“We did not have the time.” Why bother telling him how much the duke hated to take her anywhere in public?
Her husband remained quiet and Mia’s mind drifted back to her mother’s jewels. Should she try to sell them in London? If she did so, it would have to be soon. The marquess had indicated they were leaving in only a few days. Mia had spent the ten days before her wedding wrapping Gamble around her finger but she was not yet at the point where she felt comfortable trusting him with such a job. Would the footman wonder why she was selling jewels and mention the fact to another servant? How long would it take for such information to make its way to Sayer and next—
“Would you care to go and see your family tomorrow?”
Mia blinked. What was this? More kindness? He’d been so kind today it made her head hurt. She hoped his behavior was not always so erratic.
He cleared his throat and she realized he was waiting for her answer. “My father will have left for Burnewood Park already, my lord. He will stay there a few weeks before removing to Bath. Cian is meeting friends in Scotland and my cousin Rebecca is joining my aunt Elizabeth and her girls in Brighton.”
“Would you care to go to Bath? Or perhaps Brighton?”
Mia had no idea where Bath was located. She knew where Brighton was, but would such a crowded place be a good choice for her needs? “I will be guided by your taste in such matters. Do you generally go to either?”
The entire evening had consisted of stilted talk like the night before—but without the excessive drinking on her husband’s part. What other kind of conversation could a person engage in with eighteen ears attending to every word?
“Bath is not my first choice for entertainment.”
That statement certainly begged a question. “You prefer Brighton?”
They passed under a lamp and she saw his shrug. “I expect there will be a host of matters that require my attention at Exham. It has been some time since I’ve been home. We are not prohibitively far from Brighton if you should desire more lively entertainments.”
Mia found the notion of Brighton depressing. “I collect the society in Brighton is much the same as London?”
“You find such a notion lacking in appeal?” His question exhibited a degree of perception that made Mia nervous.
“I’m sure I will learn to enjoy it in time.” She was not sure of any such thing. The allure of life among the ton had already paled. Years spent among such people was not something she would have looked forward to even if she had planned to remain in England.
“What do you enjoy, my lady?”
Mia shook her head. “I’m afraid I do not know.” The words were too pathetic to be left standing alone. “Merely surviving in the sultan’s harem required most of my attention. I didn’t have time for much else.” She grimaced; that was hardly any better. The silence in the carriage was louder than the sounds from beyond the carriage window. She tried again. “I’m sure I will come to enjoy society more in time. Perhaps it will become more entertaining as I meet more people. It is not very interesting to engage in conversations when one isn’t acquainted with the people under discussion.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I counsel you against expecting your circle of friends to increase anytime soon.”
His words were like a slap. “You think I am not . . .” Mia struggled to find words that would not betray her deep sense of injury at his comment. “You think I cannot earn the friendship of others?”
He leaned forward and took one of her hands, holding it while he smiled with genuine amusement. “My dear wife, you misunderstand. It is not your social skills I doubt. You are married to me, now. You have chosen to become the next victim of the Murdering Marquess.” His pale eyes glinted, all traces of humor gone.
“The Murdering Marquess?” she repeated.
“Oh come,” he mocked. “You cannot tell me you’ve not heard my charming sobriquet? I’ll swear there were plenty wanting to tell you. Your brother, for one.” His lips twisted into an unpleasant smile and Mia snatched her hand away, loath to touch someone who brimmed with such bile. He nodded his head as though she’d spoken out loud, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “If your surprise is genuine, then you may have reason for an annulment.”
“It is you who have given me reason for an annulment, sir.”
He chuckled. “Touché, my lady.”
Mia’s heart beat like a hummingbird’s, but she forced herself to hold his eyes. She would tolerate many things, but criticism of her family was not one of them. “I have not heard the name before and you do a great disservice to my brother if you believe he would repeat such scurrilous nonsense. It is true he did not wish me to marry you, but not for the reasons you may think.”
“Oh? What were those?” he asked in a bored voice, staring out the window.
“My brother did not believe I should be forced into a loveless marriage merely to please my father.”
“Mmm.” The sound dripped cynicism and made her recall the gulf of empty space that surrounded him the few times she’d seen him in public. Nobody could be untouched by so much rejection. He was not immune, no matter how cold he appeared.
“Whatever my brother believed before we were wed hardly matters now, my lord. We are family and Cian is now your brother. I will not tolerate the speaking of such stupid nicknames by anyone, even you. When you disparage yourself, you disparage me.”
The carriage stopped, but the marquess made no move to get out when the door opened.
Mia’s heart became heavy in her chest and she suddenly felt tired. She had insulted him by speaking so harshly. It was the same as it had always been. She was opening her mouth to make the inevitable apology when he leaned forward and adjusted her gauzy shawl around her shoulders.
His hooded eyes flickered with something she couldn’t read, but his lips twitched into a smile. He stepped out of the carriage and handed her down the steps.
Mia couldn’t suppress the flare of triumph that surged in her breast. For just a moment there’d been a small crack in the high walls that surrounded him. It had sealed up quickly, but she’d seen something behind it before the gap closed and it had looked suspiciously like affection.
* * *
Adam did not have high expectations for the evening, at least not when it came to the quality of the entertainment.
The box he’d acquired belonged to Lord Jeffries, a member at one of the gaming clubs Adam frequented, one of the few card players who actually offered him a challenge. Jeffries was departing London the next day and had been pleased to offer Adam the use of the private box.
Adam had run into Danforth at White’s and, on an impulse, invited him and his two lively sisters to join them. Like their brother, the women were of an open and pleasant disposition. They would not find the prospect of socializing with Adam or his wife beneath them.
Danforth had approached Adam one evening several years ago, after a late night at the tables. His open friendship and gregarious nature had gradually chipped away at Adam’s reserve and before he knew it, the younger man had become a friend. The viscount’s sisters soon completed Adam’s very small circle. The two women had refused to be deterred by Adam’s signature off-putting stare since the first night they’d met. They accepted him without question, as if their brother’s approval was enough for them, and treated Adam like another brother, to be bullied and cossetted in equal amounts.
Danforth and his sisters were already in the box when they arrived.
“Thank God you are here, Exley. My sisters are savages and you must save me from them.” Danforth rolled his eyes dramatically at the two thin women sitting across from him.
Livia, the smaller of the women, launched herself at Adam with her usual lack of decorum and caught him in a full embrace.
“Adam, darling, how naughty of you not to invite us to your wedding. I have the perfect wedding hat.” Livia turned to his wife before Adam could open his mouth. “And you must be Lady Exley. My goodness, you a
re so lovely,” Livia exclaimed, releasing Adam to grasp the smaller woman by her upper arms and hold her at a distance while inspecting her.
To Adam’s relief his wife looked amused rather than alarmed at the enthusiastic reception.
“You must call me Livia. We don’t stand on ceremony,” she added, before sweeping the smaller woman into an embrace.
His wife appeared to eagerly return the other woman’s enveloping hug before meeting her friendly look with one of her own. “And you must call me Mia.” Her face was flushed and her voice husky with pleasure.
Livia grinned. “Mia, this is Octavia. We have been most excited to meet you ever since Gaius told us about your betrothal to Adam.”
Mia blinked at the unusual trio of names.
“Indeed, Livia, indeed.” Octavia nodded her head vigorously, her enormous, feathered headdress swaying erratically. “We’ve been longing to meet you ever since we first read of your return to England.”
“We should dearly love to hear the real story about your years away.”
Danforth raised a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. “Livia—”
“But only if you feel comfortable talking about it, of course. We are souls of discretion, are we not, Livia?”
“Indeed we are, Octavia. None more so. Just consider how we kept to ourselves Gaius’s unfortunate tendre for that young opera dancer his first year at Oxford. Can you recall the reams of appalling poetry he generated in her honor?” She laughed, ignoring her brother’s scandalized squawk.
“Yes, especially the one in which he rhymed sighs with thighs.”
Adam shook his head at his friend’s red, agonized face and turned to his wife. “You may as well divulge all you know now, Mia. They will extract your deepest secrets regardless.”
She looked surprised and Adam wondered if the friendly invitation to use her pet name had not extended to him?
Livia smacked him on the arm with the oversize fan she clutched in one chartreuse-gloved hand. “Oh Adam, you would make her afraid of us.”
“You don’t need any help with that,” her brother said sotto voce.
* * *
Mia enjoyed the company even more than she enjoyed the play, which they hardly watched. Viscount Danforth and the two Miss Mantons were magnets for interesting people. Those who crowded the box were not content to merely watch the play, but insisted on interpreting and dissecting it.
Mia laughed until her sides ached at the acerbic observations coming from Livia and the supercilious blond poet who sat beside her. She could see by the number of quizzing glasses turned in their direction that they were drawing attention. Exley, who was seated beside Octavia, threw back his head and laughed more than once during the first half of the play. Gone was the bored, contemptuous sneer he habitually wore. His face, usually a mask of indifference, was relaxed and almost happy. She could not believe it was the same man. He submitted to the relentless teasing of Livia and Octavia with a good humor she never would have thought he possessed.
During the long break between the first and second half of the play even more friends of the Mantons’ flooded into the box, none of them too shy to enjoy the champagne and wine that flowed freely. Mia found herself crowded into the back corner with Livia after they both had glasses.
Livia examined the small baize-covered table that was inexplicably in the corner of the box. “I’d heard Lady Jeffries was partial to cards during all but the arias.”
Mia’s eyebrows shot up. “Cards? During a play?”
“Oh come, my dear. Surely the behavior of our ill-bred pack of associates tonight has shown you one does not come to the theater to watch, but to be watched.” She tapped Mia’s arm with her fan and peered at her through her opera glass in mock demonstration.
Mia laughed.
“Octavia and I were very happy to learn Adam was to be married.” Livia’s expression became more serious. “He is a man desperately in need of a woman’s touch. The right woman, of course.” Her gray eyes became rather piercing as they roamed Mia’s face. Mia was not sure what to say to such an odd statement, but luckily Livia needed no response. “His first wife, Veronica, was a monster, albeit an extremely lovely one. She came out the same year I did.” She took a small sip of wine and gave a bitter laugh. “With Veronica around nobody looked at anyone else. Not that they would have looked at me without her, I assure you. I have never been able to claim more than a decent figure. But there was no one to compare to Veronica. It was most disheartening to see the men throwing themselves at her. This may sound like the benefit of hindsight, my dear, but I could see her for what she was even then.” She shrugged. “But men will be men. Which is to say, they will be tragically stupid when it comes to a pretty face.”
She glanced across the room. “I recall Adam from that time, too, although we were not acquainted back then. I still remember the first time I saw him.” She opened her fan and plied it rapidly, as though the room had heated. “I had never seen such a handsome man in my life.” She tapped Mia with her fan. “But you mustn’t tell Gaius that. Octavia and I have convinced him that he is quite the handsomest man of our acquaintance.
“Adam could have had his pick that Season, but he had to have Veronica.” Livia paused and they both looked across the room at the subject of their conversation. Adam was engaged in what looked like a lively argument with Danforth while two very attractive women watched, clearly rapt at such a display of male beauty. Mia experienced an odd feeling in her stomach as she watched her handsome husband captivate his audience. She turned away and encountered Livia’s shrewd stare. The other woman wore a tiny smile on her expressive face and nodded, as if Mia had just answered a question to her satisfaction.
“There were tales of Veronica’s appalling behavior long before Adam took steps. Most people wondered why he put up with her shocking conduct for as long as he did. She took up with a crowd that could never get enough of anything—spirits, gambling, racing ... sex.”
Mia started at the unusually plain speaking and Livia leaned forward, an odd gleam in her eyes.
“Adam finally caught her with two men, in their own house. He called them out, something that should have meant certain death for both of them. One of the men escaped town, choosing his life over his honor. The younger man met Adam. I am very glad to say Adam showed mercy.” Livia noticed Mia’s puzzled look. “My dear, surely you’re aware your husband is one of the most accomplished blades in the entire country? Has nobody told you?”
Mia recalled something Ramsay had said at their wedding—about her husband’s skills with swords and pistols. She’d been too angry to consider the big privateer’s words at the time.
“He could have easily killed both men, probably even if he’d fought them at the same time.”
“I had no idea.”
Livia gave her a sympathetic look. “You have been back in England only a few months, I think?”
Mia nodded, embarrassed by the other woman’s pity. Even though the marriage was in name only, it did not make her happy to realize just how little she knew about her new husband.
Livia covered Mia’s hand with her own. “You must be wretchedly lonely, my dear. I daresay your father is the reason you married so quickly.” Her clear gray eyes had become hard, and she did not wait for a response. “And Adam, too, for all that he might have meant well marrying you. Men.” She shook her head. The kindness in her eyes caused a sudden lump to form in Mia’s throat.
“My sister and I have faced the obstacles unwed and unwanted women must endure and are determined to help our sisters whenever we can. Only an idiot couldn’t see that you are a stranger in a strange land.” Again she looked at Adam.
Mia followed her gaze. Exley was now the sole audience, rather than entertainer, of one of the women he’d been talking to earlier. The woman was standing too close for polite conversation, her elegantly gloved hand clutching his dark sleeve. She was speaking intently, undeterred by the look of scorching disdain he bent down on h
er, all trace of his earlier good humor gone.
Mia looked at the hand clutching his sleeve and felt the sharp claws of jealousy. Who was this woman taking liberties with her husband right in front of her?
“You care for him.” Livia’s statement slowed the jealous rage building within her but she still could not pull her eyes away from the riveting scene. Adam lifted the woman’s hand from his arm, gently, but with a look that should have left the woman a smoking pile of rubble, and walked away.
The woman reached out a hand, as if she might stop him, but drew it back, her shoulders sinking as she stared after him. She looked around the room to see if anyone had been watching and her eyes met Mia’s. Hatred flared openly on her face before she turned her back and moved to rejoin her friend.
“That woman is Lord Exley’s lover?” Mia’s voice was breathy, as though she’d been running. Where had such a possessive, visceral response come from? And about a man she hardly knew?
Livia sighed and squeezed Mia’s hand. “Not anymore, which I believe is the source of her disagreement with him.” The beautiful blonde was with a group of men, smiling with determined vivacity. “Adam met her at a dinner party at our house about six months ago. Susannah had her eyes on him, probably before she even met him. She is an actress, you know, and she did her best to convince him he could not live without her.” She laughed and patted Mia’s arm. “She is not a very good actress and I could see that he’d tired of her even before he met you.”
Mia knew Livia’s words were meant to soothe but they were slight balm. The woman was tall and voluptuous and Mia’s slim body could not compare favorably. Somehow the knowledge that he’d tired of his mistress could not erase the mental picture that had formed in her head: that of the body she’d seen last night wrapped around the shapely blonde. This woman had made love to her husband; something Mia had not managed to do even though it was his sole reason for marrying her.
“Mia, my dear.” Livia took her hands and held them, drawing Mia’s eyes from the woman across the room. “I have seen how Adam looks at you. He never looked at Susannah St. Martin that way. She is no threat to you, my dear.”
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