. You're stalling, hoping we won't go.”
Thorton looked up. “You truly do not wish to attend?”
“This whole thing reminds me of riding onto the battlefield. Well, it has the same effect, anyway.”
“Then we shan't go.” Thorton began stripping off a glove. “A party should be enjoyable and fun, not something a person dreads.”
“See what you've done?” sputtered Roger.
Blake wrapped a cloak around Thorton's shoulders. “My father is right. We will be late if we do not leave now. It will be fine.” He dearly hoped so.
Her eyes briefly misted. He would attend the Hillerman's ball just for her. She placed her hand on Blake's cheek and smiled up at him.
“Come, Madame. Our carriage awaits.”
Blake assisted Thorton into the carriage, then waited until his father took the seat across from her before climbing in. He wanted Thorton to have a wonderful time, but knew what would happen when they arrived. Had he not played this scene before? He hoped Thorton was up for the looks, the whispers, the gasps of shock, and the disgrace. Every incident of his last visit came flooding back. Thorton was about to see how others perceived him. The pain of it threatened to rip him apart. Furiously, he pushed away the memories. He would not let his past ruin tonight.
“Remember everything I have told you. Stay with me,” Blake said. “If something should happen to me, stay close to Roger.”
“What should happen to you?” Thorton asked, obviously worried. “Perhaps, we should postpone our first evening out.”
“Are you doing this on purpose?” Roger asked, glowering at his son. “The chit just starts to relax and you get her all jittery again.”
Blake ignored his father's outburst and took one of Thorton's hands. “Nothing is going to happen. I only meant that, should we get separated, then seek out Roger.”
Thorton sighed as Blake patted her hand. “I'll remember. I won't leave your side for a second. Remember my instructions?”
Blake slid her a smile. “I will do my best to abide them.”
&n
bsp; Roger winked at her. “Don't be getting the gel all worked up with silly nonsense. She'll do fine. She's a Bradley.”
By the time the carriage stopped before the Hillerman's, Blake was certain they should forget the whole thing. He shuddered when he thought of all the handsome men who attended these Social Carnivals. That was exactly how he referred to these functions. It was like being on display in a sideshow, an opportunity for people to gawk, point, and torment those different than themselves. Like him.
Unwanted came the image of the three men who had called on him. It was useless to hope that none of them would be here. Then came the image of Thorton standing by his library door giving her warning. Her words were not a jest, Blake knew, but he had a feeling his one-time friends saw it as such.
Blake waited until Roger exited the carriage before climbing down and helping Thorton out. He jumped slightly in surprise when Thorton tenderly kissed his palm.
“It's not too late,” she whispered. “No one has seen us yet. I can think of several things we could do instead.”
So could he, Blake thought, staring into her beautiful face. It was ridiculous, he knew, but a thought flooded his mind ... was she embarrassed to be seen with the Beast of Stonecrest? “Is that what you want?”
Thorton felt the tension shoot from his body to hers. Still holding his hand, she stepped closer, making sure only he could hear her reply. “Do you truly wish to know what I want? I want to show the ton what us Bradleys are made of.”
It wasn't exactly what Blake had been hoping to hear, but then it wasn't that bad either.
“Baron, have I told you this evening how handsome you are?”
Before Blake could reply, Roger stepped forward. “You have. I heard you. Now, do you plan on enjoying the fête from out here in the yard?”
“Gentlemen, our audience awaits.” Thorton raised her head; her eyes shone with pride. “Shall we go?”
Inside, Blake handed Thorton's cloak to a servant. They stood at the ballroom's entrance, waiting to be announced. Colors swirled from one end of the dance floor to the other. Voices mingled into an unintelligible humming.
“Lord Bradley ... The Baron and Baroness of Stonecrest.”
It seemed as though the entire room came to a standstill. The musicians stopped. People turned. Eyes widened, gasps abounded, and from somewhere came a soft snicker.
Blake's heart dropped.
Thorton squeezed both men's arms and placed a haughty expression on her face. “Let's see how the ton takes to the uppity-nosed Bradley's. They cannot snub us if we snub them first.”
Blake moved at Thorton's gentle urging. He called up every ounce of willpower to ignore the goggling crowd. With each memory, his stony expression hardened more. With each step, he became the Beast. Then he found himself on the empty dance floor staring at his wife and wondering how she had gotten him there.
He glanced around, trying to locate his father. Thorton needed to dance with him, someone the people would not stare at. Blake spotted Roger approaching the orchestra and guessed what the old man was planning.
“I can't do this,” Blake groaned.
Thorton smiled. “Yes, you can.”
“It's been years since I've danced.”
Tension radiated from him, wrapping itself around her. “Then you have one thing on me, for I've never danced in public, and the only one I've ever danced with is Lucas.”
The first notes of a waltz started. Thorton caressed his shoulder as they took their first steps.. Blake focused his attention on her and soon he began to relax. They were the only couple on the floor. All eyes followed their every move as Thornton flirted shamelessly with Blake. The smiles she gave were for him alone. As if they were the only two people in attendance, Blake held her close in a blatant display, played out in erotic rhythm. Their bodies moved in perfect, graceful accord to the music.
“You dance wonderfully, Baron. Any other secrets you're keeping from me?” At Blake's look of astonishment, she laughed.
“Me? Keeping secrets? Never.”
“We dance rather well together.”
Blake softly touched her ear with the tip of his tongue and was more than pleased when she shivered. His arm tightened as he felt her sway. “It's not at all surprising, Thor. Dancing, in many ways, is like making love. One must be able to move with one's partner, to anticipate, to meet each dip, each step, each plunge, smoothly. They must be one.”
The last musical note seemed to drift on a magical breeze. Blake realized he and Thorton were still the main attraction. They had danced the entire dance without so much as another couple stepping onto the floor. He could feel the multitude of stares. He had never been one to act rashly, but there was a first time for everything. Gently, he gathered Thorton to him; his mouth lowered and claimed hers. After a few loud coughs, mumbled exclamations, and outright laughs, Blake ended the kiss. He pulled his stunned wife to his side and exited the floor like royalty.
“You made an old man jealous,” Roger stated when they joined him.
Blake noticed their host making his way toward them. Lord Hillerman wasn't the only one willing to brave the waters. Several young men were edging closer. Blake groaned.
Thorton turned to see what had caused his discomfort. “Behave. Let's see who sets the rules after tonight.” She raised her brow in mock imitation of him.
Lady Martha Hillerman reached them first. She took Blake's hand. “It is a pleasure to welcome you. I am so glad you decided to join us and bring your bride. I should scold you for staying away so long, Blake. But that can wait for another time. I wouldn't want your wife to think badly of me.”
Blake smiled at the elderly woman. He raised her hand and kissed it. “As always, it's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Hillerman. May I present my wife, Thorton Lynwood Bradley.”
“Thorton,” Martha murmured. “It's so nice to finally meet you. I never imagined you to be so beautiful.”
Thorton, deeply touched by the woman's open friendliness, sank into a small curtsy.. Martha Hillerman was lovely in her own right. Her light blonde hair was cut short to frame her face. Her figure was portioned slightly on the large side, yet by no means did she appear fat, just voluptuous. But it was the way Lady Hillerman's eyes shone with warmth when she gazed at Blake that made Thorton immensely like her.
“Lady Hillerman.”
“None of that nonsense, my dear. You are to call me Martha. You know, you don't resemble your father,” she stated with a positive nod. “I believe I mentioned in one of our first letters I knew your father, did I not?”
“Yes,” Thorton whispered.
“I always meant to visit you, dear, just never could get away from...” Her eyes went to her husband. “Town,” she finished, lamely.
“I would have enjoyed your visit. I must invite you to Stonecrest,”
Martha at first seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. “I would be most honored. I could send the traveling troupes to Stonecrest instead of Rosewood. I do know how much you enjoy their winter visits.”
“That won't be necessary.” Thorton glanced at Blake and almost groaned at his obvious irritation. “They may continue spending winters at Rosewood if they wish, but I don't believe the Baron would appreciate their company at Stonecrest.”
Blake wanted to laugh. “Exactly how long have you been known my wife, Martha?”
“This is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting her face-to-face. But we've been corresponding since she was about ten years old.”
“That long?” Blake murmured, studying Thorton.
“You remember Lord Roger Bradley?” Thorton asked quickly.
Martha's round cheeks turned a faint pink as her eyes met Roger's. He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and leisurely lingered over it. A twinkle lit his eyes as he flirted shamefully. Martha did not seem to mind, for she coyly batted her eyes.
“My, you're as lovely as always, Marty,” Roger stated. “I'd forgotten what beauty was until my old eyes landed on y
ou. You're a regular feast for a starving man.”
“Nonsense,” Martha whispered. “'Tis a sin to lie, Roger. How could you forget beauty with this young woman beside you?”
“She's a beauty, all right. But you have beauty that comes only from maturity. And it looks quite good on you.”
“You wouldn't be telling me I'm old, would you?”
“Never, Marty. You've grown more beautiful through the years. I, too, invite you to Stonecrest. Anytime.”
“It would be a ... pleasure to visit you ... all of you.” Martha flushed.
“A pleasure indeed,” Roger said with a devilish smile.
Lord Hillerman was a stout man, barrel-chested, with a protruding stomach, bulbous nose, and thick, fleshy lips. He talked in a boisterous voice as if the world were deaf. His loud cough had gotten not only his wife's attention, but gained him a good-sized audience. Lady Hillerman blushed a deep red; Roger didn't bother to hide his look of disgust.
Thorton tipped her head as she studied Beau Hillerman. It was easy to see the man was witless, for he stood no taller than she, yet tried to look down his wide nose at Blake and Roger. Her gaze returned to Lady Martha, wondering what the woman could've ever seen in such a vile man.
“Bradley,” Hillerman's overloud voice seemed to echo through the ballroom. “I trust you won't mind if I lead your wife in the next waltz. I'll show her how it is at these galas. One must get used to the changing of partners, you know?”
Blake knew damn well Hillerman was not referring to dancing. His growl came low and deadly as he took a step forward. He was going to give Hillerman a poke in that over-large nose, nothing harmful, just a simple break and a lot blood.
Thorton laid her hand on his arm, stopping his advancement. “Thank you, Lord Hillerman,” she said.
Blake looked at her as if he thought she'd lost her mind. Thorton gave him a brazen wink. Before she could note Blake's reaction, she turned to their host. The smell of garlic seemed to flow from the elderly man. Bile rose in her throat. After swallowing several times, she was able to speak.
“As I was saying, Lord Hillerman. Thank you, but I must decline your offer.”