by Golden Angel
Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be possible.
Pulling reluctantly away from her, he realized that returning to the Assembly Rooms wasn't going to be possible either. He thought Cynthia looked delightful with her swollen lips, tumbled hair and rumpled gown (which now also had green stains at her knees), but no one else should see her like this.
"Come on, sweetheart," he said, wrapping his jacket around her to hide the worst of the damage, and wincing when he saw the tiny tears all over the back of her gown. Damn. He was probably going to have to explain this to his mother later, when she asked why he and Cynthia left early, and if she heard about the state of Cynthia's gown, she'd never believe whatever he came up with. Maybe he could bribe the maids to burn the thing and never mention it to his mother.
Sadly, that was doubtful.
Well, it's not like he wasn't going to marry the chit.
A small smile curving his face, Wesley led Cynthia out of the gardens and around the building on the outside, keeping to the shadows. Humming softly to herself, she leaned into him, her fingers holding the edges of the jacket closed at her chest, trusting him to lead her to the carriage. A strange sense of clairvoyance whispered up Wesley's spine, as he suddenly realized that this would be his life. The life that he was meant to lead, with this brazen, sensual woman at his side. He could see them, walking just like this, in old age. Perhaps even after some fun ravishing each other in the garden.
At least, he was certainly determined to be a randy old goat, and somehow he was quite sure that Cynthia wouldn't object in the least bit.
Grinning now, he held her even more firmly to his side. He couldn't wait to be married.
******
"Does anyone know where Wesley and Cynthia have gone?" Eleanor asked, looking around. She was utterly stunning in an ice blue gown that set off her eyes and her golden hair.
Grace fluttered her fan in front of her face to hide her smile. "I believe I saw them step outside a few minutes ago," she murmured quietly. "Probably to explore the gardens."
Beside both of them, Edwin snorted and Eleanor looked up at him and giggled. "Oh dear."
"We could go explore the gardens," he said, giving his wife a lustful look, his eyes trailing over her cleavage. Grace couldn't help it, she tensed immediately. She didn't want to ruin Eleanor and Edwin's night, but at the moment, the presence of her friend was all that was keeping her sane.
Because, unfortunately, she wasn't having a nice coze in the corner with Nell and her husband. No, there was a fourth standing with them. Silent. Watchful. Standing far too close to her shoulder. And Grace desperately did not want to be left alone with him. She knew that Eleanor sensed that immediately, and she felt both guilt and relief when Nell shook her head at Edwin and tapped his chest reprovingly with her fan.
"Absolutely not, you reprobate," Eleanor said chidingly.
"But sweetheart, that's what you like about me," Edwin said, his eyes darkening even further as he grabbed Eleanor's hand and held it to his chest. The look that Eleanor gave back to him said that she'd love to go exploring the gardens with him, but she still shook her head. Grace watched them rather wistfully, although she was sure that her envy was hidden behind a suitably blank expression.
"We could go explore the gardens." Alex's deep voice rumbled in her hair, sending shivers dancing up and down Grace's spine. By the time she looked over her shoulder at him to pierce him with an icy glare, she had her reactions back under control.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. The bastard just smiled at her, his eyes glowing as they traveled down from her face and straight into her cleavage.
Grace had dressed to impress tonight. She'd played up her creamy skin and dark hair with a rich, ruby dress, trimmed with navy blue lace, to go with the sapphire and rubies around her neck and in her hair. The sapphires were too dark to match her eyes, but she knew that she looked stunning, nonetheless. Alex hadn't been the only one looking her over appreciatively this evening.
Not that any of the men who had come forward had lingered. Without saying a word, Alex's looming presence had somehow gotten across the message that Grace was off limits. She wasn't entirely sure how he did it, but every single man who approached walked away within a few minutes after exchanging no more than a few pleasantries.
Turning away from him, she tapped her foot impatiently, only to realize that she was tapping in time to the music. Again.
"Dance with me, Grace."
She sighed. All night Alex had been asking and she'd been refusing. This time, it sounded more like an order than a request. Maybe if she danced with him, he'd leave her alone.
"Fine." It wasn't the most gracious answer, as she held out her hand, but Alex bowed over her fingers anyway, entirely courteous, before leading her out onto the floor.
Of course it was a waltz. He held her far too tightly, his hand splayed over her back as he began to rotate, inserting them between the other couples, masterfully maneuvering her around the floor. Alex had always been a wonderful dancer. It felt like her skin was becoming tight, having him touch her and hold her this closely.
Other than after he'd spanked her, or when she accidentally moved towards him in her sleep, Alex had barely touched her at all. Now she was letting him. Had agreed to it. Had she been mad?
She kept her face tilted away from him, unsure if she'd be able to hide the confusion and distress that she felt over her pleasure at his nearness.
"You look ravishing tonight," he said, his voice low so that others passing by them wouldn't be able to hear them over the music. "Then again, you always look stunning, but I do like this dress in particular. Did you wear it because you remembered how much I like you in red?"
Pursing her lips, she shook her head, but in her heart she suddenly wondered. Had she dressed to taunt him or to please him?
"You think rather highly of yourself, don't you?" she asked tartly.
"Why shouldn't I, when I have the most beautiful woman in the room in my arms?"
Her heart skipped a beat, and she wished he didn't sound so sincere. It was hard to maintain her anger when Alex was being charming. Complimentary. Acting as though he cared. It brought up the most awful feelings of wistful hope inside of her, made her think about Eleanor's theory that perhaps he truly did value Grace for herself and he just hadn't known it till she was gone. But then Grace had to remind herself that it had apparently taken him years to figure it out, and he was probably motivated by something other than emotion.
After all, he'd proven himself to be just like her father, valuing business and money over emotions and caring.
But it was hard to remember that in moments like this, when he was holding her so closely and looking at her like she was the only woman in the world. Heat high in her cheeks, she kept her face turned away, not knowing how to respond to him.
Alex took her silence as a positive sign. If she were stone, holding firm against him, then he would be water, slowly wearing down her resistance. He was certain he was wearing her down. Just like tonight, when he'd waited patiently by her side, hoping that eventually she'd relent and dance with him. Now she was. That had been his first major victory of the evening.
Smaller victories included making her shiver and blush, which she was doing right now. She couldn't completely contain her physical responses to him, and he was more than willing to play on those.
The more time he spent with her, the easier it was to remember his former, more charming, happier self. Even if she was angry with him all the time, at least she was there. And she was softening. The fact that he held her in her arms and made her blush was proof of that. She didn't protest about sleeping in the same bed anymore either.
When the dance was done, Alex took her back to the side of the ballroom. Edwin and Eleanor had vacated the space, but Hugh and Irene had taken their place.
"Edwin took Nell home, she wasn't feeling too well," Hugh said. He didn't appear concerned, however, so Alex knew it wasn't anything dire. Smi
ling down at Grace, Hugh patted Irene's hand and then released her to hold his hand out to Grace. "Lady Brooke, would you like to dance?"
"Yes, please," she said, with every evidence of relief, shooting Alex a triumphant look before turning away to take Hugh's hand.
Alex hid his smile. Even that was a victory, because she'd cared enough to make a point to him. It didn't matter what the point was. He turned to Irene. "Well, pet, would you like to dance?"
"Absolutely," Irene said, smiling up at him enthusiastically. They hadn't quite managed to return to their old camaraderie yet, Alex still felt a bit strange about touching her after that scene in the garden, but they were on their way. Fortunately, the current song was a quadrille, which didn't require the same kind of intimacy that a waltz did.
While he was dancing with Irene, he couldn't help but watch Grace. She was aptly named, her every movement was long and elegant, like a siren’s call to his senses.
Unfortunately, Hugh's dance with her seemed to be some kind of signal to the other men in attendance. No sooner had the dance ended and they'd returned to the sidelines, than a young lord stepped up to ask Grace to dance. Of course, at events such as this, that was completely normal. Alex's behavior tonight, keeping the men from even asking her for a dance, had been decidedly unusual amongst the ton. In London, it would have been more than frowned upon, he probably would have found himself overrun by outraged matrons.
After all, most of the time, husbands didn't hover over their wives at balls, so if the women wanted to dance, it wasn't going to be with their spouse.
Although, Alex had only meant to keep Grace off the dance floor until she acquiesced to dance with him, it was still hard to see her take the floor, laughing and smiling with another man. With an internal sigh, he turned and asked one of the young matrons at the edge of the floor to join him. If Grace was going to dance, he was going to dance.
He'd learned his lesson about hurting his own cause though. The moment the dance ended, he returned the flirtatious matron to her place and took his own beside Grace. The musicians were resting for the moment, and the young buck she'd been dancing with had taken it upon himself to retain her hand as they chatted. Alex had absolutely no compunction about pushing his way between them and taking Grace's hand back for his own.
"Lord Brooke," the younger man said, immediately letting Grace go. He might be a rake-in-training, but he knew when he was outclassed.
Alex eyed him without malice. "My apologies, I don't believe we've been introduced."
"Marbury," he said, with a grin.
"Ah, the name I've heard," Alex said, raising his eyebrow. Marbury was a bit more than a rake-in-training, but he was also known for not poaching protected preserves. As long as Alex made it clear he wasn't going to stand for any dalliances with his wife, he would have nothing to fear from Marbury. "Your grays are superb."
Other than his exploits in the bedroom, Marbury was also known for being a notable whip. Alex had seen his team, a matching set of feisty grays, on the street, although he'd never gotten a good look at the man driving them.
"Matchless," Marbury said with an almost boyish grin. "But they should be considering the cost."
Beside them, Grace made an indelicate snorting sound. "Men and their horses."
"Ladies and their ribbons," Alex said teasingly back to her, his heart lightening. It was an old retort, teasing words exchanged more than once back when he'd started courting her. Grace had asked him to go shopping with her and he'd made some kind of pompous remark about ladies always needing new ribbons; she'd tossed her head and haughtily informed him that she was going to New Market to choose a new horse, but if he wanted ribbons she would send him out with her mother so he would at least be educated in choosing the best.
That was the day Alex had decided he was going to marry her.
A gentleman Grace had met earlier that evening, Mr. Lowell, interrupted just then, asking Grace to dance. Somewhat in a daze, she accepted, looking over her shoulder at Alex as Mr. Lowell led her away. Alex's eyes were trained on her, watching her walk away.
She hadn't expected him to remember that old repartee. It had fallen from her lips before she'd thought about it, sparked by the conversation, and she'd thought it a mistake even before she'd finished saying the words. But then Alex had responded. He'd remembered.
That had surprised her even more than his appearance by her side at the end of the dance. She'd thoroughly expected him to remain with the blonde beauty he'd ended up dancing with. After all, he'd been hanging on Grace all night and he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted. When she'd first seen him take to the floor, her heart had dropped somewhere around the vicinity of her feet. She thought that by accepting Marbury's invitation, that her action had spurred Alex to seek out another companion.
Even though she'd tried to tell herself she was glad that he'd gotten the message, it had still hurt.
Then he'd reappeared at her side, the blonde nowhere in sight, as aggressively possessive as he had been earlier in the evening. Even though she tried to remain aloof, how could such attention not turn her head, just a little? Then, to know that he'd remembered such a simple little thing from before... a tiny joke between them that she'd have bet he would have forgotten. Such little interactions had meant something to her, but what could they have meant to him?
Yet he'd remembered.
For the rest of the night, Grace was utterly taken aback. Alex danced with woman after woman, just as she did with the men who came to ask her, but he always returned to her side after each set. Without the lady in question on his arm. And he never danced with a single one twice.
Except for Grace. He claimed every single waltz with her, apparently content to dance with her held close, even though they didn't exchange a word between them. She truly didn't know what to say.
Chapter 6
"But what do I do?" Grace whispered into Eleanor's ear.
They were doing their best not to catch the Countess' eye while she went into raptures, showing them the ballroom as it was being decorated for the wedding. The event was two days away and Cynthia looked like she was reaching the end of her patience, but Grace was too wrapped up in her own issues to help with that. Besides, the Countess had her arm firmly wrapped around Cynthia's. It would be like trying to detach a leech. A well-meaning, motherly, and completely wedding-crazed leech.
"You could always try giving him another chance, he might surprise you," Eleanor whispered back, glancing over to make sure that they weren't being watched. They were, but only by Cynthia, who was gazing at them beseechingly as the Countess directed one of the footmen to raise the valances another foot. They both looked back at her with sympathy and shook their heads.
She stuck out her tongue at them and Eleanor giggled. Even Grace smiled, although she was currently feeling far too rattled to truly feel any humor. Eleanor kept pushing her to give her marriage another chance, to take Alex at face value - again. The worst part was, Grace could feel herself weakening and wanting to do exactly that.
But if Eleanor was wrong, and Alex was only using her again, Grace didn't know if her heart could take it.
Irene looked over at them curiously. She'd been following the Countess through the ballroom much closer than Grace or Eleanor had. Probably conditioned to follow closely by that harpy mother of hers, poor thing. Lately Grace had been tempted to talk to Irene, wondering if she might have any insights into Alex's behavior. After all, she had known him the longest. But, even though there was some obvious cooling of untoward affection between them, she was sure that Irene's loyalty remained to Alex. She didn't know if she could trust Irene to keep her confidence.
The doors on the far side of the room opened, and the Earl peered in, looking around. His mother saw him immediately and started half-dragging Cynthia across the room, stopping mid-tirade as she barreled towards her son, her voice rising as she neared him.
"Wesley! There you are! What do you have to say for yourself, sirrah? I cannot belie
ve your behavior last night!"
"Oh dear," Eleanor murmured under her breath, holding her hand over her mouth to muffle her giggle as Wesley's friends abandoned ship and left him to the tender mercies of the Countess.
Apparently, Wesley had taken Cynthia out to the gardens at the dance last night and had rendered her into such a state of disarray that they'd had to make a hasty trip home. The Countess was infuriated, although she hadn't shown it before, as she put the blame solely on her son's broad shoulders. Cynthia appeared fascinated by the diatribe, while everyone else displayed varying degrees of amusement. Grace coughed to cover her own laughter, and she couldn't help catching Alex's gaze. For one delightful, pure moment, they looked at each other, laughter filling their eyes. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful when he smiled.
Then the moment was over, and Grace pulled her gaze away. She couldn't drop her guard too much. Not yet.
If only she could find a way to test him, to discover what his motivations were. Perhaps she should search the study of their current residence, see if he had any of his business papers. They might hold a clue. Or his correspondence. Something to tell her why he might need a wife by his side, or her as his wife in particular.
In the meantime... perhaps there were other ways of ascertaining just how serious he was. Her scandalous reputation didn't appear to currently bother him, but what if she was seen as being even more so? After all, he was intent on reining her in, and everyone now knew it, and if she refused to let him, perhaps he'd find her too embarrassing to hold on to. Especially if his reasons had to do with business. She had thought she'd already broken the line of what a man would be willing to tolerate before divorce, but perhaps she hadn't gone quite far enough.
And, if by some miracle, he held on to her no matter what she did... then perhaps she would have her answer.
******
His wife was drunk.
At a dinner party.
Unfortunately, one that included more than just their close friends. The Countess had invited quite a few guests into her home, to celebrate Wesley and Cynthia's upcoming nuptials. Fortunately, Grace was far enough down the table from their hostess that the Countess hadn't noticed and so wasn't distressed, especially since she was more focused on ensuring her son and his fiancé behaved, but quite a few people at Grace's end of the table were already shooting her glances and whispering behind their hands.