by Joan Smith
Her heart soared into the ether. “I will, Charles.” She sighed. “But—”
His lips silenced her, and for a long moment they clung together.
“But are you sure you won’t tire of me, as you tired of Selena and Mrs. Whitby? I daresay the charms of a nag would wear thin very soon,” she warned.
“The nagging will cut two ways, my dear. We shall see who cries craven first. My first nagging has to do with—this,” he said, pushing aside her shawl and touching the bruise on her shoulder. He gazed at it a moment, softly grazing it with warm fingers. “I was appalled when I saw it at dinner—and you didn’t even tell me. There will be no more exploits from me that require you to do battle with Runners and lightskirts.”
“Make that just lightshirts, Charles, if you please. I enjoyed the rest, but that must come to an end. I have already told you I mean to marry for love. I—I do love you very much,” she said shyly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think it’s only the title and your money, though they’re very nice, too, of course.”
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “As well as the handle and money, I solemnly undertake to provide your full conjugal quota of lonely nights and anxiety, but unless you find it in your heart to be jealous of members of Parliament, I must warn you there will be no cause for jealousy.”
She considered it a moment in playful silence. “Two out of three isn’t bad. And now, will you please give me my ring. I have been trying to keep my eyes from wandering to the tray. And tell me whether I have to devise a scheme to be rid of Lady Selena, or have you already taken care of it?”
“I thought it more proper to handle the jilting myself,” he said. He took the velvet box from the tray and opened it. A star sapphire gleamed in a nest of white satin.
She gasped with pleasure. “Oh, Charles! I thought it would be a diamond. They’re so cold they look like a chip of ice. This is lovely.”
He slid it onto her finger. “A star sapphire, to match your eyes. I never did put it in writing, did I? I knew when I saw it at Rundell’s and Bridge’s that it was meant for you.”
She gave him a long, sideways look. “Did you originally buy it for Mrs. Whitby?”
“Diana!” he exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not that bad—to be giving the woman I love a cast-off mistress’s cast-off present! Good God, I was hours searching town for just the right stone. I left work early this afternoon and bought it. I knew when you made me follow Laura that you loved me as I loved you. Despite your tirade, you loved me. I just hadn’t figured out yet how we could manage to overcome a few obstacles. I nearly gave it to you this afternoon when I came home. It was burning a hole in my pocket.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was engaged to Lady Selena at the time.”
“Charles, how did you get out of it?”
“Sharpen your claws, madam wife, and prepare to scratch my eyes out.” He took a deep breath and told his tale. When it was done, she crossed her arms and scowled.
“You wrote to her again after I went to so much trouble to steal her letters? Charles, how could you?”
“I got Markwell’s promise she wouldn’t take them to the newspapers. It was only Groden I wanted to see them. I needed some excuse to make him call off the match, for it was plain as a pikestaff he wouldn’t let Selena do it, and a gentleman is not permitted to act wisely in these affairs. God, it was touch and go. He all but begged me to let on I hadn’t written the letters, though he knew perfectly well I had. Of course he didn’t know when or why. The hell of it is, he didn’t really care that I was visiting my mistress within days of my betrothal. All that mattered was that he could pretend he didn’t know. Once I forced him to acknowledge it, he did the proper thing and rescinded his acceptance of my offer for Selena.”
“He didn’t seem very angry when he left. I had no idea what had happened.”
“Party solidarity. No rift in the ranks, or the demmed Whigs might slip into power.”
“Selena must be in alt.” Diana smiled. “I wonder if Ronald might—”
“Not till we can heap a few honors and some more money on him, I fear. That is why I made him my assistant and let him dally a little with Selena to keep that fire simmering. Groden would never accept a man without a handle to his name, unless he had a fortune. If the romance survives her reading of Waverley, something might come of it eventually. I know Ronald will have two able abettors in Lord and Lady Harrup,” he added, squeezing her fingers.
“Lady Harrup,” she mused, spreading her fingers and smiling fondly at her ring. “We cannot announce the engagement for a while, I suppose. It would look so very odd, coming right on top of your other engagement.”
“Nine days is usually the time span for wonders to cease being wonders. I think a man in my position ought to allow a little longer,” he said unhappily.
“We’ll have a short engagement—just long enough for me to go home and arrange my trousseau. I little thought when Peabody received your letter at the Willows how our visit to London would end.” She sighed happily. “I wonder if she will be happy or take the match in aversion.
“Chuggie will talk her around,” he said, confident of his way with Peabody.
“Make the envelope nice and thick. You have no idea how your reputation soars after she receives one of your bribes. Oh, Charles! We must ask Peabody to come to us after—I mean when we need someone for the nursery! That will be even better than money.”
“Much better than money,” he agreed. Charles gazed into space, visions of a new and different future before him. A future with a growing family, a prospering career, and his enchanting, pixie-eyed wife to keep him from too much propriety.
Copyright © 1987 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.