by Golden Angel
Her voice was a little too loud, her laughter a little too brazen, and she was being remarkably indiscreet about, well, everything. Most of the high-flyers were seated with the Countess, but he could see several of them eyeing Grace from down the length of the table. She was creating more talk, and he was too far away to be able to do anything about it. Interrupting dinner would only draw more attention to her behavior and fuel speculation. He gritted his teeth, trying to decide what to do. Grace’s manners had always been impeccable, especially after they’d become estranged, because she realized what a fine line she walked on in Society. If she had done anything more extraordinary than indulge in her private life, the high sticklers would have had all the excuse they needed to drive her from Society completely. Now that Alex was back in her life, trying to reconcile, did she think she no longer needed to follow the other social conventions? Or was this for his benefit alone?
"I'm sorry, Lady Brooke, I didn't catch that," a pretty, dark-haired lady said, politely, as Grace muttered something under her breath. Mrs. Locklear, if Alex remembered her introduction correctly, a widow who had been escorted there by her friend Lord Hereford. Although Alex was quite sure that they were probably more than friends.
"Well, Mrs. Locklear," Grace said, her rising tones contemptuously superior, "if you had been listening instead of mentally undressing everyone else's husbands, you wouldn't need to ask."
Both Mrs. Locklear and Lord Hereford went beet red, for very different reasons. Alex coughed, nearly choking on the piece of chicken he practically swallowed whole. The actual remark didn't surprise him, Grace had always said outrageous things, but she had always said them sotto voce to a trusted companion. Not announced it so that everyone could hear. Well, not everyone, but enough people to bring conversation around their part of the table to a grinding halt.
On one hand, all the women around them looked more than a little gratified to have Mrs. Locklear called out. On the other hand, it still reflected badly upon Grace and upon himself that she had spoken so rudely to anyone, no matter how well it was deserved. Propriety demanded that the social faults of others not be publicly remarked upon, although of course many would gossip about it privately. Fortunately, Mrs. Locklear didn't respond in kind; instead she seemed to shrink in on herself, barely looking at any of the men, as Grace turned to answer a question that Edwin asked her. He shot Alex a look of apology that was unnecessary; Alex didn't think Edwin would have any real control over Grace, even though he was sitting next to her, but he was grateful to his friend for distracting her.
Damn the social conventions that dictated a man and wife should sit apart anyway. Alex could have kept more control over Grace’s drinking if he’d been sitting closer. Granted, he hadn’t noticed her drinking to excess, but he had been immersed in conversation with his dinner companions until her behavior had distracted him.
******
When the women left the table to the men, dispersing to the drawing room, Eleanor swiftly caught up to Grace. She’d been watching her friend carefully all evening and she could tell that Grace was up to something. Something that was probably going to earn her nothing but a hot bottom at the end of the evening, if the expression on Lord Brooke’s face was any indicator.
Eleanor was fairly certain that his desire to reconcile with Grace was sincere. Ever since the couple had arrived in Bath, he’d already appeared more open and approachable. She’d even seen him smile several times. Usually when Grace couldn’t see him do so. Both of them appeared to be playing their hands very close to their chests, but there was definitely something between them.
“What are you doing?” Eleanor whispered into Grace’s ear, snagging her friend’s elbow and pulling her close.
After all, she didn’t want to draw any more attention to Grace. The high sticklers had already been looking at her askance by dessert, and even the Countess had noticed there was something going on with her, although she’d been too far down the table to know what. Thankfully.
Grace sniffed, turning her nose up into the air, stumbling over her feet a bit as she did so. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not drunk, so stop acting,” Eleanor whispered back. Grace looked at her in surprise, and with a bit of guilt, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. “You’re going to end up causing a scene.”
“Yes, and then I’ll be able to see how Alex reacts.”
Eleanor groaned. She should have known. Sometimes she and Grace were so alike. Grace wanted to provoke a reaction from Alex to try and discern his true feelings, just as Eleanor wanted to do with Edwin. However, she knew from trial and error that forcing such a declaration was near to impossible. No matter what Edwin did in response to Eleanor’s provocation, she could always find multiple motivations to assign to his actions. It never helped clarify what his feelings might be towards her.
“It’s not going to work,” Eleanor told her. “You’re probably just going to end up not being able to sit down tomorrow.”
“If he spanks me, instead of giving up on this idiotic notion to reconcile, then that will say a great deal, won’t it?”
It would, but it wouldn’t be enough. Something else Eleanor knew, because her own doubts still gnawed at her. She did find it reassuring that Edwin would rather spank or birch her bottom then send her out of his sight, but then again, he needed an heir. So did Alex. Although, it truly would be easier for him to divorce Grace than to put forth an effort to keep her in line. No one would blame him. If Edwin wanted to divorce, or even separate, it would be a huge scandal. Not to mention it would wreck his friendship with Hugh. Whereas, most of Society would probably applaud such a step by Lord Brooke. Perhaps Grace was right and she would find it more indicative than Edwin’s responses were for Eleanor.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured, and then there wasn’t a chance to say anything more, because the Countess came sweeping up to them as they entered the drawing room.
It was obvious the older woman had realized something was going on with Grace and was determined that nothing happened to ruin the dinner. Not that Grace would ever take her antics that far, especially not when Alex wasn’t around to be witness to it. Eleanor watched, amused, as the Countess seated Grace next to her, surrounded by some of the highest sticklers in Society, ones who would have probably given her the cut direct if they’d happened upon her in London… and Grace proceeded to charm them all.
Some of them quite unwillingly. The Duchess of Kent looked like she’d swallowed an egg about two seconds after she laughed at one of Grace’s quips, realizing who she was laughing with. None of them would dare cut her with the Countess right there, obviously sponsoring her, and Alex having escorted her, but they clearly weren't quite sure how to treat her either. Eleanor had to swallow her own laughter as she made her way over to Cynthia and Irene, who were sitting on one of the window seats and chatting.
Irene was describing Hugh's estates and their honeymoon there. Smiling, Eleanor sat down with them, enjoying hearing about her old home from a new perspective.
"I don't know that I'll make a very good lady of the house," Cynthia said ruefully, when Irene was done. "The Countess has been doing her best to train me, but I can't imagine why anyone would listen to me. Manfred certainly doesn't."
Eleanor laughed at the disgruntled look on Cynthia's face. Apparently she'd at least attempted to give the Countess' butler an order and it hadn't gone very well. "He didn't listen to Wesley either, before he became the Earl, if that makes you feel any better," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Besides, he'll likely stay with the Countess. I can't imagine her being agreeable to letting him go."
Cynthia immediately perked up. "So we'll have a different butler?"
"Yes, I imagine he's probably at either Spencer House in London or out on the estates right now," Eleanor said, giving Cynthia a supportive smile. It couldn't be easy, knowing that she was about to be mistress of a whole horde of servants that she hadn't even m
et yet. At least Eleanor had known most of Edwin's before they were married, and Irene had met quite a few of Hugh's. Not that any of them were as stuffy as Manfred anyway, she knew that Irene had been welcomed with open arms at Stonehaven and Westingdon.
"Oh good. I can deal with someone who doesn't know me, I think," Cynthia said, obviously gaining in confidence already. "Manfred knows me a little too well by now." Her wince made both Irene and Eleanor laugh.
"You could always try behaving," Irene said, although her green eyes were sparkling with amusement.
The saucy smile she got in return left no doubt of Cynthia's opinion on that. "You could always try having some fun," she teased.
"I have plenty of fun," Irene retorted, with affection. "And I can sit down the next day when I do."
All three women dissolved into giggles.
Unfortunately Eleanor wasn't able to enjoy her mirth for very long, as her belly twinged. She'd started to become nauseous at all sorts of odd hours through the day, especially in the mornings. Swallowing hard, she prayed she wasn't about to humiliate herself by vomiting in the middle of the Countess of Spencer's drawing room.
"Eleanor? Are you all right?" Irene was looking at her with concern, Cynthia turning to see what was wrong as Irene reached out her hand.
"Yes... yes," Eleanor said faintly, pressing her hand against her stomach. "I'm fine, I just need a moment." She glanced over at the gaggle of women around the Countess, hoping that none of them had noticed her incapacity. To her relief, they were still involved in their conversation. If they knew she was increasing, they would be lenient about any feminine issues she had, of course, but since she hadn't told Edwin yet, she certainly didn't want that gossip making the rounds.
Although she was going to have to tell him soon. Her increasing nausea and bouts of fatigue were becoming harder and harder to hide.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened and the men began to trickle into the room. Alex and Edwin were among the first, and his dark gaze slashed around the women, searching for her. The moment he saw her, he frowned, and something inside of her shriveled. She realized, after a moment, that she didn't like feeling as though he was upset with her. Unless, of course, she meant him to be.
Doing it unintentionally made her feel small and sad, her mind grasping for what she might have done wrong and how she could make it right.
Her insides warmed as he immediately strode towards her, while Alex headed straight for his own wife, and she realized that Edwin was frowning in concern. Not upset. Some of her tension dissipated.
"What's wrong, Nell?" he asked, in a quiet voice, as soon as he reached her.
Part of her wanted to blurt out exactly what was wrong, but this was not the time or the place. "Nothing, really," she said, mustering up a smile as his frown deepened. "Just a megrim."
"She got very pale all of the sudden and clutched at her stomach," Cynthia said helpfully. Eleanor shot the woman a glare, but Cynthia wasn't looking at her at all; her gaze had immediately moved to Wesley as he came into the room.
His mouth drawn in a hard line, Edwin held out his hand. Not wanting to refuse him and make more of a fuss, Eleanor took it and allowed him to help her up. She was sure that no one else realized that the smile on his face was false, as he made their excuses to the Countess for an early departure. Perhaps Hugh might have noticed, but he was too busy fetching tea for Irene as the trolley came into the room while Edwin and Eleanor made their goodbyes.
But she felt entirely too nauseous and, now that she was standing, a bit dizzy to worry over it. Edwin was like a pillar of strength beside her, one that she could lean on both physically and mentally, trusting him to say and do the right things so that they could leave. She let him maneuver them out the doors and into the coach, where he sat her beside him and folded her into his arms.
Happily snuggling into his chest, Eleanor didn't see the continued worry that creased his brow, or the anxiety in his eyes as his finger stroked over her shoulder.
******
It took Alex less than two minutes, after he inserted himself into the circle of women around the Countess, to realize that his wife wasn't drunk after all. She'd been bamming him. And he'd been taken in completely. Which meant that her behavior over dinner had been deliberate. No wonder she'd been able to skate the line so well, making a minor scene without causing an actual scandal.
He grated his teeth as he sat and listened to her chatting with some of the most influential movers and shakers within the ton. None of whom knew quite what to make of her at this moment. They'd all become used to thinking of her as a walking scandal, but now her husband was back by her side and dancing attendance on her. On top of that, the Countess was one of the most influential women when it came to Society. She was considered a force to be reckoned with, and she was showing her obvious support of Grace.
Which he appreciated, since she was doing so at his request. She'd raised her finely arched eyebrows when he'd made the request, but had agreed readily enough.
When the teacart came in, his wife began testing his patience again.
He'd gotten up to fetch her a cup, joining the other gentlemen as they handed out the cups to the ladies, and by the time he'd turned around, she had separated herself from the Countess' circle and was flirtatiously batting her eyes at Lord Northrup as she accepted a cup of tea from him. Stony-faced, Alex took the cup that he'd procured to the Countess instead, bowing over her hand, before grimly stalking to his wife.
The amusement in the Countess' eyes as she'd accepted the tea from him had not improved his mood.
"Northrup," he said, rather shortly, as he settled next to Grace. He could practically feel the tension in her begin to tighten, the moment he placed himself beside her.
Reaching out, he placed his hand on the small of her back, a possessive movement that didn't go unnoticed by Northrup. The other man's dark eyes showed confusion that quickly cleared, as he realized that no matter how the lady might have been acting towards him, the lord was not going to be amenable.
"Brooke," he responded mildly. "Your lovely wife and I were just discussing the new Sheridan play."
"Ah yes," Alex said, putting a smile on his face as he shifted closer to Grace, his body language implying an intimacy between them that didn't actually exist. He could feel her tension ratcheting up even higher, although she didn't move away. It was like she was waiting for something... maybe just to see what he was going to do. "My Grace does love Sheridan's works. I prefer Shakespeare, myself."
Northrup chuckled, smoothing down his black mustache in a kind of nervous gesture, although he seemed to be relaxing now. "Who doesn't? The Bard is always popular."
"I think something new is preferable to something old," Grace said, her voice filled with gaiety, and yet her tone had an edge as well. "We've all read and seen the Bard's plays a hundred times over. I like to see new characters and plots on the stage, it's so much more engaging." As she spoke, Alex slid his fingers along her back so that the tips could subtly grip her waist, a calm satisfaction filling him as he felt her stiffen despite her outward composure.
He knew that she was trying to prod him, but strangely he felt more placid every passing minute.
"Yet there is always much to be appreciated about the old," he countered, looking down at her. Her bright blue eyes lifted to his, guarded but searching. Emotion seemed to churn underneath the smooth social mask, the blankness of which was wearing thin. "Not just the comfort of the familiar, but a depth of emotion that can only be built over time. New is not always better."
They were both speaking of more than just theater now, and something flickered across her face before she turned away from him, her lips curving into a smile as she tilted her head at Lord Northrup. Like so many men, he smiled automatically in response. When Grace was in a mood to be charming, she was like bright sunshine, nearly impossible to ignore and even more impossible to be unaffected by.
He was still going to spank her ass when
they got home, charm or not. While her antics, surprisingly, weren't riling his temper at the moment, he certainly wasn't going to let her get away without any consequences.
"As you can see, Lord Brooke and I can never agree on anything," Grace said, with an airy little laugh, even as Alex tightened his fingers warningly, pressing them into her side. She kept her gaze on Lord Northrup, and something about her demeanor made her words an open invitation. "We appreciate very different diversions."
"Which is a good example of why opposites attract," Alex said, his temper starting to stir again. Pretending to glance at the clock on the far wall, he pulled Grace into him, his anger soothed as she was pressed against his side and he could feel her own ire leap up again. For some reason, setting her off balance helped him to keep an even keel. "Excuse us, Northrup, we really should be going." He gave Grace a look full of so much sexual heat that she froze, staring up at him like a mouse that had just noticed it was being stalked by a cat. "I'm sure you understand."
"Oh ah... hmm, yes," Northrup coughed, covering his stutter as he looked back and forth between them. "Good evening, then."
The man actually blushed as he turned away. Ninny. Alex nearly snorted. If Grace truly wanted to test his possessiveness, she needed much more stalwart quarry than someone like Northrup.
Keeping a hold of his wayward wife, Alex hurried them through their goodbyes. The Countess wished them a good night with a knowing little glint in her eye that made Grace look distinctly uncomfortable. Obviously the woman thought they'd reconciled fully, and that Alex was eager to go home and claim his marital rights.
If he thought Grace would be willing, he absolutely would be, but at the moment the only thing he was going to be doing this evening was turning his wife's bottom a bright red. Of course, he'd already found that was enjoyable in its own way.